Provenance

by Carla Laureano

  Opa’s expression tightened. “Philip Burton always does what’s in Philip Burton’s best interest.”

  Kendall didn’t seem to catch the tension in the words, because she just nodded thoughtfully. “So maybe Gabe needs to convince Burton that this change of direction was his idea.”

  Gabe snorted. “That’s likely to happen.”

  “You never know. If you tell him the town is more concerned with affordable multifamily housing, and that’s the one thing the resort doesn’t address, you don’t think he’ll smell an opportunity? Men like him are territorial. If you bring in another developer or even hint at it, you might force his hand. He won’t want a stranger taking his business in his backyard.”

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea.” For someone who looked so sweet and innocent, she had a remarkably devious mind. Score another point for Kendall Green.

  “Thank you.” She turned back to her food with satisfaction, but Opa’s gaze remained fixed on Gabe.

  “What?” he said finally, then cleared his throat when his grandfather scowled. “Sorry. You wanted to say something?”

  Opa resumed wiping down the counters. Gabe had never pointed it out, but it was his tell when he was about to deliver news that his grandson wasn’t going to like. “I know someone you could call on that front. And I know he would be more than happy to help out.”

  Now Gabe didn’t even care if he was rude. He stared at his meal and stabbed the egg so hard that yolk bled across the plate. “That isn’t going to happen.”

  “Gabe—”

  He shook his head, and Opa dropped the subject, leaving Kendall to study him curiously. Thankfully, she didn’t ask what the unspoken conversation was about, though he suspected of all the people he’d met, she would most understand his feelings on the subject.

  The atmosphere in the bed-and-breakfast’s kitchen got uncomfortable fast, thanks to Gabe’s pronouncement, and Kendall scrambled to fill the silence with something, anything. She asked about the source of the meat on her plate, what Mr. Brandt enjoyed most about running a B and B, how long he’d lived in this house. Turned out that while he was one of the older residents of Jasper Lake, he was a relative newcomer to the town, having moved here with his wife only thirty years ago.

  “Greta, God rest her soul, always wanted to live in a big city. New York, San Francisco. Said it reminded her of Berlin, where her family was from. We did that for a while, and then she said it was my turn. So I picked here. In some ways, it reminds me of Bavaria, where I grew up.”

  “Did either of you ever consider going back to Germany?”

  “No.” His eyes took on a faraway look, the downward corners of his mouth hinting at unpleasant memories. “Greta’s family left Germany before the war. Mine was not so lucky, though luckier than some. By the hand of God alone, our Jewish roots were not discovered. Still . . .” He shook his head. “I know Greta felt isolated from her homeland, but she did not see what I saw: the destruction, the privation after the war. I could never go back.”

  Kendall listened in rapt attention. Maybe it was because she knew nothing of her own past, but she found other people’s stories fascinating. She was about to ask more questions when Gabe took their empty plates and moved them to the sink. “We need to get going, Opa. Kendall needs to file her paperwork at the courthouse this morning.”

  A surge of disappointment rose in Kendall, but she nodded. “We do, unfortunately. Thank you for the breakfast. It was delicious.”

  Mr. Brandt waved away her thanks. “It’s nothing. Here, take some scones with you.”

  “It’s only a half-hour drive, Opa. You’ve filled us up until dinnertime!”

  “Still.” He was already packing up leftover scones in a paper bag and digging out paper cups for the remnants of coffee in the large pot. Kendall expected Gabe to protest, but he didn’t say a word, just took the food and hugged his grandfather goodbye.

  He handed Kendall one of the cups when they stepped out onto the back porch. She half expected Fitz to bound toward them, but the dog merely raised his head from his perch on the patio furniture and looked at them hopefully. “Do you mind making a stop by my house first to drop this beast off?”

  “Does he not like car rides?”

  “Oh no, he loves them. Unfortunately, twisty roads don’t like him.”

  Kendall made a face. “In that case, no, I don’t mind dropping him at home. Is it far?”

  “Not at all. If you haven’t noticed, there’s not much in this town that’s far from anything else.” He whistled and Fitz slid off the sofa and trotted over, letting Gabe clip the leash to his collar without resistance. Once through the gate, the three of them fell into step on the sidewalk, Fitz happy to walk calmly beside them but for the occasional stop to sniff an interesting plant or post.

  “Why are the Lakeshore houses so far away from the rest of town?” Kendall asked. “Seems like it would have been difficult to get water and power and sewer out there.”

  “There were no utilities here at the time they were built,” Gabe said. “In fact, they were the only ones in town that actually had running water. You can still see the old gravity-fed water tanks up the hill behind them.”

  “Fascinating,” Kendall said. “But still, why build them so far away?”

  “That’s a good question. No one has any idea since the builder is unknown. One would think that we’d have records of it somewhere, but most of the town historical society’s records were lost in the flood, and I guess no one really felt the need to look it up before then. I would think it was a rich man who didn’t want to mingle with the rabble—remember, this was a mining town.”

  It was a reasonable guess. Whether it had been a mine owner building his own home and ones for his children or an early industrialist with visions of an elegant community in the mountains, her houses were certainly grander than anything else in Jasper Lake from that time period.

  Their walk transitioned from a sidewalk to a paved road to a dirt one, deep ruts grooved into the surface. Here the houses were placed scattershot, the road winding around them rather than the other way around. Gabe stopped in front of a small log cabin surrounded by a picket fence. “This is it.”

  Her eyebrows rose. This tiny, modest structure was the home of the town’s mayor? It looked more like a hunting cabin, even if it was clearly newer than the homes around it.

  Gabe caught her expression. “Not so impressed, huh? Let me put the dog inside and grab my car keys, and we can go.” He opened the gate and stood aside to let her through. She picked her way across the gravel path to the door, which was set into the side of the house without a porch or a landing to protect it. Gabe seemed surprised that she was following him inside, but he opened the door for her and followed her in.

  “It’s not much,” he said apologetically. “Give me just a minute . . .”

  He was right. It wasn’t much, but it was still better than she’d expected from the outside. The whole house seemed to be done in hand-scraped hardwood floors, their surface scarred by shoes and dog claws. His living room had some real furniture—a rather worn but handsome leather chesterfield sofa and what appeared to be a hand-knotted Persian rug. She probably wouldn’t have chosen the imitation Tiffany lamp on the rustic side table, but it was far better than the horrendous glass-and-brass constructions she’d found in a lot of bachelor pads. All in all . . . not bad for a single man who wasn’t a designer. Gabe Brandt actually had a bit of taste.

  Smiling to herself, she moved to the corner of the room where a compact electronic drum set stood. She picked up one of the wooden sticks and gave a mesh head a thump. It bounced back with hardly a sound. “You play?”

  “Do I play?” he repeated and then poked his head out of what she assumed was the kitchen. “Oh, the drums. A little. Just for fun.”

  Kendall cocked her head and studied him. She guessed she could see that. He did kind of have a drummer vibe, at least more than any other type of musician. “Everyone needs a hobby, hu
h?”

  He disappeared again, his voice echoing a little from the other room. “Something like that. Speaking of which, what’s yours?”

  “I—” She stopped. “I don’t have one, I guess.” Once, it had been design, but now that she did it for a living, nothing had slipped in to replace it. She moved toward the kitchen and then stopped. “Oh, my.”

  It was a time-capsule kitchen from the eighties, with chipped ceramic-tile countertops and a backsplash that alternated dark-green glazed Mexican tiles with hand-painted white tiles—each featuring a different mountain animal. The cabinets were typical builder’s grade, which the homeowner had attempted to make look rustic by putting on bronze pulls shaped like twigs. It was . . .

  “Horrible, isn’t it?” Gabriel caught her expression and surveyed the kitchen with a bemused expression. “I mean, it could always be worse, but . . .”

  “Not much worse,” Kendall finished for him. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say these weren’t your design choices.”

  He chuckled. “Hardly. The place is a rental. One of the only ones around here with a fenced yard, in fact. Some of the furniture is mine, and some of it was here. That gaudy lamp out in the living room, for example.”

  “Sofa and rug?”

  “Mine.” He studied her amusedly. “You’re judging me by my furniture choices, aren’t you?”

  “I absolutely am. But I’m happy to say you passed. The rug especially is beautiful.”

  “One of the only things I packed up and brought with me from Michigan. I rented a pretty little Craftsman, but I wasn’t there long enough to really put down roots. Or buy real furniture.” He put down the water bowl in what looked like a hastily handmade stand and then straightened. “If I thought I was going to stay here long term, I’d have you decorate the place.”

  She flashed him a coy smile. “You probably can’t afford me.”

  “Probably not.” He gave Fitz one last pat and nodded toward the living room. “Ready to go?”

  She followed him out, but she waited until they were both buckled into his truck before she asked the questions on her mind. “How long have you been back in Jasper Lake anyway? And why do you say you’re not going to stay here long term?”

  He put the truck in reverse and backed out of his driveway onto the street, glancing at her before he shifted into drive. “I’ve been here over a year. It was never meant to be permanent.”

  “But you’re the town mayor.”

  “For the time being. I’m just . . . trying to get Jasper Lake on the right track before I go.”

  “I don’t understand. Why put all the work into the town if it’s not even your town?”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t my town. I just said that I never meant moving back to be permanent.”

  Either he was being purposely evasive or she didn’t get Gabe Brandt at all. “I don’t understand.”

  He glanced at her again. “This will always be my town. It saved me. But let’s face it, it’s not like there’s a lot of work for an urban planner in this tiny mountain town.”

  “I don’t know—it sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you here, especially if you can block the development and move in a different direction.”

  “Yeah, but what then? I’m thirty-two. So I spend five years here getting zoning straightened out and some sort of city plan on the books . . . and then I’m thirty-seven moving to another new city?”

  He had a point. It felt like once you hit your late thirties, your direction in life was set, and good luck trying to deviate from it. It was part of the reason why she didn’t want to make any big changes now. Her business was established. She and Sophie had an arrangement that worked for them, a beautiful home that acted as their showroom and design lab, and plenty of clients who knew exactly where to find them. Were they to uproot their business and move to someplace more affordable, like West Covina or Rosemead, not only would they suffer from the lack of proximity to their clientele, but it would look like they weren’t doing well . . . and by extension, like they were incompetent designers.

  Unfortunately, fake it till you make it applied to most careers.

  “In any case, it seems very altruistic of you.”

  “Actually, it’s pretty selfish.” He threw her a rueful glance. “All my life, I knew that if things went wrong, I would have someplace to come back to. It was a safety net of sorts. And I was right. Jasper Lake was here when I needed it, just as it had always been, and I want to make sure it stays that way.”

  And that right there was the difference between Gabe and Kendall. He had a safety net, someplace to go back to. She had . . . the present. Only what she had made for herself, what she had scraped together with hard work and gumption. He might not want the town to change, but she had no such luxury. She had to do what was necessary to survive.

  Still, she wasn’t entirely unsympathetic. Had she grown up in a single place with any kind of meaning to her, she might feel the same way. For his sake, she hoped that they’d be able to make their interests align. Because as much as she was starting to like him, if she had to choose between his life in Jasper Lake and her life in Pasadena, it would be an easy decision. If there was one thing that being a foster kid taught you, it was to rely on yourself.

  Gabe seemed unaware of the thought that now hung between them, but to her it was as impenetrable as a brick wall. She couldn’t help but think that his confidence in her—or his hopes at least—was misplaced. It was unkind to let him believe otherwise.

  Fortunately, the drive to Georgetown was short, and they were soon parked in front of the county courthouse. Kendall grabbed her handbag and steeled herself for the maze of bureaucracy she was about to encounter.

  “Do you want me to come in with you?” Gabe asked.

  “No, I’ll be okay. As long as you’re fine with waiting. I don’t know how long it’s going to take.”

  Her expectation: at least two hours. Reality? Less than ten minutes.

  She had to ask for directions to which window to file at, then waited for one person in front of her to be finished. She handed over the paperwork; the clerk stamped it received and then gave her a receipt for her filing. “That’s it?” she asked.

  “That’s it.”

  Kendall walked back out and climbed into the truck in a daze. Somehow it should be harder to make a claim on an estate that was worth over a million dollars. Not just dropping off a form and paying a nominal fee. “That was easy.”

  “I figured it would be. It’s not Denver.”

  “I can see that.” She glanced at him. “What now?”

  “We can eat our scones and walk around town a bit, if you like. Or we can head back to Jasper Lake. Completely up to you.”

  The memory of the work awaiting her snapped her focus back to her objective. “Back to Jasper Lake, I think. I want to get started on my inventory today.”

  He nodded and put the truck in reverse without a hitch. “Back home it is. I probably ought to spend a little time in my office this afternoon anyway.”

  Judging from his easy acquiescence, he wasn’t disappointed with her choice. But for some inexplicable reason, she thought she might be.

  Chapter Eleven

  GABE DROPPED KENDALL back in front of the B and B, where her rental vehicle was parked, which she climbed right into without going inside the house. Gabe waited in his idling truck, feeling like he should have seen her to her car, but it wasn’t like this had been a date. Even the thought that he should be acting like it was a date showed how very long it had been since he’d had one.

  Kendall gave a cheerful wave once she was settled inside the vehicle, a clear dismissal, so he flipped a U-turn and continued back into town. With the temperature finally rising above forty degrees, there were more people out and about, though in a town this small, they were mostly people heading into their stores for the day. During the winter, many shops didn’t open until ten, and half the time they didn’t open at all. The fac
t that so many were still keeping regular business hours in the middle of October showed a surprising degree of optimism. Optimism that he desperately needed to catch. What he and Kendall had brainstormed this morning was no panacea for what ailed the town, but it did at least offer them a fighting chance.

  Gabe poked his head into the town clerk’s office and waved to Elizabeth, the older lady who had been the town’s administrative backbone for longer than he’d been alive, then proceeded to his own office, where Linda was already seated at her desk, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Between the name and her professional demeanor on the phone, most people were surprised to find she was actually younger than he was. Or they would be surprised if everyone hadn’t known Linda her whole life.

  She glanced up when he walked in and pulled one of her earbuds out of her ear. “Good morning, Gabe.”

  “Morning. How’s your daughter? Recovered from her flu, I hope?”

  “Oh, you mean the math flu?” She arched an eyebrow. “The kind that comes on suddenly when you haven’t studied for a test?”

  “Ouch.” Gabriel winced. Linda’s ten-year-old daughter, Cecily, was adorable and charming and had never met a situation she couldn’t talk her way out of. Apparently she’d graduated to faking illnesses at school, which did not exactly endear her to her mother when the elementary school was twenty-five minutes away. “How much trouble is she in?”

  “Let’s just say that my yard will be completely leaf-free by this evening.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “You don’t have a yard. You live in a condo.”

  Now a hint of mirth sparked in her eyes. “Exactly. The condo association should send me a Christmas card for doing their landscaping work for them.”

  Gabe grinned and high-fived her as he passed into his office. There was no mistaking the spine of steel in his assistant, something he suspected came from becoming a single mother at the age of eighteen. She’d had to fight and scrabble to make a life for herself and Cecily, and he was impressed by how well she had done it. Of course, that made him think of Caroline Green and her disappearance from Jasper Lake at that same age. To hear his grandmother talk, Caroline and Linda had been cut from the same cloth. What could have happened to make her abandon Kendall only four years later?