One Hundred Reasons

by Kelly Collins

  Sage didn’t want Katie to start a flood of tears again, but she did want to offer her condolences. “I don’t need anything. I only wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Katie waved away her comment. “Just having a moment. I’m okay, really.”

  “It’s such an enormous loss.”

  Katie sat up taller—taller than Sage could ever sit, being just five-foot-two. “Did you know her?”

  “Yes. I got to know her pretty well.” Did she tell Katie that Bea was sweeter than the coffee she drank? That she watched game shows for hours and ate cheese puffs by the bagful? That she smelled like maple syrup and cinnamon? Sage was pretty sure Katie would know those things. Instead, she told of their association. “I was one of her nurses.”

  “Oh.” Sadness clouded Katie’s voice. “Did she suffer?”

  Suffering was such a broad term. There were many ways a person could suffer, but not once did Bea succumb to pain, anguish, or fear. “No,” Sage said. “She was one tough lady.” She was the light of every shift Sage pulled. “Bea spent hours talking about Aspen Cove.” Sage looked out the window at the ghost of a town. Never once did Bea mention the whitewashed windows or closed-down shops. This town had died long before Bea. “She shared a lot. And yet, I’m not sure she told me much of anything. All I know is this town and its people were her life.”

  Katie sighed as if Sage had finished reciting a love story. “I’m glad she had a good life.”

  “What about you? How does Bea fit into yours?”

  Katie’s expression turned flat. “I have no idea. I never met her.”

  Chapter Six

  For a split second, Sage’s breath halted. “What do you mean, you’ve never met her?” Had she assumed wrong? It was certainly possible the bakery belonged to another person whose name started with a B. It seemed highly unlikely in a town so small. “I’m talking about Bea Bennett. I assumed this bakery belonged to her.”

  “It did.” Katie reached for her purse and pulled out a pink envelope and a packet of stapled pages. “I got this in the mail a few days ago.”

  “She left you her bakery?” It was a statement with a hint of a question. What was their connection? The scientist in Sage knew there was a logical answer, but then again, Bea had left Sage the bed and breakfast, and she couldn’t find the reasoning for that either.

  “Yes, but why?” Katie smoothed the papers out on the table.

  Sage reached into her own bag and pulled out a matching envelope. “I don’t know, but she left me her property.” She opened the papers and pointed to the top where it said B’s Bed and Breakfast. “I imagine she saw something she liked in us.”

  “That’s great for you, you met her. I’ve never been to Colorado. In fact, I’ve never left the state of Texas until this letter arrived.”

  Sage was no detective, but at least she’d pegged the southern accent; now it was confirmed to be Texan, but there was a new mystery surrounding the gifts. Would there be more people showing up in Aspen Cove with pink stationery tucked inside their bags?

  “Are you sure you never met her?”

  “Positive. Unless she lived in Dallas at one time or another.”

  “No, I know for a fact her family homesteaded here, and this town had been a part of Bea’s life since she was born.” Sage reached for the packet of papers in front of Katie. “Do you mind if I look at this?”

  Katie slid the pages over to Sage.

  She rustled through them and found what she expected. One Hundred Reasons. She anticipated the letter would read the same as her own, starting with, 1. You need to live a little and ending with 100. Aspen Cove needs you, but Katie’s was different. She had her own set of reasons Bea felt she belonged in the tiny town.

  Her page started with, 1. You have a good heart. 2. You are generous with your time and talents and ended with 100. Aspen Cove will care for you.

  “Not sure what’s crazier.” Katie looked at the pages. “That I got this letter, or that I packed up my stuff and left Dallas?”

  “I know what you mean. Although my situation is different, it’s eerily similar.”

  She tossed Sage a questioning look. “How did you end up here?”

  Sage began her story at the same time as Katie’s hobo bag rang. She pulled her phone from the pouch on the side of her purse and rolled her eyes. She lifted a finger. “Hold that thought. I’m sorry, but I have to take this.” She rose from the chair and walked behind the bakery counter.

  “Hey, Mama.” Seconds of silence followed. “I’m okay. I need this.” Her voice rode between pleading and expiration.

  Though several feet away, Sage could hear clearly an argument that had too many rounds and no solution. There was no murmur of patrons to drown out the call. No hum of an oven. No whir of a mixer. The bakery was like the rest of the town—silenced. Sage went to the window to avoid eavesdropping.

  Across the street, a very pregnant woman walked into the Corner Store with six kids in tow. In Denver, everyone working in the labor and delivery ward would have called her a breeder, but here, in this small town, Sage imagined the woman was bored. She laughed at that ludicrous thought. With six kids and one on the way, she would never be bored. She was a mother, and from the sound of Katie’s, “I’m twenty-eight years old, and for once I will live by my rules,” she expected that Katie’s mom wasn’t bored, but rather concerned.

  She remembered her last fight with her mother. Did they really argue over whether Sage should go to the dance? Her mom didn’t hold her back but pushed her forward to take risks and live a little. It sounded reminiscent of Bea’s reasons for giving her the property.

  “I’m not telling you where I’m at.” Katie’s voice rose. “I’ll call you soon.” She ended the call with an exaggerated exhale, and when it rang again, she silenced the caller by powering down the phone.

  “I’m sorry about that.” Katie flopped so heavily into the chair, the red plastic cushion wheezed as the air beneath her escaped.

  “Moms can be tough.”

  Katie rolled her eyes. “Mine treats me like I’m seven. What about yours? Does your mom respect boundaries?”

  “My mom was protective, but she made us push boundaries. My sister Lydia and I didn’t get away with much, but we could do a lot, so there wasn’t much need to break out of parental confines.” Sage took in a big breath. She was over the pain of losing her mother, but she would never stop missing her. “I lost my parents when I was a teenager.”

  “Oh. My. God, I’m so sorry.” What little pink was left in Katie’s cheeks blanched to white. “That was so insensitive of me.”

  “Not at all. You didn’t know, and honestly, it’s nice to hear that I’m not the only person who was driven crazy by their mother’s meddling. Of course, I was fifteen, so she had a right and responsibility to meddle when she did.”

  Katie laid her cool hand on top of Sage’s in what could only be considered a loving gesture. Sage knew immediately that Bea was right. Katie had a good heart.

  “My mother is why they coined the term helicopter parent. I can’t remember a time when she didn’t hover over me. It only got worse when . . .” Katie paused. “I shouldn’t complain. She just wants what she thinks is best for me.”

  “Yes, but at twenty-eight, I’d say you get to choose.”

  Katie lifted her hand in a dismissive wave. “Enough about me, what about you?”

  Sage told her the whole story. She started from the day Bea entered her ward asking for stationery and ended it with the night she found out Bea had died.

  “I wish I could have met her. She sounds amazing.” Katie glanced around the bakery. “The last thing I want to do is abandon her gift, but honestly, I used what money I had on hand to get here thinking I’d just take over the place. I thought there would be employees and supplies.” Katie sighed heavily, and her shoulders rounded. “Look at this place. Maybe my mama is right. Maybe I am completely naïve.”

  What Katie undoubtedly saw was the peeling wallp
aper. The chipped floor tiles. The oven without a handle. The yellowing cross-stitch pictures that hung askew around the room. Half the chairs were torn, with golden-colored foam seeping through the cracks in the red vinyl. A quarter of the tables were turned black where years of use had worn off the white paint.

  What she didn’t see was the charm, the warmth, and the love that had lived and passed through this little sugary delight.

  “I can help.” The words were out of Sage’s mouth before she tested the logic in them. Offering to help meant she’d have to stick around for more than a day. After seeing the town, she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay the night. But the words were out, and she believed words had value. “Let me get settled at the bed and breakfast tonight. We’ll figure out a schedule tomorrow. All this place needs is a little love, and maybe some cleaning. Bea said you have a good heart, so you have the love part covered. I’ll provide the elbow grease.”

  Katie flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around Sage. “You may be my favorite person in town.” She pulled back and gave Sage a blue ribbon, tiara-winning grin.

  Sage laughed. “By the look of things, I may be the only person in town.” Except, of course, the mother with the kids. So there were nine confirmed residents, and by her size, almost ten.

  “Do you really think I can make a go of it? I don’t even know how to bake.”

  “I’m going to give you some Sage advice. It doesn’t mean the advice is good. It’s only Sage because it’s coming from me.” She shrugged her shoulders in a take-it-or-leave-it fashion.

  “I’m open to any suggestions at this point.”

  “Take it one minute and one problem at a time. Sometimes even a minute can seem overwhelming, and that’s when you take life a second at a time.” She would do well to follow her own counsel.

  “Overwhelmed seems tame for what I feel inside.”

  “Let’s start small. Cleaning is the easy part, and learning to bake isn’t rocket science. Don’t get me wrong, it is science, especially when you add high altitude to the mix, but there are a thousand chefs who have simplified the process. I’m sure there are a ton of recipes online. Have you looked around the bakery? Maybe Bea left recipes behind.”

  Katie nodded her head. “She did.” Her blonde waves bounced over her shoulders. She dug back into her purse and pulled out several recipe cards like she was yanking a rabbit out of a hat. There was a flourish of excitement as she waved them through the air. “Muffins. She left muffin recipes.”

  “Perfect. Then you start with muffins.”

  Katie gazed out the window. “Once I bake ’em, who do I sell them to?”

  “That’s a problem for another day.” Sage rose from her chair and looked to where she’d parked her SUV. Otis sat up in the front seat with his head bobbing back and forth like he was taking in the scenery. “Tomorrow is Bea’s funeral. I imagine it will be a good opportunity to meet people. Will you be going?”

  “Yes, I’d like to hear more about Bea from the people who knew her best.”

  Sage bent over to give her new friend a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She walked out of the bakery filled with a purpose that was sure to keep her in town a few days. She caught movement to her left and turned.

  Coming at her like a car without brakes was the most gorgeous man she’d seen in her lifetime. Despite his size, he moved with the speed and grace of a hawk. Everything about him screamed to her. As he neared, her breath hitched. He might have been gorgeous with his thick brown hair, incredible sexy scruff, and hazel eyes, but the man moved with the determination of a predator, and she felt like his next kill.

  Chapter Seven

  Cannon woke at noon with a call from Sheriff Cooper, asking him to pick his father up from the jail. Ben Bishop had been found on Dalton’s mother, Maisey’s front porch. She’d tripped on him when she stepped outside to head to work at the diner.

  Sheriff Cooper told him that Dalton swung by his mom’s house on the way to the diner and swept Ben up. When Cannon’s father became combative, like he always did, Dalton drove him to the station.

  An hour later, Cannon slid into the last parking spot on Main Street, his body working on autopilot. Next to him was an SUV he didn’t recognize. Maybe it was a preseason tourist or the land developer he’d never met but already despised.

  If Bea were here, he would have stopped to say hello and pick up a muffin or a couple of cookies. In the weeks since she’d left Aspen Cove, he still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that she wasn’t there anymore. Part of him had been expecting her to return and open up the shop again. He’d have to change his routine, and he hated change.

  He’d almost made it past the bakery when the door opened and a woman walked out. Doc said there would be change, but Cannon didn’t expect it to be packaged in a slip of a woman with red hair.

  He blazed toward the stranger like a man on fire. His skin prickled with irritation. “Who the hell are you?” Even he didn’t recognize the roar that erupted like lava spewing from an active volcano.

  He towered over the slight little thing, but she didn’t cower.

  She stepped back and tilted her head to look up at him. “Who are you?”

  Cannon ignored the question and tried to remember if Bea had any living relatives, but he couldn’t recall a single person visiting over the years. It was only her husband and the townsfolk around when she lost her daughter Brandy, and only the residents of Aspen Cove were present when her husband Bill passed a few years later. Cannon launched into another tirade. “The poor woman isn’t even buried, and you’re hovering over her assets like they belong to you.”

  The woman’s eyes grew big. “The bakery doesn’t belong to me, and I wasn’t hovering.” She pointed to the window where a slim blonde stood looking out. “The bakery belongs to her, and she’s already had a pretty rough day, so I suggest you be nice.”

  “Or what?” The woman who stood fearlessly in front of him had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. They reminded him of the first leaves to bloom on the Aspen trees for which the town was named.

  “Or nothing. It’s not an ultimatum, just a suggestion. Being surly isn’t the best way to make friends.”

  Cannon stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m not interested in making friends, especially with money-grubbing opportunists. The least you could do was wait until Bea was buried.”

  “We’re not opportunists.” Her voice stuttered. “We’re fulfilling Bea’s final wishes.”

  A hand had reached inside of Cannon’s chest and squeezed. “I hardly think you being here to change things is what Bea had in mind. She loved this town the way it is.”

  “I’m not here to change things.” The woman looked down the street before she turned those mesmerizing eyes back on him.

  Doc’s warning about change warred within Cannon. “Your very presence means change. We don’t need you to come here and save us from ourselves.”

  She laughed. “I’ve been accused of having a savior complex most of my life, but even I don’t have the desire to save this place.”

  “Everything okay out here, Sage?” The blonde from inside moved to stand beside the redhead.

  “Everything is fine, Katie.” Sage’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Aspen Cove sent over their friendliest resident to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  “I wouldn’t call me the welcome wagon.” He bit his tongue. Arguing with a woman was not only unwise, it was deadly. “My advice to you is not to waste your time or money.” He turned in a circle as if to say, Look around you. “You’ll be bankrupt within a week.”

  The prideful woman pulled herself up to all five-foot-few inches of her frame. “You’re wrong.”

  He was a foot taller than her, but somehow she made him feel small. Maybe it was because in the face of an obstacle, namely him, she didn’t back down. He hated her presence, but he respected her courage. He gave the duo one last shake of his head before he turned and headed for the sheriff’s offic
e.

  “He’s cute.” Katie laughed behind his back.

  “Sure is, if you like a man that’s half-donkey and half-snake.”

  At the sheriff’s office, he tried to forget the two women he left on the sidewalk. He focused on his father sleeping off another drunken night. No doubt he was tucked up on the small built-in slab of concrete at the back of the cell.

  “He’s still in a mood.” With keys in hand, Sheriff Aiden Cooper headed for the cell.

  “Do I owe anyone money?” Cannon reached for his near-empty wallet.

  “Not that I know of, but I imagine if you do, they’ll be stopping by the bar.”

  Same shit, different day. “Can he walk?”

  “Couldn’t when Dalton carried him in, but it’s been hours. There’s always hope.”

  Cannon leaned against the brick wall. “I lost hope after I sold my second cabin to finance his second stint in rehab.” He kicked at the wall behind him. “He stayed sober for all of ten days.”

  “They say third time’s a charm.”

  Cannon ran his hands through his hair. “I have nothing else to sell. If I sell the bar, I don’t have the money to pay his debts. If I sell the house, we have no place to sleep. The bait-and-tackle shop belongs to my brother. I refuse to sell what I’ve got left to a developer.” He pushed off the wall and walked with the sheriff to the door where he’d wait for his father. “Hell, I didn’t want to sell the last cabin. Still, the buyer hasn’t shown up to claim it, and it’s been months.”

  A few minutes later, the sheriff led his father out of the cell and into the front office, where a big desk took up one half of the room and a row of chairs took up the other half. Cannon’s father Ben was unstable on his feet and cussing up a storm.

  Cannon sighed. Nothing changed. His dad stumbled out the front door onto Main Street and staggered to the end of the block, where Ben opened Cannon’s truck and fell into the front seat.