But he had a sinking suspicion that if she went straight back to California into her own life, she’d also go back to her comfort zone of an indifferent God, albeit with a slightly improved sense of self from the revelations of Jasper Lake. Away from him, away from her past, away from the truth.
It all came back to the story of who she was and why Carrie had never made it back to Jasper Lake. He had to help her find out the truth, for both their sakes.
Chapter Twenty-Three
IN MOVIES, when two people were stranded in an old house together in a snowstorm, either they had sex or they emerged with an unshakable bond. Or they were the victims of a ghost or serial killer, but Kendall wasn’t fond of horror movies, so she chose not to count that as an option.
In this case, as if she needed more reminders that her life was not a movie, none of those things had happened. They were still alive, their relationship was still limited to some light making out . . . and most disconcerting, things between them seemed more awkward than ever.
It wasn’t that her feelings had changed from last night. Kendall still liked Gabe—more than ever, in fact. Part of her had wondered if the nice guy act was just that—an act—but he seemed genuinely that kind. And if the short religious conversation they’d had was any indication, it stemmed from a sincere faith in God. Maybe she couldn’t understand that, but she could respect it. The fact he’d looked so pained when she’d talked about her experiences with her foster parents, his concern that she thought all Christians were hypocrites, seemed to show it came from a deep place. She respected people who stuck to their convictions, especially when it came to relationships.
But the kiss, the feelings, none of that changed the fact she was only here for a short time. Wanting to save the house—just this house, not the others—didn’t make any difference in whether or not she would stay. Her livelihood was in California. Her life was in California. But maybe, just maybe, she could do something that would make a difference to Gabe after she left.
What she had not told Gabe, what had occurred to her when she glanced at her phone this morning and saw a text from Sophie about the Woolridge House, was the one thing that could save these homes from destruction.
Designation as a historical landmark.
There was no doubt in her mind that these houses were created by a trained architect with a specific artistic vision. Each of the homes was slightly different, Connie’s being more elaborate than the others, but they all displayed a Victorian sensibility for details over a practical architectural style. The whole effect was far more European than American, William Morris versus Frank Lloyd Wright. And yet she was sure these houses weren’t from either of those schools.
Which was why she’d texted Sophie to overnight all her Craftsman and Arts and Crafts books and catalogs to Jasper Lake. Kendall couldn’t remember whether that was a backpack full or a truckload, but from the string of shocked emojis, followed by ten of the poop symbol, she suspected it was closer to the latter.
“Kendall? Did I lose you?”
Gabe was studying her face, and she realized she had completely zoned out. She gave an embarrassed little laugh. “Sorry. I’m still sleepy. And I was thinking about the house. I don’t suppose you know anyone who could help us cut a hole in the ceiling, do you?”
“I could probably find someone.”
Kendall narrowed her eyes at Gabe. “We need someone who can cut a neat square in the drywall and then patch it back up. Not someone who’s going to bust it up with a sledgehammer.”
Gabe laughed. “Then that leaves out Luke. Seriously, though, I know some contractors in town who could help us.”
“For how much?”
“For the chance to stick it to Phil Burton? Free.”
Kendall smiled. The small-town thing was starting to pay off. “Good. And tell them to bring a ladder. If I’m right, we’re going to need a way to get up there and look around.”
“Exactly when are you thinking about performing this little bit of surgery?”
She blinked. “Today.”
“Church is about to let out and then everyone heads to lunch. Earliest I’ll be able to get someone out here is tomorrow.”
Kendall didn’t truly believe that every single person in town went to church, but she didn’t argue. Probably any friend of Gabe’s who would help for free was the churchgoing type. Besides, she was feeling cold and grimy, and the only thing she really wanted to do right now was take a long, hot bath and brush her teeth . . . twice. She’d never thought of herself as particularly high-maintenance, but she’d never been without running water or heat for twenty-four hours either.
Finally, when both their mugs were empty, Gabe pushed back from the table. “Ready to go? I’ll take the pots and dishes and wash them at home. Don’t want to risk critters.”
“I am more than ready to go,” Kendall said. “I’ll just go get my stuff.” She handed over her mug and then took the stairs two at a time to the bedroom, where the mussed bed and the spilled contents of her handbag were the only evidence of their sleepover. She dumped the items into her bag, straightened the bedspread, and then rolled up the sleeping bag and stuffed it back in its sack. She lingered for a long moment over the stack of letters on the nightstand, scanning the old photo as if it still had more secrets to impart, then tucked everything carefully away into one of the pockets of her bag. All the while ignoring the one nagging fact that she couldn’t reconcile. Gabe had smiled, but he hadn’t reached for her. Hadn’t kissed her. Hadn’t given any indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened between them, besides her epic meltdown.
There was no doubt that he’d been into that kiss last night, but he’d been awfully determined not to let it go any further. What if his reaction hadn’t had anything to do with the propriety of the situation? What if he actually wasn’t interested, and given all the emotional upheaval of this week, he hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings?
She blinked away the pang of disappointment, refusing to acknowledge it ran deeper. She’d been here for less than a week. There was nothing here that she couldn’t turn her back on when she went. But for Gabe, this was home. Saving the town was his greatest goal. And if she knew what was best for both of them, she would focus on that instead of whatever kind of feelings his presence seemed to summon in her.
Kendall grabbed her purse, the sleeping bag, and one of the banker’s boxes, and descended the stairs to the first floor, where she dropped her load before returning for the other two boxes. The rumble of Gabe’s truck outside told her he’d gone to warm it up. He still had her house keys, so she laced up her boots and waited for him to reappear at the front door.
When the door opened, he stayed on the stoop, blowing into his cupped hands. “Ready?”
“Ready. Can you help me with these boxes while I lock up?”
“Of course.” He fished the keys out of his pocket and traded them for the file boxes while she locked the dead bolt behind them. Cold air seared her lungs, but she took a deep breath anyway, relishing the fresh, pine-scented air. She carefully picked her way down the front steps onto the walkway and turned a half circle, taking in her surroundings. It looked like a painting or a movie, the shapes of the houses and bushes indistinct under mounds of snow, the lake beyond an inky dark blue against the blanket of white that crept to the water’s edge. Even for someone who regularly saw the Pacific Ocean, it was the most breathtaking view she’d witnessed in years.
Gabe slowly moved to her side. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? The highway won’t be so nice once it’s plowed and the ice melt is laid down, but this side of the lake always stays pristine.”
“Do you come over here often?”
“To fish and kayak, sometimes. There’s a footpath that goes between here and town. It’s a couple of miles through dense forest, but if you don’t mind packing your gear in, it’s a beautiful walk.” He flashed her a quick smile. “I wouldn’t recommend it in the snow, though.”
“I’ll have
to try that sometime,” Kendall said, only remembering once the words left her mouth that she wouldn’t be here when the snow melted. For a brief moment, she daydreamed about sitting in the library next to a roaring wood fire while white flakes sifted down outside the window like the view from inside a snow globe.
But that was impossible. Besides, she was getting swept away in a romantic daydream of what a snowy winter would be like. Based on the numbness that was creeping into her toes, even inside her insulated boots, she figured she would be over the whole thing in a month, tops.
“So what do you think? Get back to town?”
Kendall flushed at once more being caught in her daydreaming. “I think that’s a great idea. You’re sure we’re safe to drive?”
“Absolutely.” He led the way through the knee-deep snow to the side of his truck, where he opened the passenger door for her before trudging around to the other side.
Kendall gripped the overhead handle for dear life when they took off, but she managed not to gasp when the truck fishtailed through its U-turn.
“Okay?” he said, glancing at her.
“Fine. Don’t mind me. I never really had to drive until I moved to California, and we panic at the first sign of raindrops.”
Gabe chuckled. “If it makes you feel better, there are still some people in town who grumble every time there’s snow in the forecast. I can’t completely blame them. It does make daily chores a little more difficult, especially the commute. They’d never survive someplace like Minnesota.”
“I’d never survive someplace like Minnesota.” She stared out the window as they slowly rejoined the highway, a spray of snow kicking off the truck’s massive tires. “Do you know how to trace a genealogy?”
“Uh, that’s a change in subject. Not really, unless you call logging in to one of those online databases tracing a genealogy. Where did that come from?”
Kendall shifted on her seat to face him. “I was thinking about the people who originally moved to this area to seek their fortunes and how hard the winters would have been. So then I started thinking that the builder of the houses was probably a newcomer. There is a mention of a J. Green in the tax rolls from the end of the nineteenth century.”
“So you thought that maybe you could trace your family line back to this J. Green and discover who the architect might have been. It’s a good idea, but wouldn’t it be easier just to google ‘J. Green architect’?”
She shot him a reproving look. “I’ve already done that. Nothing came up. There doesn’t seem to be a record of any such person, at least not any of the books or databases I searched. I even searched the county library’s online catalogs thinking they might have some local history books, and nothing.”
“Hence the attic.”
“Hence the attic. We better pray that the Big Guy in the sky is smiling down on us when we cut a hole in that ceiling. Because if there’s nothing in the attic about my grandmother’s house, we’re out of options.”
Now that she’d invested herself in saving these houses and their connection to her history, she felt sick at that possibility, even though it was the most likely outcome. After all, it stood to reason that the attic had been emptied before it was closed off. What if she never knew what had happened to her mother or who had built the house? Was she destined to remain ignorant of the town’s connections to her past?
“Hey.” Gabe glanced her way and reached for her hand, wrapping his cool, strong fingers around hers. “Don’t give up. We’ve still got options. Including some we haven’t thought of yet.”
Kendall’s gaze drifted down to their linked hands, and her heart gave a little kick. Surely he couldn’t do that and feel nothing, not remember how well they’d fit together, how natural their kiss had been, completely devoid of the usual first-kiss awkwardness. That had to mean something, didn’t it?
He didn’t immediately pull his hand away, but then he put on his blinker to make the turn off the highway to the Jasper Lake access road and needed two hands to navigate the truck through the huge snowbank left by the county’s snowplow. Kendall took advantage of the truck’s jostling to thrust her hand back into her pocket and grip the grab handle tighter. She didn’t want to know if he would reach for her again when he could steer with one hand.
Before she’d kissed him last night, her conclusions had seemed so simple. But now she realized that she couldn’t have complicated things more effectively had she tried.
Chapter Twenty-Four
AS SOON AS GABE PULLED UP to the curb of the B and B, Kendall reached for the door. “Thanks again,” she said. “You really saved me last night. Let me know about the contractor friend?” And then before he could respond, she wrenched the door open and jumped out of the truck into a pile of fluffy white snow.
Gabe lifted a hand in farewell, a frown creasing his face. Kendall forced a smile and waved back, even though inside she was cursing herself. He must think she was demented, practically throwing herself out of the truck before it even came to a complete stop. But she couldn’t stand waiting to see what his farewell would be. A kiss on the lips? A kiss on the cheek? A friendly punch in the shoulder as if they were buddies?
No, that one wasn’t his style, at least.
So instead, she grinned at him like an idiot and trudged up the sidewalk to the front stoop of Mr. Brandt’s B and B. She struggled with the key in the cold lock, but the minute the door opened, footsteps rang out from the back hallway, and the innkeeper appeared beside her.
“Ah, Kendall! No worse for the wear, I see.” The man gave her an awkward pat on her shoulder.
Kendall chuckled at the uncomfortable show of affection. “Did Gabe tell you he was with me?”
“He did, but that’s not the same as seeing it with my own eyes. Is he here?”
“Oh, um, no. He had to run into the office and check on things, I think. With the canceled bonfire and everything.” Kendall was fully making it up, and she hoped that Mr. Brandt didn’t question her too closely.
“Come get warm then. Can I make you some coffee?”
“Thank you, that’s very kind, but I think I just want to take a hot bath if you don’t mind. Even with my little propane heater, it wasn’t that warm in the house.”
“Understandable. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks. I will.” Kendall smiled at Gabe’s grandfather and then turned and made for the stairs.
She threw her bag down on the bed as soon as she entered the room and made her way to the attached bathroom, kicking off shoes and stripping off clothing as she went. The tile was cold underfoot, as was the edge of the tub when she perched on it to run the water, but just the prospect of a long, hot soak made some of the tension seep out of her body.
But once she was ensconced in the hot water, complete with lavender-scented bubbles, she couldn’t wait to get back out. She needed to talk to somebody about the situation with Gabe. She almost reached for her cell phone, placed just out of reach on top of her sweater by the tub, but she and Sophie didn’t really have that kind of relationship. They’d never discussed anyone they were seeing, unless it was to complain about the guys’ bad habits once they’d broken up with them. Besides, Kendall wasn’t usually the type to agonize over a man. She met a guy, went out with him, and decided to either keep dating him or let him down easy. Or in the case of the really obnoxious ones, immediately ghosted him. But talk about feelings, go around and around about the nuance of a conversation or a look? Not since middle school.
Fantastic. Gabe had reduced her to a middle schooler.
Still, Kendall couldn’t shake her restlessness, so she stayed in the tub just long enough to defrost her fingers and toes and then wrapped herself in a fluffy bath blanket while she thoroughly dried her hair. Not out of vanity, but out of survival instinct, considering it would freeze solid the minute she ventured outside. When it was finally dry and braided under a warm wool hat, Kendall layered up like she was braving the Arctic, pulled on her damp snow boot
s, and headed back out into the cold.
A block away from the B and B, she began to regret her choice, but it wasn’t like she had any other options. Her car was at the Lakeshore house, Uber didn’t exist up here, and she certainly wasn’t going to call Gabe to drive her to the coffee shop so she could talk about him with Delia.
No, she shouldn’t think of it that way. She was gathering intel from someone who knew him. It was only sensible. Delia might be a friend of his, but she was also a woman, and in these situations, sisterhood always trumped friendship.
By the time she reached Main Street Mocha, Kendall was a teeth-chattering icicle. Her cheeks burned from the cold, her nose was completely numb, and she’d ceased to feel her feet about a block ago. Maybe she wasn’t as adapted to the cold as she thought. Even two blocks in subfreezing temperature made her feel like she might die of hypothermia.
Thankfully, the coffee shop was open, but it was packed with people warming up over mugs of coffee and tea, some of them dressed like they’d come from church. Maybe Gabe’s claim was right—maybe this was a town of churchgoing folks, though that made her feel more out of place than she already had. A quick skim of the counter revealed a teenage girl working the espresso machine. So much for her hope of seeing Delia.
And then the woman bustled in from the back, carrying a large box, and started to transfer stacks of paper cups to the cabinets under the counter. Kendall skirted the line and moved to the side of the counter. “Hey, Delia.”
Delia twisted and then broke into a smile. “Kendall! You made it! I thought you might have decided to crawl back under the covers, not that I would have blamed you.”
“I was actually hoping to talk to you,” Kendall said, then quickly amended, “Just a chat. Nothing important.”
Yeah. Gabe was turning her into a total idiot.
But Delia smiled. “Sure. I just came by to check on things. Mary couldn’t find the extra cups, and she was worried about running out with the after-church crowd. What can I make you?”
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