Radio Rose (Change of Heart Cowboys Book 1)

by Stephanie Berget

  Although she’d only knocked once, Irwin answered the door immediately. It was as if he'd been standing there waiting for her. “Come in, Rose. How are you?”

  Rose started to tell him how she was. She knew she could confide in him. She just didn't know if he'd understand.

  Hell, she didn't understand. “Not so good, Irwin,” she said. “I left home because Adam and Lillian were working together.” They were the only words she could think to say without sounding like a jealous schoolgirl.

  Irwin looked at her for so long she wondered if she’d spoken Greek by mistake. Not that she knew Greek, or any foreign language besides the Latin used in physics.

  All of a sudden, he took her hand and led her toward the kitchen. “You need a cup of coffee.”

  The wonderful aroma of fresh made coffee filled the small apartment. When she took a sip, it was nirvana. Irwin didn't drink coffee, but what he made was out of this world. He indicated his small kitchen table, and they sat. The man wasn’t much for small talk, and after her second cup in peaceful silence she was feeling marginally better.

  She was so thankful for the quiet, she hadn’t intended on speaking. The words just came tumbling out before she could stop them. “I'm supposed to be helping the man who caused my wreck. You met Adam once at the station. He's really still a stranger, but I like him.”

  She took another sip from her cup. “He's going to inherit a whole lot of money from the grandfather he hated, if he can fulfill the stipulations of the will. If he fails, his grandfather's secretary gets it all.”

  Darwin jumped into Irwin’s lap, and she watched Irwin’s hand stroke the silky black fur. It was mesmerizing. He didn’t speak, just waited for her.

  Rose wrapped her cold hands around the warmth of the cup and tried to relax, but she was too keyed up. “I don't trust her, and she just kicked me out of my own kitchen. Adam thinks she's trying to help him. I think she's trying to screw him over, figuratively and literally.”

  She felt like crying, and she hadn't cried since her dad died. “God, I’m an idiot. I walked all the way over here because my fickle car won't start for anybody but him. How's that for a crappy start to my day?”

  Irwin continued to stroke the cat’s fur, the rhythmic motion strangely calming.

  “Just follow your heart and everything will work out,” Irwin said then stood. “Would you like more coffee?”

  Leave it to Irwin not to talk a subject to death. It was surprising to find having someone just listen made her feel better.

  As she sipped her coffee, she realized she'd allowed Lillian to get the better of her. She was the one who had gotten in a snit and walked across town in the cold. She'd let Lillian push her out instead of staying. She’d given up without a fight.

  “Thanks, Irwin. You've helped more than I can say.”

  “See you at work tonight,” he said as she headed for the door.

  Rose was only four blocks from home when Adam found her. He pulled Miss Cool up to the curb, reached over and pushed open the passenger door. “What do you think you’re doing? Get in here and warm up, it's freezing.”

  She thought about refusing, but her fingertips and toes were like popsicles. After settling into Miss Cool’s seat, she held her hands in front of the car’s heater. Hot air blasted into the interior.

  “Where did you go? We were working, and I realized you didn't come back. Lillian said you had to leave, but when I looked out the window, your car was there. I've been driving around looking for you ever since.”

  “Look, you didn't need my help, and Lillian,” she drew out the name, “informed me I would be in the way.” Rose felt confused, angry and foolish all rolled into one, not-so-pretty package. “I was going to drive over to see Irwin, but Miss Cool wouldn't start so I walked. I don’t know why you’re so worried, you didn't even notice I was gone.”

  “What do you mean in the way?” Adam shifted into park then turned in the seat to face Rose. “I’m confused. You went to get dressed, and the next thing I know you’re gone. Lillian said you had something to do, and you'd be back later.”

  “Goes to show you what you get for listening to Lillian,” Rose said.

  “What does that mean? She was helping.”

  “Helping my ass! Make that your ass, Adam. She told me to leave you two alone! You didn't notice what she said or even that I left.” Rose took a shaky breath and tried to get control of her anger. It was a lost cause. “Why do I have to defend myself to you? I tell you she lied, and you stick up for her. Believe whatever you want.”

  Adam turned the key off, and the engine pinged as it cooled.

  What he said next surprised her. “You're right. I shouldn't have questioned you in the first place. I wasn't paying attention. I was so wrapped up in looking at the paperwork I didn't hear anything either of you said.” He reached across the car and took her frigid hand in his warm one. “I’m sorry.”

  The contact of his skin on hers spiked her temperature faster a cup of McDonald’s coffee. The rough skin of his palm surrounded her smaller hand, and his thumb stroked her wrist. He really was a nice man. Maybe too nice in regards to Lillian. She still wasn’t sure where the woman stood in all of this.

  Rose didn't trust the blonde as far as she could throw her, and as Lillian was at least six inches taller, she couldn't throw the Amazon very far.

  Lillian wanted something—more probably everything. What she didn't want was to help, but Adam wasn’t able to see that truth. Rose's best guess was he was looking in the wrong place or at the wrong thing.

  “Okay,” Rose said. Moving on to a more neutral subject, she asked, “Did you find anything in the material she brought?”

  “Nothing new. I was excited when she first arrived, but after I went through it thoroughly, it was obvious we’d already found all the information it contained.”

  Rose wanted to say, “I told you so.” But she bit her tongue and held her breath until the urge subsided. Instead she asked, “Where do we go from here?”

  “How about I drop you off at the flower shop then I'll go to the motel. That way we'll check out two properties at the same time. You up for that?” he asked.

  Rose had spent several hours going over the books for the Fairy Time Flower shop, and no matter how she looked at the information there wasn't any good news. The shop had cut all the corners it could and was still in the hole every month. In fact, the shop's owner would have closed two years ago if Simon hadn't bought her out and fed her just enough money to keep the business afloat.

  This whole set-up didn't make any sense. Why would Mr. Howell buy businesses that were so obviously losers? Adam was right. Simon had set him up to fail.

  It would be easy to revamp the garage and probably the radio station, but she didn't know where to start with the others. “I can’t wait to meet Mrs. Hegstad and see the inside of the shop.” Curiosity hummed through her veins.

  Adam pulled into a parking space in front of the shop. “I’ll pick you up in forty-five minutes, more or less.”

  She watched as he drove down the street toward the motel then opened the heavy oak door that led the way to enchantment. From the moment she stepped inside, Fairy Time Flowers captivated Rose. The store was a magic wonderland. A tiny space filled with flowers, books and plants with fairies and gnomes in every nook and cranny. Tiny fairies were perched in the plants, gnome garden statues stood guard beside benches, and someone had even painted a mural on one wall of woodlands filled with elves and fairies peeking around the trees and bushes.

  “Hello, is anyone here?” Rose called out.

  “Komme,” sang a voice out of nowhere. “One moment.”

  Rose stood in front of an old wooden trestle table that served as a counter, a gold-gilded antique cash register nestled on one end. Philodendron, ivy and spider plants covered most of the rest, leaving a small area to ring up sales. Colorful bouquets filled an older cooler. Whoever owned the place was overflowing with talent.

  Rose heard soft
footsteps and turned back to the table. A white-haired tiny woman, looking much like the grandmother to the elves in the store, peered over the table.

  “God morgon,” the owner said. This woman fit into the atmosphere of her shop like a songbird in an apple tree. At less than five feet tall, she had to look up at Rose.

  This was new for Rose because at five feet, two inches, she was used to doing the looking up. “I’m Rose Wajnowski,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m working with Adam Cameron. As Mr. Howell’s grandson, he’s inherited Mr. Howell’s estate. I’m here to get acquainted and see what we can do to make things better for you.”

  “Velkommen. I’m Sonja Hegstad.” Sonja took Rose’s hand into both of hers and squeezed.

  “Your shop is lovely, Mrs. Hegstad.”

  “Takk. My dear husband Elvin and I moved here from Trondheim. That’s in Norway, you know.”

  “How did you get here?” Rose asked.

  “By a big ship, and it took many days.” Sonja’s voice softened. “That was in 1952. I tell you, it was a shock to move from our beautiful ocean country to a desert, but I’ve come to love this area.”

  “You couldn’t have been very old. What made you move here of all places?”

  “Elvin’s brother, Gerhart Heinz, had lived here for several years and encouraged us to come to America. He was not well and needed help running this shop. That had been our dream, to have a flower shop, so we came.” She shrugged as if moving across the world was something people did all the time. “Then we lost Gerhart Heinz a year after we arrived.

  People did move, all the time, but the thought of moving to a different country made it hard for Rose to breath. She’d left California and come to Colorado by herself, but everyone still spoke the same language, and she’d been close enough to drive back if she wanted.

  “So you run this shop with your husband?” Rose thought the papers had listed Sonja Hegstad as the sole proprietor.

  “Oh, no, no. I lost my darling Elvin twenty-two years ago. I decided to run the store by myself. What else did I have to do? We weren’t blessed with children, and I had no family here. This shop was our spedbarn.”

  “Spey-a-barn?” Rose’s eyebrows tilted down in confusion.

  “Oh, ja. Spedbarn means baby in Norwegian.” Sonja reached for Rose’s hand. “Oh dear, I haven’t offered you anything to drink. Come, come, let us have tea.”

  They moved into the back of the store. Iris, tulips, daisies and roses stood at attention in large buckets, and their scent enveloped Rose like a welcoming fog.

  Sonja sat Rose at a table covered with an embroidered cloth and bustled away. Within a few minutes, she was back with a teapot and two delicate china cups.

  “This is lovely, thank you.” Rose took a sip. “What can you tell me about Mr. Howell?”

  “Oh, dear. Where do I start?” Sonja said as she picked up her cup. “I didn't have the heart left in me to move Elvin’s store so I was going to close. Once the new highway went in, the customers, they stayed in Trinidad. I didn’t believe Mr. Howell when he first offered to buy my lovely shop. Why would he want a flower shop that didn’t make money? Why would he want me to keep working here? I still can’t figure it out.”

  “How long has it been since his offer, since he bought you out?”

  “I haven’t talked to him since the day two years ago, when he gave me the check, but each month money arrived, just enough to keep me going. This was strange, but I do love my little shop, so I stayed.”

  “It’s wonderful here. I feel like I'm a child in a fairyland forest,” Rose said as she sipped the Earl Grey.

  “Do you know vat is going to happen now?” Sonja asked, worry creeping into her voice. Apprehension caused her Scandinavian accent to become more evident.

  Rose placed her cup on the saucer and sat back into the cushioned chair. “Mr. Howell's grandson has inherited all of the businesses. We are trying to see what shape they are in, and how we can help.”

  Sonja shook her head. “I don't vant lose my store.”

  “Believe me,” Rose said. “We don't want you to lose it either. We’ll do everything we can to keep your store open.” Rose stood, picked up her purse and turned to the white-haired woman.

  Sonja’s smile lit up the room like a one hundred watt bulb. She looked like everyone’s fairytale grandmother as she gave Rose a hug. “You know, I have a feeling everything will work out. All we need is a little miracle.”

  “A little miracle?” Doubt made it difficult for Rose to return the smile. “We can always hope.”

  -#-

  Adam sat in Miss Cool and stared at the mess before him. He should have brought Rose. The motel was a shambles, but she saw the bright side of everything, and looking at the buildings, he needed a bright side. The Tullyville Motel looked to be constructed in the forties or fifties, the heyday of roadside motels, and it didn’t appear to have had much upkeep since then. The weeds in the parking lot were an easy fix, but the roof and chipped stucco would take a lot of money and manpower.

  Built to resemble miniature Swiss chalets, each unit was a separate building with a high peaked roof and peeling curly-cue trim. The place looked like Switzerland had fallen on hard times. If the outside looked this sorry, the inside couldn’t be much better.

  He pulled the car up to the building and shut her down. “You wait here Miss Cool. I'll be right back.” He'd taken to talking to the car. When had that happened? Hell, his grandfather was probably looking up and laughing.

  He pulled open the door to the motel office, stepped inside and heard a bell tinkle somewhere in the back.

  As he waited, he took in the room. The interior was surprisingly clean. Against one wall was an old green camel-backed sofa filled with pretty floral pillows. A large round matching woven rug covered a well-worn old carpet. The windows were clean, and the walls had a fresh coat of pale yellow paint.

  A vase held bright yellow tulips and baby’s breath, and a basket of muffins sat on a small table by a pot of coffee. As the aroma swirled up and filled the air around him, his stomach rumbled. He was checking out the muffins when an inner door squeaked. A young woman with spiky, electric purple hair and a small silver nose ring stood behind the counter.

  He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. The purple color held his gaze.

  “Welcome to the Tullyville Motel,” she said, her smile welcoming. “How may I help you?” When he just stared, her smile grew wider. “I know. I have this effect on everybody, but I don't bite, really. Are you looking for a room? We have some newly redecorated ones, and our prices are very reasonable.”

  Corralling his wits, he asked, “May I speak to the manager?”

  “That would be me. Well, me and my sister.” She pushed open the door a crack and yelled. “Michael, get your butt out here.”

  If Adam thought he’d been knocked off guard by the purple woman, he was stunned as a carbon copy came through the door. Exactly the same, except this model’s hair was neon orange.

  “You don’t have to yell. I’m not deaf.” When she noticed Adam, her voice dropped from a screech to quietly elegant. “Oh, a customer. Welcome. Did Stevie tell you about our specials?”

  Now he was not only speechless, his eyes were playing tricks on him. He closed them, shook his head, cleared his throat then looked again.

  Nope, no tricks. He managed a smile, a weak one. “I'm not a customer. I'm the new owner. I don't quite know what to say. I guess I was expecting someone older to run the motel, and a man.”

  The girl with the purple hair stepped forward. “Our mom inherited the motel from her parents, but after twenty years, she got tired of taking care of guests. When she went to Florida with her boyfriend, she gave all this to us.”

  Once he got over the hair color, he saw this girl really was a beauty. They both were. “I’m Adam Cameron. If you don’t mind my asking, how’s business?”

  “Not as good as we’d like. The motel has been in the family . . . well
, we're the third generation. Mickie and I love this place. We wanted to stay here, but with business moving up highway eighty-five to Trinidad, we were going to have to close the doors.”

  The one with the orange hair continued. “That’s when Mr. Howell bought us out. Strange old guy sent us enough money each month to keep the motel open. Our plan is to save enough to buy the place back.”

  The purple haired twin placed her elbows on the counter and leaned toward Adam. “Since the doctor started doing those operations, everything migrated east to Trinidad. Our next step was to try advertising to the patients, but then Mr. Howell died, and we didn't know what would happen. Will we get to stay open?”

  Adam looked from one girl to the other in amazement. “Hopefully. I’m getting a feel for things then we'll have a meeting and explain everything. The first thing I have to get straight is your names? I'm confused.”

  Their faces broke into identical grins.

  Purple said, “Our parents tried for a long time to have children. They only got one shot. Dad really wanted boys. He did get two kids at once, but we were both girls. He just refused to believe life would pull such a cosmic joke on him so he named me Steven. You can call me Stevie.”

  “And my name is Michael, better known as Mickie,” the girl with the orange hair said. “Stevie and Mickie Prentiss. The joke was on us because he left when we were two. Haven’t heard from him since.”

  A silent message seemed to pass between the twins. Then Stevie studied him from behind her lashes. “The hair color helps to relieve the boredom. We do change it from time to time, but we'll tell you who is who when we do. Besides, Mickie always does warm colors, and I do cool colors.”

  “Warm and cool?” Adam asked, thoroughly confused by the way this conversation was going. “You’re going to have to explain that another day.” Maybe Rose could tell him what the girls meant.

  “You probably want to see the rest of the motel,” Mickie said, grabbing a large ring of keys. “We haven't had an overflow of customers the last few months, so we've used our extra time to start remodeling the rooms. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but we padded the expenses we requested from Mr. Howell, to get money for paint and curtains, things like that. Since you’re the owner now, we’ll show you the results.”