The heavens hadn’t opened last night, but Zeke felt better than he had in years. Only Box No. 1 remained to be emptied. Last night, when he slit it open, he had seen a photograph of himself and his dad taken twenty years ago on a camping trip. Choking up, he’d gently closed the cardboard flaps. That box held his father’s personal things and deserved special respect, so he’d set it on the workbench with the intention of unpacking it on Sunday.
God was doing something inside him, something Zeke didn’t understand as he dressed in his best suit for the meeting. At least he hoped God was doing something, because with the Carter account still undecided and budget-busters like paving the lookout, Zeke needed all the help he could get.
When he arrived at the Travers mansion, George called a greeting from the far end of the porch. Seated in the swing and holding a glass of lemonade, he raised the tumbler in a mock toast. “To my stubborn sister.”
Zeke knew better than to get between George and Ginger, but George’s support pleased him. “She means well.”
“Women.” George scowled at the spot on the lawn where Ellen had twisted her ankle. “They drive me nuts.”
Zeke could sympathize. “So who’s driving you crazier? Ginger or Ellen?”
“Ellen. God sure has a sense of humor. I’m about to go on Medicare, and she has me thinking like a teenager.”
Zeke gave a sigh of his own. “Women.”
“Can’t live with ’em—”
“And can’t live without them,” Zeke finished.
George took a swig of lemonade, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and swirled the liquid and ice so fast it rattled. “Can you believe it? I’m even writing songs about her. Mushy ones.”
Zeke didn’t see the problem. In fact, he envied George. He and Ellen were single, financially secure, and relatively unencumbered by career and family demands. On the other hand, Zeke and Julia faced career challenges, maybe unemployment for Zeke, faith differences, and Hunter’s claims to Max.
Frustrated by it all, he said, “You two are great together. What’s the problem?”
“She had an awful time when her husband died. She’s scared of going through that again, and I don’t blame her.” He drummed his fingers on the glass. “We’re just friends now and that’s fine, but I’m so tied up in knots I can’t stand it.”
Zeke couldn’t resist. “You know what you’d say to me?”
George glared at him. “Punk.”
Grinning, Zeke leaned against the railing. “You’d tell me to hang loose and trust God. And you’d mean it.”
George offered up an ironic smile. “Yes, I would. Keep reminding me, okay?”
The front door opened and Ginger stepped onto the deck. Her gaze darted between the two of them. “You look like partners in crime.”
“You bet we’re partners,” George told her. “Zeke’s right about saving this place.”
Ginger’s mouth wrinkled into a frown. “You don’t know that, George. You promised to listen and to be on good behavior.”
Here it comes, the famous Travers Twins bickering. Sure enough, George raised the glass of lemonade in another toast.
“To Maury Snapple-gate—”
Ginger huffed. “George, really.”
“May the best man win.” With that, he chugged the last of the lemonade and slammed the glass down on the armrest.
A car engine rumbled in the distance. Zeke turned his head and saw Hunter’s Lexus cruise to a stop at the end of the driveway. Hunter climbed out first, straightened his coat with a flex of his shoulders, and tugged his cuffs into place.
The passenger door opened next. Zeke had seen photographs of Maury Applegate when he Googled him. Most were business portraits with Maury in a suit and tie, or pictures of the grip-and-grin variety with Maury presenting an award. The photographs were all formal and posed, so when he climbed out of the car, Zeke expected to see a man with Hunter’s demeanor.
But Maury Applegate surprised him. He was shorter than Zeke had assumed, balding with a fringe of white hair, and dressed in a plaid shirt straight out of the Sears catalog. A white goatee balanced his puffy red cheeks. Maury didn’t look at all like a man made of money, but those men were often the most powerful of all.
Hunter led the way up the steps, greeted Ginger first, then made introductions. George nodded curtly to Hunter but greeted Maury with his trademark smile and a firm handshake.
Zeke followed suit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise, Zeke.” Maury squeezed back hard. “Those reports you sent were detailed and insightful. Good work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Call me Maury.”
The warm greeting knocked Zeke off balance. He’d been expecting a shark, not a nice old man in a plaid shirt. There was something familiar about him, something Zeke couldn’t place until Maury’s eyes twinkled like stars at the North Pole. That was it—Maury Applegate reminded him of Santa Claus.
Zeke’s heart sank. There was no way he could compete with Santa Claus. He’d do his best today, but the fight was even more uphill than he had realized. God? Are you there? This is it.
Forcing a calm he didn’t feel, Zeke faced the group. “Shall we get started?”
twenty-seven
When the office phone rang at 5:48 p.m., Julia nearly jumped out of her skin. She knew it wasn’t her mom calling about Max, because they had spoken ten minutes ago. Max was convinced there were snakes in the yard and wouldn’t go outside. Julia was mad enough to flay Hunter alive, but the only person she wanted to see was Zeke. Hoping to hear his voice, she snatched up the handset.
It was Kevin in maintenance. “Sorry for the bad news, Julia, but we ran into trouble at Golden Point.”
“Oh no. What happened?”
“The paving machine broke down. The contractor has others, but he needs this one because it’s small. He’s waiting for a part. With a little luck, it’ll be up and running on Monday.”
Just five days before the wedding. “We’re cutting it close.” Too close for her taste. “Keep me posted, okay?”
When Kevin hung up, Julia rubbed her temples until she saw stars. No way did she want to disappoint Tiff, and Ginger would use the debacle as another reason to sell Caliente Springs. She would also consider the paving a foolish gamble, a waste of money, and a black mark against Zeke’s judgment.
Julia’s cell phone chirped with a message. Zeke. The meeting had to be over. But when she picked it up, she saw an email from Mrs. Carter replying to a note Julia had sent earlier about the baby.
Little Emma is doing well, but she has a long way to go. Please tell Zeke how much we enjoyed our stay at Caliente Springs and even meeting Ladybug. Larry hasn’t forgotten about the contract. So sorry for the delay, but I know you understand.
Absolutely. But Julia ached for Zeke. Patience might be a virtue, but she didn’t have a drop of it left. Her phone went off again, this time with a meow. Stifling yet more irritation, she answered it. “Hello, Hunter.”
“Hey, babe.”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Zeke’s right. You really are a jerk. “The meeting must be over.”
“It is for me. I begged off dinner, but Maury’s going back to the house tonight.” He paused, daring her to ask about the meeting.
Refusing to give him the satisfaction, she answered with a long silence of her own.
Hunter broke it as if nothing were wrong. “Let’s have dinner tonight. You, me, and Max.”
“No.”
“I want to see him.” Not a word of concern for the snake-bitten horse. Not even concern for Max.
Julia didn’t bother to mention the nightmare. Hunter would tell her she was spoiling him, or worse, he’d tell Max to man up. She needed to run interference, but she also needed to be here for Zeke. “Tonight won’t work.”
“I’ll come to the cottage.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just not a good time for a v
isit.”
“I’m his dad. It’s always a good time.” His voice dropped low and deepened. “I have rights, Julia.”
She remembered Hunter dangling the backpack in the church parking lot. He was threatening her again, but this time she had the protection of a security gate. “Of course you have rights. But so do I. Like I just said, this isn’t a good night for a visit.”
“Well, it’s good for me. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“No, you won’t.” She couldn’t help feeling a little smug. “There’s a gate.”
“So? I have the combination.”
“How—”
“Remember? I drove Uncle Maury to the Travers house for the meeting. Ginger gave it to me.”
The fight drained out of her. She could call hotel security and risk creating a scene, or she could go home and deal with Hunter in private. At the cottage she was on her own turf, but leaving the office meant abandoning Zeke. With Max involved, there was no choice.
Forced to surrender, she stripped the hostility out of her voice. “All right. I’ll see you there at seven.”
“Good. And Julia?”
“What?”
“Uncle Maury liked what he saw today. He’s going to consult with some investors.” He paused, baiting her again. “Zeke played a solid game today. In fact, it was so good, he talked Uncle Maury into moving faster than he planned. Don’t get too attached to this place. Or to Zeke, because he lost today. He’ll be out of a job before you know it.”
Zeke drove away from the Travers house with his voice hoarse from talking, his thoughts confused, and his heart heavy. Uncle Maury was more than Santa Claus. He was Yoda, Mr. Spock, and Cinderella’s fairy godmother rolled into one nice guy. His current employees enjoyed well-managed 401(k) plans, excellent health insurance, and generous paid time off. He ran his redevelopment business ethically, including a program to assist poor people who were displaced.
But now Maury wanted to do something different. He refused to be specific, but he assured George and Ginger that he’d respect the history, land, and employees that made Caliente Springs unique. No bulldozers. No condos or outlet malls. If he kept his word, who was Zeke to stand in the way, even if it cost him his own job?
God, are you listening? I’m trying my best here, and it’s not looking good.
He needed a dose of Julia’s optimism. Eager to put his arms around her, he parked the SUV and walked down the deserted hallway to his office. Knowing she’d be waiting, he walked faster, but when he rounded the corner, he saw the dark lobby. She was gone for the night, her promise broken. He was sure she had a good reason, but the loneliness stung as he walked past her empty desk to his own office.
Just before he flipped on the light, a key turned in the lock on the glass door. As he stepped back into the hall, Julia slipped inside, pausing only to lock the door behind her.
“Jules—”
She hurried down the hall, dropped her purse on the floor, and hugged him hard. No questions. No words at all. Nothing but the comfort of her arms. He lowered his face and kissed her, drinking in the sweetness until she eased back with a sigh.
He cupped her head against his shoulder. “I thought you were gone.”
“I was, but I saw your car in the rearview mirror. I can’t stay long, but I had to see you.”
Guided by the light from the window, he led her to the couch and they sat. He drew her close again, breathed in the scent of her hair, and wondered how in the world he could support her if he lost his job.
Julia broke the silence. “I didn’t want to leave, but Hunter is on his way to the cottage. Max had a nightmare about snakes, and I’m afraid of what Hunter will say to him. I have to be there.”
I’ll go with you. But his presence would only add to the tension with Hunter. Helpless again and hating it, he muttered, “It’s all right. I understand.”
She snuggled against him. “It’s not fair. You have a lot going on too. We were going to talk about whatever happened last night.”
“It can wait.” With his job in jeopardy, he didn’t know what to say to her.
Pulling back, she laid a hand on his arm. “Before I leave, what happened today? Hunter told me Maury’s calling investors.”
“I’m not surprised. Applegate liked what he saw.”
She waited for more. “And?”
“It’s not good, Jules. At least not for me. Maury wouldn’t share details, but he promised not to bulldoze the place. I have the feeling he wants to make it bigger and better.” That was Zeke’s vision too.
“Maybe he’d keep you on.”
“I doubt it.” Zeke knew what he’d do in Maury’s place. “If you’re going to make something brand-new, you have to clean out what’s old. He might keep on specialized managers like Chet and John, but I’d be in his way.”
“Or you’d be useful.”
He stared at the shelves holding the geodes. The details were lost in the dark, and so was he. “George is still against selling, but Ginger is pressing hard. All that matters is doing what’s best for them and the employees.”
“But what about you?” Her voice came out small.
“You know the drill. I polish my résumé. Check out job search engines. Network. Whatever it takes.”
Julia nodded. “What I learned from my own experience was to be open to change.”
“I suppose so.”
But deep down, he hated the idea of being in limbo. Especially now, when he wanted to offer Julia a diamond engagement ring, a wedding of her own, and a house with a white picket fence and a dog for Max.
The room was almost completely dark now, but he could still see the planes of her face. The longing to stay shone in her eyes. Knowing she needed to leave, he stood and offered his hand. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“No. You stay here.” She stood, rested her hands on his shoulders, and massaged the tense muscles. Mischief sparked in her eyes. “We don’t want to start any rumors. And what I have in mind right now—”
“—just might start a lot of them.”
He kissed her. Long and slow. Dark and sweet. They had a few miles to go before they took the next big step, but for now, this kiss was enough.
Ellen believed in simplicity, and dating a man like George didn’t change that part of her personality. When he arrived at the cottage on Friday morning, she was ready to go with a small suitcase and the black dress in an opaque garment bag. He greeted her at the door as if he were a chauffeur, carried her things to the Corvette, and they took off down the highway.
“It’s about four hours to San Jose,” he told her. “We’ll settle in at the hotel first. You can rest while I do a sound check, then we’ll grab an early supper with some friends of mine from Home and Hearth. You’ll be sitting with them during the show.”
George could be a handful, but he was also a big old teddy bear. Ellen stole a look at his strong jaw and his big hands relaxed on the steering wheel. “You’re taking good care of me.”
“I try.” He gave her a sideways smile. “After the show, it’ll be just you and me. We can eat a late dinner somewhere nice or keep it casual at IHOP.”
Candlelight appealed to her far more than a coffee shop, but her heart skittered at the thought of what candlelight implied. “Let’s decide later.”
Silence settled between them. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but neither did it feel right.
After a couple of miles, George cleared his throat. “There’s an old movie theater in downtown San Jose that plays classics. Maybe we should check it out.”
Ellen stifled a sigh. She wasn’t the least bit interested in seeing a movie. In the past two weeks, she and George had watched John Wayne in Rio this and Rio that, three Katharine Hepburn comedies, and all the Chevy Chase Vacation movies, which George thought were hilarious.
She was tired of movies and even more tired of ending each night with a gentle hug. George was a bona fide heartthrob, and when he gave her that special look, she lost her bre
ath. Courage. Just one move on her part and the waiting would be over. He’d kiss her. But he wouldn’t do it unless he knew she was sure.
That first kiss dangled like a ripe peach. Every day it grew brighter in color, softer to the touch, and sweeter from the extra time in the sun. Peaches were all she could think about as they wove through the hills toward the coast.
Keeping one hand on the wheel, George reached to turn on the sound system. “Music?”
“Sure.”
While a playlist loaded, she looked out the window. Maybe she’d kiss him for good luck just before the show. If she got the kiss out of the way, she could enjoy his singing instead of fidgeting through the set list she’d helped him select. An oldie, “I Fall to Pieces” by Patsy Cline, played through the speakers now. Her eyes slid to George’s profile. When his lips parted and he started to sing along, she nearly forgot to breathe.
He hooked a brow at her, then focused on the road while singing softly in his famous baritone. The moment etched itself on her heart—the lyrics, George crooning the soul-searing melody, the empty road, and the sky meeting the hills. Beauty exploded all around her. This moment was meant to be savored. Life was meant to be savored in all its fullness.
“Stop!” she cried.
George swung his head in her direction, then refocused on the highway. “Is it the song? Ellen, I—”
“No. Just stop.”
“Stop what?”
“The car!” She pointed to a turnout with a historical marker. It was about a hundred feet away. “Right there.”
George veered onto the gravel apron, the tires spitting rocks until the Corvette crunched to halt. Swinging the door wide, Ellen burst out of the car like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon.
George climbed out too. “Ellen, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”
She didn’t dare hesitate. Shoulders square, she hurried around the hood of the Corvette. George met her halfway and stopped. Lines of concern fanned from the corners of his deep-set eyes. He was so much like Ben in all the best ways. But George was George, purely himself. And Ellen was herself too. Her heart hammered against her ribs. It was a brand-new rhythm, one that belonged just to them.
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