“Nope,” Rebecca said. “The pheromones are just all over the place tonight.”
Kendall felt heat touch her cheeks, but she laughed anyway and gestured for Delia to pass her plate. The coffee shop owner bumped her shoulder in a show of solidarity, and Kendall felt a real glow of warmth in response. She hardly knew these women, but they were clearly rooting for her happiness. And for the first time in a long time, she could imagine what it would be like to have friends.
Chapter Nineteen
CONSIDERING HOW MUCH GABE struggled to keep his mind on his drumming for the rest of the evening, it was good that they’d started with the most demanding songs. He could sustain a simple rock beat without really thinking about it—a lifesaver given his eyes’ temptation to constantly drift to the corner table where Kendall sat with her new group of friends. He could see them chatting beneath the music, or at least the other women were. Every time his eyes landed on Kendall, she was watching him.
Which did pretty much nothing for his concentration.
When he totally zoned out, missed a fill, and fumbled the transition to the chorus on the next song, causing Luke to turn and fix him with a pointed stare, he yanked his head back into the game and finished out the set without another mistake. By the way he was acting, you’d think he was a lovesick high schooler, distracted by his crush in the front row. Which couldn’t be further from the truth.
She was in the back booth.
He grinned at the thought and dropped his sticks into his bag, then began to tear down his kit while his fellow band members did the same with their amps, mike stands, and cabling. Luke stopped in front of him while he was disassembling his hi-hat. “I would ask what that was all about, but it’s not too hard to figure out.”
“Sorry, man. I got distracted.” Gabe glanced over to the back table, where the ladies were standing and gathering their coats. He’d given Kendall the option to bail without judgment, but she’d stayed. Was she waiting for him?
“Yeah, I’d say so.” Luke nudged Gabe with his elbow and turned to return his guitar to its hard case, shaking his head and muttering about women the whole time. Right. Because he didn’t enjoy having women of all ages hanging off him when he played. Not that Luke ever followed through on any of the flirting, for reasons that Gabe could only guess. Guys didn’t talk about that kind of thing like girls did. Well, girls other than Kendall. He’d be willing to bet that in the two hours she’d been sitting with Delia and her friends, they’d probably only gotten the barest biographical information out of her.
He was just getting the final piece—the bass drum—zipped up in its canvas cover when a voice came behind him. “Hey.”
He whipped his head around to find Kendall standing there, her hands tucked in her coat’s pockets. “Hi. You stayed.”
“Thought you could walk me home, but I forgot about your equipment.” She nodded to the stack of canvas-encased drums. “All earlier jokes aside, you were really good tonight. Except for that one hiccup.”
“You noticed that, huh?”
Kendall grinned. “It’s okay. Keeps you humble. Makes you seem like a real person and not a rock god.”
Gabe laughed. “I may be many things, but a rock god is not one of them.”
“Tell that to your admirers. I didn’t think there were so many single women in this town, but it looks like every one of them turned out tonight.”
Gabe was about to tell her that had nothing to do with him, but she was already backing away, about to make her exit. He called after her. “It’s gotten really cold outside. If you can stick around for a few minutes, I’ll drop you at the B and B on my way home.”
“Don’t go to any trouble. It’s only a couple of blocks.”
“It’s below freezing out there. It’s no trouble.”
Kendall looked like she was wavering, but her California blood won out and she gave a single nod. “I’ll go wait over there, then.”
Gabe finished as quickly as he could, then began taking the drums out to his pickup truck, which was fortunately parked just across the street. When he finished with the last one and searched the room, Kendall was engaged in an animated conversation with Luke at the back of the cantina.
Luke waved him over. “Gabe! Kendall was just telling me you hadn’t invited her to the bonfire yet.”
Kendall turned as well, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Some mayor you are. I had to hear about it from Bruce.”
The bonfire. Right. He’d been so focused on other things, he hadn’t even thought about it. They’d started planning for the Pumpkin Festival so long ago, it felt like something that had been over and done with for months rather than still out before him. “You’re right. I am shirking my duties. Good thing I have Welcome Wagon Luke to fill in for me.”
Luke sent him a murderous glance at the nickname some of the ladies in town had given him, then switched to a smile for Kendall. “And on that note, I will take my leave. Hope to see you two there tomorrow.”
Now it was Gabe’s turn to shoot a look at Luke for his obvious assumptions, but his friend grinned back in a way that said it had been purposeful. Gabe turned to Kendall instead. “Ready to go?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
The cab of Gabe’s truck was nearly as cold as the outside air, so as soon as he started it up with a reluctant rumble, he flipped the heater to high. “Looks like there’s some snow in the forecast for Sunday morning.”
“Really?” Kendall sounded as if she wasn’t sure whether to be excited or apprehensive.
“You grew up in Colorado, so it’s probably not a big deal to you . . .”
“I haven’t been here in a lot of years. If I’m honest, it’s maybe the one thing that I miss about my childhood.”
Gabe backed out of the parking spot and then turned the truck toward his grandfather’s B and B. He knew he shouldn’t pry, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Was it really that terrible? I’m not judging; I just want to know.”
Kendall stayed quiet for a long moment. “It wasn’t terrible. Not at the end. I was actually pretty lucky that my last foster parents were great people. But they weren’t my blood, you know? And I’m not sure that’s something you ever fully get over. It’s one thing if your parents die, like in a car accident or something. It’s out of their control. They would never have chosen to leave. But in my case, it seems like neither my dad or my mom wanted me, so . . .” She shrugged, her voice trailing off into the silence.
Gabe dared another glance at her, half-expecting to see tears sliding down her face, but she was completely dry-eyed. Matter-of-fact, even. As if that was a conclusion she’d come to long ago and it had become such a part of her that she never questioned it.
“I’m not sure that’s true,” he said finally. “People make bad decisions when they’re desperate or afraid. But I doubt it was because they didn’t want you. You know, it was the nineties. She could have had an abortion had that been true.”
“Not wanting to kill her baby is different than wanting to raise it,” Kendall said flatly, and there was nothing Gabe could say to argue with that. His own father could have pushed for an abortion to keep his affair a secret, but he didn’t. Instead he just chose to deny his paternity. Gabe couldn’t say that had made him feel any more wanted.
He was about to apologize for prying when Kendall changed the subject. “So. This bonfire festival thing tomorrow . . .”
“Yes?”
She glanced at him, a smile playing over her lips. “Were you going to invite me to go with you or what?”
Gabe chuckled, though part of him was thrown by her lightning-fast change of mood. “Would you like to go with me?”
Now it turned into a full-fledged smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“I’ve got some things I need to do first to get ready, but I can come by and pick you up at six . . .”
“No need. I’ll meet you there. I’m going to go to the house tomorrow and get a few more things done. In a town this small, you shouldn’t be to
o hard to find.”
They’d arrived at the B and B, so Gabe pulled up to the curb and, because it was so late, immediately turned off the engine. Silence fell around them. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Dress warm . . .”
“I will. See you later.” She reached for the door handle, and the glint of the streetlight caught the stone in a ring on her right hand, one he was sure he hadn’t seen in the days he’d spent with her. But before he could get more than a brief glimpse, she was out of the truck and on her way up the sidewalk.
And not for the first time, he had the feeling that no matter how much time he spent around Kendall, he was never going to know what she was actually thinking.
Kendall slept deeply and awoke the next morning, disoriented once more. It took several seconds for her to realize she wasn’t lying in her bed back in Pasadena but in a rented room in the high country of Colorado. She rolled over and checked the digital clock, which showed nine. She frowned at the dim light filtering through the window. Every day this week, she’d been blinded by sunshine before eight. She pushed back the covers and padded to the bay window, where she drew back the curtains. She was greeted by a steel-gray sky and patches of fog clinging to the trees. She was about to back away when she blinked and went for a closer look. Was that snow?
A smile spread across her lips. Snow. She might have played it cool last night when Gabe mentioned the forecast, but her inner five-year-old had been practically giddy. Ten years in California had apparently made her appreciate what she no longer had, even if she didn’t exactly miss the cold.
For a wild moment, she thought about rustling up a sled or a trash can lid, but her pragmatism just as quickly shut that idea down. It wasn’t snow snow yet, just a few bare flakes drifting from the sky. And based on experience, she knew that these kinds of clouds rarely produced significant accumulation, certainly not enough to sled on. Besides, she needed to get out to the house and go through those boxes of paperwork. She’d considered bringing them back to the B and B, but most of them were probably related to the house and she’d just have to return them. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted the past to invade the pleasant cocoon the B and B had become.
She debated getting ready for the bonfire now, but surely she’d be back in time to put on some makeup and curl her hair. Instead, she braided her hair into one long plait down her back, washed her face, and began to layer on clothing that would keep her warm in the frigid house. Fortunately, she’d picked up a pair of thermals before she left, so she slipped on the merino base layers beneath her jeans and the fuzzy ivory sweater from the other day. Over that went her puffy jacket and a scarf, then a pair of warm wool socks and boots. She glanced at herself in the mirror and started laughing. She looked like she was ready to brave the Arctic rather than a few pathetic snowflakes.
She was on her way out the door before she changed her mind and poked her head into the kitchen. Mr. Brandt was there, kneading a huge lump of dough on the floured surface of his marble countertop. He looked up in surprise at Kendall’s appearance. “Good morning. Did you want breakfast? I assumed . . .”
Kendall shook her head. “No thank you. I’ll pick up coffee in town. I was just wondering if you had a lantern I could borrow. I’m headed over to the house today, and it’s pretty dark outside. It’ll be hard to sort through paperwork without electricity.”
“I’m sure I have something,” Mr. Brandt said. “Give me just a minute to finish this knead and I’ll go look for you.” He gestured across the counter with a floury hand. “You can have a seat if you like.”
Kendall perched on the edge of the stool and watched as the innkeeper divided the dough into uniform portions with a bench scraper, then formed them into smooth, grapefruit-size balls. “What kind of bread are you making?”
“Challah. Makes great French toast.”
“Mmm. My favorite,” Kendall said, her stomach rumbling in response. “You know, your baked goods go pretty fast at Main Street Mocha. If you go in at the end of the day, the case is usually empty.”
Mr. Brandt looked pleased at the comment. “How’s it going over at the house?”
“Pretty good. Gabe has been a big help in finishing the inventory.”
“Has he now?”
Kendall couldn’t tell if he was surprised, displeased, or just making conversation, so she moved on. “He has. All that’s left is a bunch of paperwork.”
“I would imagine you’ll find some of the things you need for the houses, the deed and such.”
Now that comment was definitely leading. Kendall seized her opportunity. “Gabe said Connie and your wife were close. Did you know her well?”
Mr. Brandt began transferring the dough to separate baking sheets and covered each with a thin cloth. “Not as well as Greta. Connie was a private person. Don’t get me wrong; she was outgoing, and she served her community. But as to what was actually going on in her head? It was always hard to tell.”
Kendall deflated. It seemed like no one could give her any insight into her grandmother. If Gabe and his grandmother had spent so much time at the Lakeshore house and the family couldn’t tell her anything, what were the chances she’d ever uncover the truth?
“Of course, you really couldn’t blame her for being private after what happened.”
Kendall’s attention piqued. “Oh? What do you mean?”
“Her husband. It was a huge scandal. Even now it feels wrong to talk about it.”
So this wasn’t about her mother after all. It was still information, though. “I’m family. I probably should know.”
Mr. Brandt swiveled away and put one baking sheet after another into his oven on separate racks. “Her husband left her.”
That didn’t sound too scandalous. Sad, yes, but things like that happened all the time.
“For a man.”
Okay. That wasn’t so common. Kendall was sure her eyebrows had climbed to her hairline. “What happened?”
“He moved out. Moved down to Boulder, if I recall. With the boyfriend.” Mr. Brandt shrugged. “You have to remember this was nearly forty years ago. Everyone knew people were gay, but it was somewhat shocking to find that the man she’d had a child with, had lived with for almost a decade, was not who she though he was.”
“As it would be for anyone now,” Kendall pointed out.
“Well, I suppose that’s true, but people are far more accepting now. Or at least they’re not as surprised. Anyway, the town rallied around her and Carrie. The men helped Connie with things around the house that Jon used to do for her.” Mr. Brandt paused and shook his head. “She and Carrie were so close. Two peas in a pod. They were rarely separated except when Carrie was in school.”
This didn’t fit the picture she’d formed of her mother’s homelife. “Until my mother got pregnant, that is.”
“That was shocking, yes, and not what Connie wanted for her daughter, but she stood behind Carrie’s decision to keep the baby. To keep you.”
“So why did she throw her out?”
“She didn’t.” Mr. Brandt frowned. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Kendall searched her memory and found she couldn’t come up with any specific incident. “I don’t know. Why did she leave, then?”
Mr. Brandt wiped his hands and slid onto the stool beside Kendall. “I have no idea. And more importantly, neither did your grandmother. She was heartbroken. She called the police, but your mother was eighteen, so she didn’t count as a runaway. She had just ‘moved away.’ Connie didn’t know if she was alive or dead . . . You know how mothers can worry.”
Kendall was tempted to say she didn’t know, but it wasn’t true. The one time she’d tried to run away from the Novaks’ house, they’d found her at a local park with all her things in her backpack. Rather than shouting at her for her ingratitude, her foster mother had dropped to her knees and thrown her arms around Kendall while she sobbed with relief. It was the last time Kendall had ever run away.
“And then one year Connie go
t a Christmas card with a picture of you.” Mr. Brandt thought. “You must have been three. So that would have been, what, 1994?”
“Ninety-five,” Kendall whispered. “But she never heard anything else?”
“Not that I know of. Not then at least.” Mr. Brandt laid a comforting hand on Kendall’s shoulder. “Why don’t I go look for that lantern?”
“Thanks,” Kendall said, but inside, her mind was spinning. What if her grandmother had kept the card? What if there was some clue to where her mother had gone in the paperwork at the house?
Mr. Brandt came back from the pantry a minute later, holding a chunky plastic lantern with LED bulbs. “I keep this for power outages. It should give you enough light to work by.”
Kendall took it from him. “I appreciate it.”
“Anytime. Coming to the bonfire tonight?”
“If it doesn’t snow, yes.”
Mr. Brandt craned his head to peer out the window. “Doesn’t look like it’s going to amount to much. Just a dusting.”
Kendall smiled. Back home, they thought it was fall when the temperatures dipped below the eighties and a few of the trees started to change colors. It wasn’t unusual for trick-or-treaters to swelter in their costumes on a one-hundred-degree Halloween. If Jasper Lake considered snowflakes a fall feature, Christmas must not be complete without full snowdrifts.
She drove to town but didn’t linger any longer than it took to get her daily drink at Main Street Mocha—this time, the signature Latin Mocha, a dark chocolate coffee concoction with hints of cinnamon and a hefty kick from cayenne and chipotle pepper. She loaded her drink and scone back into her rental SUV and started the drive around the lake, anticipation building in her chest. Maybe the boxes of paperwork would hold the hints to her past that she’d been looking for.
Chapter Twenty
THREE HOURS LATER, Kendall’s optimism was beginning to flag. The banker’s boxes had looked so small when she took them down and stacked them in the corner of the master bedroom. They hadn’t even looked daunting when she flipped the lid open on the first. But that was before she realized that her grandmother had kept every single receipt for every single thing she’d purchased. It didn’t help that Kendall found herself getting sucked into the things she found, especially when they related to the furnishings in the house. There were receipts from antique dealers for some of the older pieces, like the Craftsman cabinet and the Eames lounge chair, which turned out to be an original issue from 1956—the kind of provenance that would increase their value significantly. Others were far less interesting: triple-paned windows in 2005, repairs to the hardwood floors in the upstairs bathroom, a new furnace just ten years ago.
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