by Stacy Finz
He shook his head. “When are you people going to get it through those thick skulls of yours that we need businesses like this? People here need jobs. The town needs revenue. If it’s the sewage system you’re worried about, get it fixed! A bond measure’s a good idea. Or hold a goddamn bake sale. Just do it! If these folks,” he pointed to the five council members, “can’t figure out a way, elect new ones who can.”
Maddy looked over at a smiling Nate. “Don’t jinx it.”
“If Cowboy Clay didn’t clinch it for us, your boyfriend’s about to.”
Maddy couldn’t believe it. Rhys strode up to the podium in his uniform. He hated uniforms, said they made him itch. But for some crazy reason he’d gotten it in his head that the townspeople took him more seriously in it. They’d take him seriously in a clown suit.
“Clay’s a tough act to follow,” Rhys told the crowd. “I want to build on something Portia said earlier about the inn being a hotbed of crime.”
There was a refrain of chuckles and Rhys’s face grew stern. “I might laugh with you, if I hadn’t had to take a young man’s life in that inn.” The hall fell silent. “I feel strongly that Robbie Salter came to Nugget because he found shelter—a place to set up his methamphetamine lab—in the abandoned Lumber Baron. You all may as well have rolled out a red carpet for him, letting that place fall to pieces the way you did. Then he terrorized the place—robbed the Nugget Market, nearly killed Colin Burke and held a knife to . . . Well, you get the picture. Bottom line: You shut that place down and it’ll go vacant again. And this time, it’s all decked out with hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of upgrades. That’s very attractive to thieves and vandals.”
Rhys took a deep breath. “I’m not going to belabor the point, since we’ve been over it before.” He started to walk away, stopped, then grabbed the mic again. “I know most of you are aware that me and Ms. Breyer . . . Oh, hell, how did you say it, Owen?”
“That you’re hot for the girl,” Owen shouted, and the room broke into uproarious laughter.
Rhys smiled. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. So if you think I’m biased, you’re damned right. But this is the thing: when I left here eighteen years ago, I never expected to come back, let alone be the town’s chief of police. Never thought in a million years I’d even like you people. And here I am, genuinely liking you—wanting to keep you safe. And I think I do a damn good job of it.”
He stopped looking at the council members and turned to face the audience. “Houston PD wants me back, wants to give me a promotion.”
The crowd booed and Rhys held up his hand. “But today, your mayor made me a very nice offer.” Rhys nodded at Dink. “He wants me to be your permanent chief. It’s where my little sister and brother want to be and it’s always been Shep’s home. Shep . . . Well, he needs this place now more than ever. But I’ll only stay if Maddy stays.”
He faced her and spoke as if they were the only two people in the room. “If you’ll have me and if what you said is true, I’ll stay. For you.”
Maddy wiped tears from her eyes. She didn’t know whether to wrap her arms around Rhys or to strangle him. What was he thinking blackmailing Nugget into voting in favor of the inn? Make no mistake about it; what he’d just done was extortion. This town loved Rhys Shepard.
The clapping of the audience filled her ears as her heart pounded. Nugget would be buzzing with Rhys’s grand gesture for days. Maddy had to get to him. She started to stand up, but Nate pulled her back down.
Dink cleared his throat. “If there are no more public comments, the council will get down to business.” He waited for any dawdlers, but no one had the nerve.
Maddy was so busy searching the hall for a glimpse of Rhys she almost missed the vote. It was four to one in their favor, Dottie being the single holdout.
“Remind me not to send her a Christmas card,” Nate said, hugging Maddy so hard she thought she might have a few busted ribs.
Maddy broke away. “I have to find Rhys,” she said.
“He went to the police station right after the vote,” Mariah said. “Meet us at the Ponderosa for drinks.”
She ran like the wind across the square, pulled open the door, and threw herself into Rhys’s arms. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I was late—got caught up in something.”
She smiled up at him. “Like a job offer.”
“Yeah,” he said and tilted his head to the side. “How ’bout you, you okay?”
“Are you kidding?” She started dancing around. “We got the inn, Rhys. We got it, and it’s all because of you. Until you said you’d stay for good they were on the fence—I could see it in their eyes.”
“Nah, Clay had them at ‘elect new ones.’ ”
“So you were just bluffing?”
“I wasn’t bluffing, Maddy.” He held her away from him. “Is that what you think?”
“What you said in there . . . Oh, Rhys.”
“I didn’t mean to come on too strong, scare you off. I know it’s too soon . . . Anyway, the whole thing’s moot now that the inn’s been okayed, right?”
She blinked back tears. He’d been bluffing at the hearing. Knowing that accepting the permanent police chief position would help her case, he’d thrown it out to hedge Maddy’s bet. “Did you mean what you said, or were you just forcing the city’s hand?”
“Now, why the hell would you ask something like that?” He pulled her inside his office and shut the door. “It’s just . . . awkward.”
“Why?”
Rhys’s shoulders sagged. “Because I told you I was leaving, then I did a complete one-eighty in front of the whole town. You ever been to a ball game where some douche bag proposes to his girlfriend on the scoreboard while the entire park waits with bated breath for her answer?” He didn’t let her reply. “I hate those guys. And tonight I was one of them. I shouldn’t have made a public display of my feelings for you, backed you into a corner like that, especially on the heels of you breaking up your marriage. It wasn’t right.”
“So, it wasn’t a bluff? You really meant that if I stayed, you would stay as chief?”
“Of course I meant it. I love you, Maddy. I’ve loved you since that first time we kissed on the porch. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Truth: It scares the shit out of me. But today I realized that living without you scares me a hell of a lot more.”
Maddy stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him, feeling happier than she’d ever felt in her whole life.
“I love you, too, Rhys Shepard,” she said. “And, in case you were wondering, my answer is yes.”
He frowned in confusion. “Yes to what?”
“Yes—I’ll have you. Don’t worry. I know you weren’t proposing. And you’re right, it’s too soon for that. But I want to be with you, Rhys.”
The next day Maddy looked at the Lumber Baron Inn in a totally new light. The sun glinted off the copper gutters as a crew of painters set up scaffolding around the exterior of the house. Soon—if the weather cooperated—the mansion would be bathed in buttery yellows, light greens, and crisp whites.
Before, it was just a dream, Maddy mused. Now, this labor of love, once the dilapidated mansion that brought her to Nugget, would open in summer. Really open. If all went well with the Stanford professor and his Donner Party documentary, Nugget would be flooded with tourists. At least that was her hope.
And she, with a lot of help from her friends, had made it happen. She snapped a few pictures with her phone for the before-and-after album, documenting the inn’s transformation.
“Hey, heard the hearing last night was a humdinger.” Colin came up next to her. He was a mysterious man, but Maddy had grown incredibly fond of him.
“Where were you?” she teased.
“I don’t do meetings,” he said. “You got a few minutes to pick out some baseboards for those attic rooms?”
“Actually, I’ve got an appointment. Can it wait?”
“Absolutely.�
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Rhys trotted up the walkway. “You ready to go?”
“Let me just go inside and get my purse.” She sprinted into the front parlor where she’d left the handbag next to a pile of upholstery swatches. Sawdust made her sneeze, the pounding of nail guns filled her head, and nothing had ever sounded better.
She raced outside. “I just have a quick errand.” And before Rhys could stop her, she dashed across the square and into the barber shop.
“You won the bet, Owen,” she announced to the Nugget Mafia. “Sophie and Mariah went with a local. By this time next year, Nugget could have a new baby.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Owen dragged his hands through his Brylcreemed hair. “Who they finally go with?”
“My brother.”
“He’s not a local,” Earl protested.
“He is now.” By the time she swaggered out, Owen was demanding that the rest of the mob pay up.
She jumped into Rhys’s truck and fifteen minutes later they drove up McCreedy Road.
“Just give me a hint,” Maddy pleaded.
“Nope. It’s a surprise. That’s Clay’s house,” Rhys pointed.
“Oh, it’s lovely,” she said. “I don’t know why, but for some reason I pictured a log cabin, not a sprawling farmhouse.”
“A log cabin?” Rhys laughed. “Where did you get that idea? See all that?” He waved at pastures on both sides of the road. “That’s McCreedy Ranch. In the summer Clay runs cattle on this land. Then he moves them south for winter.”
“Wow. I had no idea it was such a large operation.”
“I’ll take you over there sometime,” he said. “He’s got a whole menagerie—horses, milk cows, chickens.”
“So is Clay’s house the surprise?”
“No.” Rhys laughed. “The surprise is just up the road a piece.”
“The land here is so different from most of Nugget,” she said, staring out the passenger window. “Not so much forest as green rolling hills . . . kind of takes my breath away.”
Rhys hung a left at a birdhouse mailbox and took a brick driveway up to a picture-perfect Victorian. “This is it!”
“Oh, Rhys, it’s like a smaller version of the Lumber Baron.” She opened the truck door before he’d even come to a full stop. “And not so small.”
Maddy jumped out of the cab and ran up the porch stairs. While he fiddled with the lock, she peered inside the windows.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous. Hurry up, open the door.”
As soon as he unlocked it, she rushed in and started exploring. “Have you seen this kitchen?” she called out.
He came up behind her. “Yep.” Before he could say more, she was off to the next room.
After she inspected every inch of the main floor, she climbed the staircase to the second, and came bounding back down twenty minutes later. “Can I see the cottage?” She’d spied it from one of the upstairs windows along with spectacular views of the Sierra.
Rhys led her outside, down the walkway, and showed her the inside of the guesthouse. The property was stunning—vintage with so much character. She could see cows grazing in the distance and the Feather River running through a corner of the property.
“What is this place?” she asked.
He beamed liked a schoolboy divulging a secret. “It was built by one of the Donner Party survivors.”
She grabbed his arm. “Get out.”
“According to the original deed, Virginia Reed-Murphy and her husband John Marion Murphy built it as a summer home in the late nineteenth century.”
“Oh, my God!” She couldn’t believe it.
“What?”
“This is the house Virgil told me about! This is it . . . Virginia Reed.” She went up onto the porch, and this time scrutinized the Victorian like a historian.
“So what was Virginia’s deal?” Rhys asked.
Maddy found a comfortable spot on the veranda to sit and for the next thirty minutes gave Rhys Virgil’s historical account.
When she was finished, Rhys stood up and offered Maddy a hand. “That’s about the vilest story I’ve ever heard.”
She wiped the back of her skirt as she turned again to survey Virginia’s house.
“I bet this was her happy place,” she said to Rhys. “Walking through it, I got a really good vibe. You think she found peace here?”
“Maybe.” He grabbed her around the waist. “Do you like it?”
“Are you kidding? I love it. Who owns it?”
“I do,” he said. “Well, I will, as soon as I sign the papers.”
That nearly knocked her over. “Seriously? You own this? It’s a piece of history, Rhys.”
“I don’t think it’s exactly museum quality,” he said. “It’s been remodeled and added on to a dozen times. But I think it’ll make a pretty good home.”
They went inside the house to have another look around. Sunlight filled the rooms and the scent of lemon polish filled the air. It truly was a beautiful place, but more important it felt good. Safe. Like an old friend waiting to embrace them.
“It’s amazing, Rhys. When did you find it?” She still couldn’t believe this house belonged to him.
“Clay bought it in foreclosure. It comes with a bunch of land, so he can increase his herd. He’s selling me the house and a couple of acres. It’ll be good for the kids. Even when Lina goes to college, she’ll always have a place to come home to. Sam, too.”
“Oh, Rhys.” She reached up and kissed him. “What about Shep?”
Rhys took her hand and walked her out to the porch. “Actually, I was thinking of taking your advice of hiring an in-home caregiver for my dad and offering room and board. The cottage might make a good incentive for getting someone to come to Nugget.”
“How’s he doing, Rhys?”
“Getting worse.”
“How’re you doing with Shep getting worse?”
Rhys shrugged. “It is what it is.” Besides resignation, sadness tinged his voice. “Maybe under different circumstances we could’ve gotten to know each other. Started over. I think about all the good memories Clay has of Tip and I’d liked to have had some of my dad, too.”
“He did give you a wonderful family,” Maddy said. “You’ll always have Lina and Sam in your life. And they love you, Rhys.”
“Yeah, and I love them.” A smile lit his face. “And to think I almost tossed them away.” Rhys took Maddy’s hand. “You never know. Shep and I may still have time to make some memories.”
They sat on the porch steps for a while, just staring out into the open. “It’s so beautiful here,” Maddy said.
He turned her so he could look into her eyes. “I know it’s too soon. But when you’re ready, live with me here, Maddy. Help me make this house a home.”
She pulled him close, feeling shielded and safe and loved. The sun shone on the west side of the veranda, washing it in a gorgeous halo of light.
“We’ll put our rockers there,” she pointed.
“Yeah?” he said, thick emotion clogging his voice.
“And maybe one of those zero-infinity pools over there.”
He chuckled. “Not happening, sugar.” Gathering her up in his arms, he started for the house.
“Where are you taking me?”
His voice went low and husky as he carried her up the stairs. “On our official first date,” he said, his eyes glinting with happiness. “We’re gonna have lots of them, sugar.”
Dear Reader,
Thanks for reading Going Home, the first in my Nugget Series. This is my debut novel and I’m absolutely thrilled to share it with you.
The setting and the characters for the series came easily. I grew up in small towns. My parents, hippies from New York City, moved our family to California when I was just a little kid. For some crazy reason that my sister, brother, and I still can’t figure out, they got the farming bug. Weird for two people who grew up on concrete, taking the subway. But, then again, my dad was a Boy Scout and my mom lived above a pro
duce stand in the East Village. So maybe that explains it.
Anyway, the best part of my life was spent in the country, raising animals for 4-H, attending rodeos, and riding my horse, Sugar. Eventually, I moved to the big city for college and to be a newspaper reporter. Now every day I curse the traffic, the smog, and people who cut in line.
Luckily my aunt owns a cabin in the Sierra Nevada where my family goes to get away and inner-tube on the Feather River, ride our bikes on gorgeous mountain trails, and eat soft-serve at the neighborhood frosty. Incidentally, it’s not far from where the Donner Party got stranded in 1846.
Sound a lot like Nugget?
In the next Nugget book, I’ll be telling Clay McCreedy’s story and I hope you continue this journey with me. In the meantime, visit my website, www.stacyfinz.com, and follow me on Twitter @sfinz or@stacyfinz. I’d love to hear from you.
Enjoy!
Stacy Finz
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Stacy Finz’s next Nugget romance
FINDING HOPE
coming in January 2015 wherever e-books are sold!
Chapter 1
Emily gingerly wended her way around the moving boxes, each one labeled with bright red marker. Clutching a fistful of silverware, she managed to make it from the kitchen to the dining room without tripping over one of the cartons.
It was amazing how much stuff people accumulated over the years. Her cookbooks and kitchen equipment alone would take up most of a large U-Haul. At least Drew, her ex-husband, was taking the furniture, and the rest could be donated to the Goodwill. Where she was going, she wouldn’t need half the contents of this big house.
She did a quick appraisal of the table with its last-minute centerpiece—a bouquet of hydrangea cut from the backyard—and began setting her best Laguiole steak knives at each of the six place settings. The knives had languished in storage since the last lunch.
Emily knew that etiquette dictated that the sharp edge of the knife face the plate. To point the blade toward a guest was an ancient sign of aggression.