by Beth K. Vogt
He released a breath. Inhaled, catching just a remnant of her still-familiar coconut-scented shampoo lingering in the air.
Back to work, Webster. You haven’t been able to figure Caron Hollister out for a long time. And if you want to indulge in the scent of coconut, go buy yourself a piña colada cheesecake.
“You ready to see the other two bedrooms?” He ushered Margo forward with a sweep of his arm.
EIGHT
Caron slid out of the front seat of Margo’s car, Emma mirroring her movements from the passenger door behind her. An eager valet, dressed in a white shirt, black bow tie, and black pants, greeted them as he hauled their luggage out of the trunk.
It was almost one o’clock on Friday afternoon, and all Caron wanted was the key to their hotel room and the chance to relax. To take a nap. Anything but sit in Margo’s car, scenery streaming by—no matter how captivating the mountains and glimpses of rocky streams were.
And to think they’d be duplicating this long drive on Sunday, only in reverse, all the way back to Colorado Springs and straight on to Denver, to guarantee she made her late-evening flight to Florida.
“Find me a decent cup of coffee and I may think the drive down here was worth it.” Caron stretched her arms over her head. “Is there any time for me to schedule a massage at the hotel’s spa?”
“Not this trip.” Margo fought to remove her car key from her overloaded key ring so the valet could park her Subaru. “But feel free to schedule massages for us when we all come back here for your wedding.”
“If I come back here.”
“Of course you’re coming back. We got up at six and drove for almost seven hours so we could discover all the reasons to convince Alex that he wants a destination wedding here.”
“Driving through small mountain towns like Florissant and Lake George aren’t going to convince him, that’s for sure. Now, if he was a hunter or liked to fish, he might love Gunnison.” Caron rolled her shoulders backward, then forward. “Although you managed the whole ‘The speed limit’s sixty-five, oh, surprise! Now it’s forty-five’ experience like a pro.”
“It only takes getting caught in a speed trap once.” Margo tossed the words over her shoulder, navigating her way to the front desk. “And you have to admit some of the scenery was remarkable.”
“Yes, it was.”
“You certainly said ‘Stop the car, I need to get a picture of this’ enough times.” Margo waved Caron and her sister to move past her. “I’ll check us in. Go ahead and look around. Take Emma with you and find coffee.”
“You don’t have tell me more than once.” Emma tucked her arm through Caron’s and tugged her forward. “Don’t forget to ask if the events coordinator is around. We want to let them know their prizewinner is in the building.”
Less than ten minutes later, Margo found them standing on a stone balcony overlooking a valley. “What, no coffee?”
“No, but we discovered this view.” Emma motioned with one hand. “If Alex saw this, he’d say yes to a destination wedding, right, Caron?”
Mountains ringed the resort, covered with lush green trees—aspens and pines—with elaborate houses partially hidden within the forest. A grand golf course stretched out before them, golf carts rolling across the well-groomed grass. A patio dotted with tables covered with rust-colored umbrellas was off to the left, surrounded by a four-foot glass wall. To their right, floor-to-ceiling windows allowed visitors to the dining room to enjoy the view, too.
“Nice, isn’t it, if you like rustic decor.”
Caron rested her hands on the balcony. “I’m a Florida girl, but I like all the leather and stone, and the oil paintings of horses are stunning.”
After a few moments, Margo led them back into the hotel lobby, her sandaled feet slapping against the flagstone floor. “Do you think Alex will like it?”
Caron did a slow turnaround. “It’s different, but isn’t a honeymoon the perfect time for something different?”
Emma rubbed her arms. “I didn’t realize it would be so cool up here.”
“One of my coworkers warned me that Telluride’s weather is capricious. That’s why I made sure we brought jackets, even if it is June.” Margo waved the plastic keycards for their room. “How about we go unpack, then find the coffee shop and go walk around Mountain Village?”
Caron motioned to the small coffee cart situated in one corner of the lobby. “Change that to get coffee first and then go unpack and that sounds like a good plan.”
• • •
“So do you think you’re going to be able to convince Alex to have your wedding here?”
Caron would have laughed at the timing of Margo’s question, but she was too busy gritting her teeth and gripping the passenger-door handle as her friend maneuvered her car up the winding, narrow dirt road leading to Bridal Veil Falls.
“I don’t know that now is the best time to ask her that.” Emma leaned forward from the backseat.
“What’s wrong?” Margo pulled over to the right side of the road, close to the sloping edge, so a Jeep coming down from the waterfall could pass them. “This is the best part of the trip, next to the gondola ride in and out of Telluride. I think when we come back for the wedding, we should take a morning and hike up here.”
“That might be fun.” Caron forced herself to release her hold on the handle. Sit back. Unclench her jaw. “I think I might like this road better if I was walking it.”
“This is nothing. You should drive up to Pikes Peak.”
“Sorry I’ll miss that this visit.”
“Liar.” Margo tossed her a grin. “Just look out the window and see how many different colors of columbines you can see along the side of the road. Tell me when you want to stop to take a photo.”
“Just keep driving—” Caron gasped as the car turned a corner. “Stop! Stop!”
She was out of the car before Margo had parked, careful not to slip on the slick muddy ground. The nondescript rocky road had turned into a forest vale, the waterfall plummeting down the sheer face of the rock in front of them and becoming a cascading mountain stream. Towering mountain pines surrounded the makeshift parking lot, and other sightseers wandered about, necks craning, their faces upturned as they gazed at Bridal Veil Falls.
Alex had to see this.
She took photo after photo, first with her cell phone, then with her regular camera, which she had slung around her neck. Emma and Margo joined her, but she barely noticed them as she tried to frame the best photograph.
“We need a photo of the three of us.” Margo tugged her toward the falls. “Get over here!”
The roar of the falls submerged the sound of their laughter, the spray dampening their hair.
“I’ve never seen anything like this.” Caron turned to face the waterfall again. “Can you imagine wedding photos up here?”
“The events planner said you could have your ceremony up at the top of the falls, right?”
“Yes.” Caron couldn’t stop her shoulders from slumping as she covered her camera with the lens cap. “Let’s keep driving. I want to get to the top and see what it’s like.”
Crouching down, Emma took one last photo of Bridal Veil Falls. “Envisioning a wedding?”
“Sort of.”
“What’s wrong?” Margo faced her, head tilted to the side, nose scrunched.
“What do you mean, ‘What’s wrong’?” Caron stood her ground, slippery as it was, but not quite making eye contact.
“You were all excited and then poof! It’s like someone stuck a pin in you and all the enthusiasm disappeared. You’re not nervous about telling Alex about winning the wedding, are you?”
“No . . . yes.” Caron tucked her phone back in her jacket pocket. “Alex is wonderful. But what guy wants to hear his girlfriend say, ‘Guess what, darling, I won a wedding! Ready to get married now?’ ”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to say it better than that. And besides, according to the rules, you have a year to r
edeem the prize.”
“A year. It sounds like a long time, but when it comes to planning a wedding, it’s not.”
“So you go home tonight. You tell Alex in the next couple of days—whenever the time is right—and then you start planning. I’m pulling off a wedding in three months. You can do this, Caron.”
“And you’ll help me, right? I mean, you’ll help me plan the wedding—not to tell Alex.”
“Of course. But first, let’s finish the drive to the top of the falls and then get you back to Denver so you don’t miss your flight.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Caron took one last photo of the waterfall. “This may be the only time I’m thankful I took a later flight.”
NINE
Maybe she should have listened to Margo and stayed in Colorado for two weeks. Of course, it was far too late to be rethinking that decision, considering her boarding pass for her flight from Denver to Fort Walton Beach was stuck between the pages of the novel she’d finished on the flight home. She’d returned late last night and spent today unpacking, doing laundry, and sorting through the stack of mail Alex had left on her dining room table.
Alex.
Caron fashioned her hair into a messy bun, clipping it in place. She’d also spent the day waiting for Alex to call—and half hoping he wouldn’t.
She practiced her announcement out loud for the hundredth time. “Hi, Alex. Colorado was wonderful. And guess what? I won a destination wedding.”
Still didn’t work.
Maybe by the time she finished her as-regular-as-they-could-schedule-it Skype session with Logan, she’d know how to tell Alex about her matrimonial surprise. But for now, she’d do one last check to ensure she had everything she needed for tonight’s conversation, and then sign on.
Comfy pair of old sweatpants cut into shorts. T-shirt. Bare feet. Check. Check. Check.
Glass of sweet tea. Check.
Bowl of pretzel sticks. Check.
Smaller bowl of whipped cream cheese to dip her pretzels in. Check.
Caron moved the glass of tea closer to the edge of the coffee table before settling into the corner of the couch. Nine o’clock Monday night Niceville time—Logan should be on Skype. Time for her to get online, too. She’d taken her laundry from her washing machine to her dryer, and moved another load from her dryer to a laundry basket so she could fold clothes while they chatted. Home from Colorado for all of one day and her life was almost back in order.
Of course, not having to go in to work provided her plenty of extra time to do what she needed to do—including avoid her boyfriend.
And no matter what else happened in life, some things never changed, including Skyping with her brother. Even though Logan was married and continued to chase tornadoes with his team, the Stormeisters, Logan somehow found time to catch up with her online. The Internet was in a good mood tonight and they connected on their first attempt.
“How’s life on the Gulf Coast, Caro?” As the Skype connection activated, Logan’s body blocked the computer screen. He adjusted the desk lamp so she could see his face better, instead of staring at a dim blur, and then sat down.
“To be honest, it’s been interesting.”
“Do tell.”
“Where to start?” She sipped her tea, acknowledging to herself that she was stalling. “Well, I went to Colorado last week to visit Margo. While I was there I won a destination wedding—”
“Seriously? Destination weddings are becoming a family tradition. I didn’t even know Alex had proposed.”
“He hasn’t.”
Logan almost choked on his gulp of Coke. Even though she couldn’t see into his tumbler, Caron knew it was flavored with lemon slices, a long-standing quirk of her brother’s. “Now I’m confused. You won a wedding, but you’re not engaged yet?”
“I admit things are a little out of order. But Alex and I have talked about getting married. Occasionally. And my winning the wedding was purely accidental—”
“How do you accidentally win a destination wedding?” He held up his hand, blocking the screen. “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. You can explain all that to Vanessa, who wants to talk to you when we’re done. Where is this destination wedding going to be?”
Caron adjusted the tasseled pillow behind her back, balancing her laptop on her knees. “Colorado . . . Telluride, to be exact.”
“That’s in the San Juan Mountains, isn’t it?”
“Yes. And they’re stunning. It’s a National Historic Landmark District, if you can believe that.”
“Impressive.”
“Anyway, Margo and I drove down there this past weekend before I flew home. Check out my Instagram account if you want to see some of my photos.”
“That’ll be fun. So, Alex hasn’t proposed. You’ve won a destination wedding. Only you, little sister. Only you.” Logan ran his fingers through his dark blond hair. “This is one of the craziest conversations we’ve ever had.”
“You keep hassling me, big brother, and I won’t tell you the other reason I wanted to talk to you tonight.”
“Hey, I’m hassling you because I am your big brother. It’s my duty.” Logan offered her a smile that charmed her even through the computer screen. “You know I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“And besides, after all this, I don’t know if I want you to tell me anything else.”
“Believe me, you’re not going to want to miss this news flash.” Caron nibbled on a pretzel dipped in cream cheese. “I’m being serious now, Logan.”
“You weren’t before?” Logan held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m sorry. What’s up, Caron?”
“I quit working for Dad.”
“About time. How’s Mom?”
“Wait a minute.” Caron dropped her pretzel back into the bowl of cream cheese. “I tell you I quit working for Dad and all you have to say is ‘About time’ and ‘How’s Mom’?”
“Caro, you’ve needed to quit working for Dad for months. Years, even. I’m not sure you should have ever worked for him. Now you can figure out what you really want to be when you grow up.”
“I know what I want to be when I grow up.” Caron sat up, planting her feet on the floor. “I am a grown-up. I want to be a Realtor. I am a Realtor.”
“Can we be honest here? You’re a Realtor because Dad’s a Realtor, just like you played basketball in high school because Dad likes basketball.”
“I was good at basketball.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t. But would you have played basketball if Dad hadn’t been crazy about basketball? All those times you and he sat around drawing up brackets during March Madness? I never understood the attraction. But I get it that if you played basketball, Dad could come to your games.”
“Well, of course I wanted Dad to come to my games. And Mom and you—”
“But you didn’t ask Mom and me how you did. You sat there while Dad dissected every play, and if he said something as simple as ‘nice job,’ well, you would have thought you’d scored all the points that night.”
Caron chose to ignore her brother’s assessment of her relationship with her father. “I played basketball because I wanted to play basketball. Nobody made me go out for the team, Logan.”
“But why did you want to play basketball?” Logan’s tone was almost detached. “And if you love the game so much, how come you haven’t touched a ball in years?”
“I . . . I’m busy. I have a job. Well, I had a job.” Caron resisted throwing one of the decorative sofa pillows at the computer screen. Barely. “Look, Logan, I wanted to tell you that I quit working for Dad. I didn’t ask you to psychoanalyze me.”
“Fine. You want to tell me why you quit?”
“Only if you’ll listen.”
Logan settled back in his chair, hands folded across his chest, obscuring the Stormeisters’ logo on his T-shirt. “I’m listening.”
“Dad formed a partnership with Nancy Miller.”
“Yeah, he told me abo
ut that. She’s another big-deal Realtor in town, right?”
“He told you?” Caron barely stopped herself from spewing her sweet tea onto her computer.
“What’s the matter?”
“When did he tell you?”
“I don’t know. I think he mentioned it a month ago, maybe two. The last time we talked. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. I find out with the rest of the employees—but you . . . and Mom . . . probably even Vanessa . . . knew before I did.”
“But that’s different.”
“How? How is that different?”
“I don’t work for Dad. Neither does Vanessa or Mom.” Logan leaned forward, his face looming closer. “You chose to be his employee, Caron. Why don’t you see that things have to be handled differently between you and Dad? You can’t expect special treatment because you’re his daughter.”
“I’m not asking for special treatment—”
“Yes, you are. And when you calm down, you’ll realize it. That’s called nepotism. Is that how you want to get ahead? Because Dad made things easy for you? Because you had an ‘in’ with the boss?”
This conversation was spiraling out of control. What had happened to Logan, her big brother who was always there for her?
“Is that what you really think, Logan?”
“Now that you’re not working for Dad, I think you have a perfect opportunity to really think about what you want out of life . . .”
“You and Mom . . .”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Caron pressed her fingertips against the bridge of her nose. “I’ve got to go . . .”
“Caro, stop. Don’t be like this—”
She tried to muster a smile. To end the conversation on some kind of pleasant note. “Like you said, I need time to think. We’ll talk later.”
“Vanessa’s right here. Can’t you at least talk to her?”
“No . . . I’m sorry. Not tonight. I’m tired after a late flight last night and . . .” Somehow this phone conversation had backed her into a virtual corner. “Give her my love.”