Love Finds You in Snowball, Arkansas

by Sandra D. Bricker

  BY SANDRA D. BRICKER

  SummeRSIde

  PRESS

  Love Finds You in Snowball, Arkansas

  © 2008 by Sandra D. Bricker

  ISBN 978-1-934770-45-0

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  Cover photo by Marci Reno. Interior photos by Marci Reno and Mark Simmons.

  The town depicted in this book is a real place, but all characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or events are purely coincidental.

  Cover and Interior Design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group | mullerhaus.net

  Published by Summerside Press, Inc., 11024 Quebec Circle, Bloomington, Minnesota 55438 | SummersidePress.com

  Fall in love with Summerside.

  Printed in the USA.

  For D.

  “Love…bears all things, believes all things,

  hopes all things, endures all things.

  Love never fails.”

  1 Corinthians 13:4, 7–8

  Special thanks and honorable mentions to my girls,

  Jemelle, Marian, Debby, Loree, and Page,

  who also never fail me.

  And to Rachel, the best editor there is.

  IF YOU BLINK WHILE YOU’RE LOOKING AT AN ARKANSAS map, you could miss Snowball altogether. Perched right in the middle of Searcy County, Snowball was once a commercial center; however, when transportation improved in the 1950s, business moved to nearby Marshall. The Snowball school and post office closed down within ten years, and current-day “downtown Snowball” consists of little more than an old town meeting hall and the shell of a general store. The surrounding area is dotted with rustic and historic cabins and campsites, and some of the most beautiful scenery in the country revolves around the remarkable Ozarks region. An old adage about the area proclaims, “It’s not that the mountains are so high; it’s just that the valleys are so deep.” The exquisite Buffalo National River, which runs through the area, is approximately 150 miles long and has both swift-running and placid sections. Deer and elk graze along its banks, and some of the best bass fishing in the region can be found there.

  Sandra D. Bricker

  Good morning, Lord!

  I promised myself when I started this prayer journal that I wouldn’t let it turn into a whine-fest in ink. I really tried to keep that promise, too. I mean, I’ve thanked You daily for my stellar job and for Mattie and for that day when I stumbled upon the clearance sale on work clothes at Macy’s. And I’ve certainly been appreciative of the great hair days when they happen. But I hope You’ll forgive me as I digress this morning because I just don’t think the numbers should be working against me like they are. Case in point: There are roughly 200,000 people in the naked city of Little Rock, Lord. I figure 50 percent of them are male. If you take away half of those as married or involved—and probably another quarter who are either gay or just not worth the effort—that should still leave a few good options from which to choose, right?

  Well, where are they? Seriously. Are they hiding? Out of town? Living in Tucson? My thirtieth birthday is looming on next month’s horizon like a giant meteor barreling toward Earth, and I’m starting to wonder if this will just be another decade in the pursuit of great hair and Friday nights at the movies with Matt. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really thankful for all my blessings, and I’m not asking for a parting of the Red Sea here or that You turn someone into salt or anything. I’d just like to meet one average someone. [Well. You know. Not TOO average.] Someone who will cherish me and appreciate me. Someone who will share my life with me.

  Not that there’s too much life left now, of course. I mean, I’ll be 30 next month, Lord. I know You already know this, but I thought I’d just remind You. I’m not getting any younger here.

  Love,

  Lucy

  Chapter One

  “I TELL YOU, I’M SAILING UP THE RELATIONSHIP RIVER WITH A BROKEN rubber paddle and a slow leak in my boat!” Lucy told her best friend, Matt Frazier, as they inspected the goodies on the snack table at the back of the room. “I mean, what is the deal here? I know I’m no Paris Hilton—”

  “Thank You, Lord.”

  “Ah, thanks, Mattie,” she said with a grin as she lifted a Danish with the wrong end of a plastic spork. “What is this?”

  “Pineapple, I think.”

  Lucy’s upper lip twitched on one side as she dropped the thing back to the plate and moved on to a tray of mystery roll-ups.

  “Cream cheese?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Anyway, I’m no blond bombshell,” she continued. “But I’ve got other good points, don’t I?”

  “Indeed you do.”

  “I’m reasonably attractive.”

  “A solid nine.”

  “Really, Mattie? A nine?

  “Solid.”

  Lucy smiled, happy with the rating. “I’m intelligent.”

  “A good, hearty…five.”

  “Hey.”

  “Kidding. You’re a Rhodes scholar waiting to happen.”

  “You bet I am,” she replied after a chuckle. “And I have this great French genealogy going on.”

  “Vous êtes magnifique,” he stated with flair.

  “Matt. You speak French?”

  “Only what I remember from four years of it in high school. Continuer,” he urged with the motion of one hand as he poked a toothpick through a meatball with the other.

  “I’m tolerably fit and in good health. Oooh! And some days, I have really great hair,” she stated with determination.

  “You really do.”

  “So what’s the deal? Why am I still single and alone?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied and then plopped the meatball into his mouth, talking over it. “But it’s wrong in any language.”

  “I know.”

  Lucy looked down at a messy stack of flyers on the table nearby.

  RELAX. RENEW. REFRESH. SEEK HIS WILL FOR YOUR LIFE. JOIN THE SINGLES MINISTRY IN SNOWBALL, ARKANSAS, FOR A WHOLE WEEK OF PRAYER, PRAISE, AND FUN.

  “What do you think about this?” she asked Matt.

  “I was going to ask you. I think it would be a ton of fun. Alison said they were planning a fishing trip, maybe some kayaking.”

  “Oh, right up my alley,” Lucy remarked. “Not.”

  “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s sign up.”

  “You feel free,” Lucy told him. “If I’m going on a retreat to relax and renew, it’s going to be at a four-star hotel somewhere overlooking a beach.”

  She didn’t want to say it out loud, but there was also the company they would be forced to keep. She loved the singles group, for the most part. But a whole week with them?

  Lucy’s lips slowly turned downward as she looked around the room at the singles gathered there. There were half a dozen people that Lucy didn’t remember by name, people who had joined the group in the last few months as church membership grew. And then there were the regulars, the ones who were there rain or shine on the third Friday night of every month, for each of the five years since Lucy had joined the fellowship at Grace Community Church.

  Alison Duncan. Thirty-five. A little bossy sometimes, but only because she’s
eager to create good experiences for the singles group.

  Jeff Burnett. Forty-ish. Prematurely silver. Computer geek. Can be a little gruff, but there’s a teddy bear waaaaay underneath.

  Tony Howland. Under thirty, but not by much. Nice-looking. A little over-enthusiastic about things that don’t really warrant it, but enthusiasm can’t really be a bad thing.

  Brenda Marco. A forty-something force of nature with her finger on the pulse of the church social scene. Brenda is tabloid television incarnate.

  Cyndi Llewellyn—

  Lucy’s thoughts came screeching to a halt as her eyes landed on six feet of rugged, luscious potential boyfriendness as HE sauntered through the door. Straight blond hair that brushed the collar of his denim shirt. A square jaw shadowed in light stubble. Broad shoulders. Amazing green eyes.

  “Who. Is. That?”

  Matt gave the doorway a casual glance and then turned his attention to the chicken wings he’d just piled on a paper plate.

  “Oh, that’s Justin Something. He joined last month.”

  “Justin What?”

  “I can’t remember. Nice guy. Contractor. Owns his own company.”

  “He looks like that underwear model in the Macy’s commercials.” Lucy’s eyes rounded as the “model” approached, and she full-on grinned when he extended his hand toward Matt.

  “How are you, Matt?”

  “Great, Justin. Good to see you again,” Matt replied, wiping his hands on a napkin before completing the handshake. “This is my friend Lucy Binoche.”

  “Justin Gerard,” the vision said to her.

  “Lucy.” Matt already told him, Lucy. Don’t repeat yourself like a dork. “Lucy Binoche.” Will you stop it?

  “So are you two going on the retreat to the Ozarks?” he asked, oblivious to the fact that his green eyes were piercing a hole right through Lucy.

  Matt was quick to reply. “Nah.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I thought it might be fun,” he told them, running a hand through his streaks-of-light hair.

  “You’re going?” Lucy’s heart began to race.

  “I am. In fact, I’m going over to sign up right now.”

  “Me, too,” she told him.

  Matt squinted at her. “I thought you said—”

  “I think it will be fun,” Lucy interrupted. “Come on, Matt. Join us.”

  “Really.” Matt was completely deadpan. “And here I thought you weren’t interested in log cabins and trout fishing.”

  “Smallmouth bass, actually,” the vision interjected. “You’d have to go up to White River for the trout experience. Buffalo National is bass territory.”

  “I love a good sea bass,” Lucy said, reminding Matt of something he already knew.

  “Well, I don’t think smallmouth bass are exactly what you’re thinking of,” Matt told her.

  Grilled sea bass was the special the last time they’d eaten at Loca Luna. It had come with buttermilk mashed potatoes and cream gravy, along with a perfect serving of steamed vegetables.

  “Oh. I know that. I was just joking.”

  “Well, come on, Matthew. Put your name down,” Justin prodded, and then he turned toward the sign-up table at the far end of the room.

  As they followed, Matt drew loony circles around his ear at Lucy. “You’re nuts,” he mouthed without a sound.

  “Oh, be quiet,” she mouthed back at him. “He’s gooooorgeous!”

  Lucy had been running Guest Services at the Conroy Hotel for nearly six years. Not one day had passed when she didn’t think of a reason to love her job. The Conroy was the first five-star boutique hotel in Little Rock. The lobby alone made it worthwhile to come to work with its well-placed antique furniture, round marble fireplace, and unexpected pops of color. The rooms were understated and elegant; each contained a four-poster queen bed draped in panels of silk.

  The phone was ringing as Lucy walked into her office, and Lois, the administrative assistant, answered with a velvet voice.

  “Guest Services. How may we serve you today?”

  Lucy’s desk was partitioned off from the rest of the office, and behind the slate blue cubicle sat an impressive mahogany desk, several filing cabinets, and a credenza in a matching wood grain. Two wine-colored wingback chairs flanked the desk on either side, upholstered in soft micro-suede. The crystal bowl of potpourri and three pillar candles on the credenza gave the office a sweet vanilla kiss.

  She’d just dropped into her dark brown leather chair when Lois called to her from the other side of the room.

  “Morning.”

  “Morning.”

  “Matt can’t make lunch until one o’clock. And the VIPs in the Presidential Suite are looking for tickets to the Shakespearean festival on Saturday.”

  “Is Matt in his office?”

  “Only until nine thirty.”

  “I’m going to take a walk down to Bookkeeping. Will you call on those tickets?”

  “You got it.”

  “Thanks, Lois.”

  Lucy smoothed her navy blue pencil skirt with the palm of her hand as she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. When the doors closed, she used the reflection of the shiny golden walls to fluff her long dark-red curls and straighten the collar of her starched white blouse.

  “Consider it part of your job description,” the general manager of the hotel had announced at the last meeting of the service staff. “Once you enter the lobby of this hotel, there should not be a visible wrinkle or a hair out of place. When representing the Conroy, you are each responsible to do so in a professional and elegant manner, in keeping with this hotel’s five-star personality.”

  The click-click-click of Lucy’s three-and-a-half-inch heels against the cold, polished marble of the lobby floor kept a perfect rhythm as she smiled and nodded to each guest and staff member she passed.

  Down the hall and to the left… It was only nine in the morning, yet Matt already looked as if he’d worked a full day. His sandy brown hair was tousled, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. His sport coat was spread across the credenza behind his desk, and his shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbow.

  “Hey, what are you doing down here?” he asked when he saw her. He slipped the wire frames from his face and tossed them to the desk. “Slumming a little bit?”

  “Just a little bit,” she replied. “I wanted to find out if you’re mad at me.”

  “You know better than that.” Matt’s hazel eyes twinkled. “You mean because of the about-face on the Ozarks trip?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not mad. Just reminded.”

  “Of?”

  “Of how unstable you really are.”

  “Oh, that. Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Hey, if you remember, I was the one who wanted to go on the trip to begin with. You, my friend, are the one who said it wasn’t worth our time.”

  “That was before God dropped my new boyfriend into the picture.”

  “Your boyfriend already? He certainly does move fast.”

  “Not yet,” Lucy admitted. “But I plan to inspire him out in Snowball.”

  “Snowball? That’s where we’re going?”

  “Some retreat camp of log cabins and hiking trails. Near that Buffalo place.”

  “Buffalo National River?”

  “Right. There.”

  “And you’ll be hiking on this trip, will you?” Matt asked her, his skepticism blinking like an electrical sign with a short.

  “I certainly will. Hiking, fishing, rowing something.”

  “I can hardly wait to see this.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she said mischievously. “Because I’m going to bring Chinese food over to your place tonight, and you’re going to teach me how.”

  “How to what?”

  “Fish. And row.”

  Matt burst into laughter and then nodded.

  “It’s a date, Lucy. Don’t forget the crab rangoon, and I’ll teach you how to row something.”
<
br />   “Deal.”

  On her way to the elevator, the front desk manager handed her two pink message slips to review in the ride back up to the mezzanine.

  THE PALMERS, RM 420. WANT YOUR RECOMMENDATION FOR A DINNER RESERVATION. HUNGRY FOR SEAFOOD.

  FLOWERS DELIV’D TO GOVERNOR’S SUITE, PER YOUR INSTRUX. CARD READ: WELCOME BACK. LUCY IN GUEST SERVICES.

  There was nothing Lucy loved more than making a guest experience memorable, and she’d developed quite a reputation for doing just that.

  She picked up her desk phone and dialed before she even sat down. “Mrs. Palmer, it’s Lucy Binoche in Guest Services. I’m going to make a reservation for you and Mr. Palmer at a place called The Terrace. They have a sea bass on the menu that’s exquisite. What time would you like to have dinner?”

  “Lucy, you’re a treasure. How about seven thirty?”

  “Sounds great. You’ll want to leave the hotel by seven, and I’ll leave directions for you at the front desk.”

  “What would we do without you? I wish we could take you home with us.”

  “Careful, I might sneak into your luggage,” Lucy teased. “Now, you have a wonderful dinner. And be sure to order the raspberry crème brûlée for dessert. It’s unforgettable.”

  “Oooh, that sounds perfect. It’s our anniversary, you know.”

  “Your anniversary?” she exclaimed. “That’s wonderful!”

  “Forty beautiful years.”

  “Congratulations, Mrs. Palmer. As a single girl myself, I find forty years awe-inspiring.”

  “You’re still single, Lucy? What a shame that some man doesn’t have any idea how much he’s missing. But you’ll find him, sweetheart. You can be sure of that.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” she added. “Have a lovely celebration.”

  “We will.”

  People always marveled that she was still single, and Lucy took a moment to marvel a bit herself. Then, remembering Justin and the upcoming retreat to Snowball, she shook her head and smiled.