Kendall glanced at Gabe, her eyes wide. “These are them.” She looked around, so stunned that she could barely form a complete thought. He guided her to an occasional table beneath the window in the front parlor and helped her unroll the papers flat while Mike hovered curiously in the periphery.
“Does it say anything about the architect?” Gabe asked quietly over her shoulder.
Kendall scanned the entire page for the second time. All it showed was the exterior, only slightly different from how it stood now. She shook her head. “I don’t see it.”
Gabe carefully lifted the fragile paper and rolled it up again, then put it aside so they could view the second print in the stack. This one declared No. 3 Lakeshore Drive, Ground Floor, and showed the floor plan with all the pertinent dimensions.
“Still no signature,” Kendall murmured. “But at least we know one thing: the architect was British. Or at least European.”
Gabe frowned at her, puzzled.
“Americans call the bottom floor the first. Always have to my knowledge. Only Europeans use the term ‘ground floor.’”
“I guess there’s an easy way to find out.” Gabe lifted the second sheet to reveal the third. Sure enough, it was the upper floor of the house, marked No. 3 Lakeshore Drive, 1st Floor. “Looks like you’re right.”
Kendall’s excitement started to build once more. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t been able to turn up any records on a J. Green. If he had recently emigrated to America when he designed the houses, there might not be any records, especially if he didn’t come through Ellis Island, which was one of the few institutions to digitize and categorize their old paper records. She looked more closely at the plans and felt a sharp spike of satisfaction that she’d been right: the old staircase had indeed been placed between the master bedroom and the upstairs bathroom. She hadn’t lost her touch when it came to architecture.
“No full signature yet?” Gabe inquired by her ear again. She jumped, startled, her skin prickling at his sudden nearness.
“Not yet.” What architect didn’t sign his plans? Kendall’s stomach twisted. Was it possible that after all this, they might still be no closer to knowing his identity than they were before?
And then she turned over to the last page and inhaled. It was an extensive drawing of the decorative woodwork in the house, showing cross sections and profiles of each piece of molding, even the columbines she had admired on her viewing, with notes on what kind of wood and varnish should be used for each. And at the very bottom were the words No. 3 Lakeshore Drive, Clear Creek County, Colorado—Jasper Green, Architect, London, England, 1899.
A chill rippled over her skin. She slowly turned to Gabe. “Jasper Green. As in . . . Jasper Lake?”
His expression shifted as the implications sank in. “I always thought it was named for the rock that’s found around here.”
“Kind of an ironic name, don’t you think? Green jasper?” Kendall chuckled, but most of her mind was still focused on the possibilities. Now that she knew the architect was English, she had a place to start. Her expertise was mostly centered on the American Arts and Crafts movement, which might be why she’d never heard of him. But given the use of the William Morris wallpaper and the decorative elements that had struck her as far more European than American, it made sense. Why had she not thought to research Morris’s students in Britain?
“This could be big,” Gabe murmured, drawing her thoughts back to the present. “You realize what this means? If Jasper Green really lent his name to Jasper Lake, he could be the founder of the town. These could be the first structures built in the entire place.” He grabbed Kendall’s hands and squeezed. “You might have just saved everything.” And then he pulled back. “How do we find that out, though?”
“First things first. Let’s try to see if Jasper Green was a known architect. That alone makes the houses worth saving.” She pulled up her cell phone and found the tracking notice that Sophie had sent when she FedExed the books, then searched for the package number. “It says the research books I had sent from home have been delivered.”
Gabe jumped up as if he’d been sitting on hot coals. “Mike, can you close up the post again? We need to get back to town.”
Mike had been watching the whole proceeding with vague amusement. “All I want to know is if this is going to ruin Burton’s plans.”
Gabe and Kendall exchanged a glance and simultaneously declared, “Oh yeah.”
Mike grinned. “That’s all I needed to know. Let me clean up here and we’ll lock up.”
Kendall shifted from foot to foot impatiently while Mike tapped the cap back onto the post and gathered his tools. Gabe carefully rerolled the plans and handed them over to her for safekeeping, but she could do little but clutch them and marvel over the discovery. If Jasper Green was anyone important or if he was involved in the founding of the town, they had the tools they needed to win over the city council and stop the zoning change. They’d found their smoking gun.
And Kendall might have found a little-known bit of her past. She stared at the prints for a moment in wonder. Was that where she’d gotten her love of architecture and design? Did it literally run through her blood?
“Ready to go?” Mike asked, poking his head in through the front door. Kendall jolted back to the present and impulsively hugged the handyman. “What was that for?”
“Thanks for helping us. If you hadn’t mentioned the post, we would never have thought to look there. How did you know about it?”
Mike shrugged. “My wife likes to watch those English mysteries on PBS. Always something hidden in a post or a fireplace, isn’t there?”
Kendall looked at Gabe and they both started to laugh. “Then thank your wife for watching all those mysteries.”
They locked up the house and made their way to the trucks parked at the curb. The whole time Kendall crossed her fingers mentally and sent up prayers to whoever would listen that the books waiting back at the B and B would illuminate something about their architect. They paused between the bumpers of Gabe’s truck and Kendall’s SUV.
“That was some stroke of luck,” Gabe said. “Now we just need to see if we can track down how Jasper Green came to Colorado from England. It kills me that all those old records were lost. Surely there was some information about him in there.”
“Maybe not. After all, if he founded the town, he might have predated the town records. And who knows? Back then people would settle in a place, the town would grow up around it, and they’d name it after the founder posthumously. He might not have even survived to see his namesake.”
“Yeah, but what about the J. Green in the tax rolls?”
Kendall paused. He had a point. “There’s no way of knowing whether or not that was Jasper. Could have been a child or a widow.”
“I guess you’re right. It feels like every time we get a little bit of information, it just shows us how much we still don’t know.”
Kendall flashed a rueful smile. “Don’t I know it.”
Gabe reached for her hand. “We’re going to find out about your mother, Kendall. Somehow. I promise you that.”
For a long moment, she wanted to believe him, wanted to keep her hand in the warmth of his grasp, but then she remembered that no matter what she might feel for him, the relationship was doomed. She drew it away slowly and kept her voice light. “Don’t promise things that you can’t deliver, Gabe.”
Gabe looked at her sharply, and only then did she realize that her words could have been taken two ways. She hugged her arms around herself.
Well, he shouldn’t promise that either. But they didn’t have time to dwell on a relationship that was dead before it even started.
Just as the silence began to get awkward, Gabe nodded toward her SUV. “You have a snow brush for all that?”
“A what?”
Gabe chuckled. “Hold on.” He went to the truck’s back seat and returned with a long plastic tool, sporting a soft brush on one end and an ice scraper on the
other. She reached for it, but he ignored her and began to brush the accumulated snow from all the windows. Kendall flushed. Even after all the weirdness between them, he still treated her with kindness.
Perhaps that’s what made her pause halfway to the driver’s side door. “You’re still coming back to the B and B with me, aren’t you?”
He seemed surprised. “If that’s okay.”
She gave a single nod. “I could use the help. Follow me back?”
“I’ll see you there.”
Kendall faltered for a moment, then unlocked the door and climbed into the frigid interior of her rental vehicle. She almost regretted picking up the SUV, not because she wanted an excuse to spend time with Gabe, but because the silence inside gave her far too much time to think. Far too much time to dwell on the possibilities. She was glad when they finally arrived in front of the B and B, Gabe parking behind her at the curb, and they quick-walked up the slippery path to the front door.
As soon as they stepped through the front door, Gabe lifted his voice and called, “Opa?”
A moment later, Mr. Brandt appeared, wearing an apron and wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. “There you are. Kendall, you got a delivery. The box is on the floor right there behind you.”
They turned to see a large cardboard box, battered and water stained, but intact. Gabe asked, “Opa, can we use the dining room? We’ve got a bunch of books to lay out.”
He shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Doesn’t get used for anything else anymore.” He cocked his head curiously. “What have you got there?”
“We found the architect of the Lakeshore houses,” Kendall said before Gabe could answer. “We need to see if there’s anything about him in my reference books.”
His eyebrows rose. “You shipped them all from California?”
“Oh, this isn’t even close to all. This is just a small section of my collection. My entire library is filled with reference books and catalogs.” The words filled her with a sudden pang of homesickness for her Pasadena house. She’d only been gone a week, but it felt like she’d completely separated from her old life, as if it were a half-remembered dream. How could her detour here feel more real than the life she’d so painstakingly made back home?
She looked at Gabe and her chest clenched. It was his fault. From the moment she had laid eyes on him, she’d been pulled in like there was some invisible band that connected them. Even when she was trying to deny everything—her attraction, her hope for what she would find here—she had been slowly falling for him. His kindness. The soft way he touched her when he wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how. The passionate way he’d kissed her and the restraint he’d shown afterward. It all added up to someone she could love.
And he didn’t want her.
Tears pricked her eyes. “You know what?” she said suddenly. “Why don’t you leave them to me?”
Mr. Brandt looked between the two of them, obviously deciding there was more than met the eye going on, and excused himself. But Gabe wasn’t quite so intuitive. “It will go faster with both of us.”
Kendall stared at the floor. “I can’t do this, Gabe. I can’t pretend this with you.”
“What do you mean?”
She laughed harshly, but she still didn’t look him in the eye. “I can’t pretend not to be falling in love with you. And I don’t believe that you don’t feel something for me. It’s just your stupid, rigid beliefs that are in the way, and I can’t look at you without being angry and hurt and absolutely baffled that an intelligent person like you would be bound by some outdated standard.”
“Kendall . . .”
She brushed past him and picked up the box, struggling under its weight. She was going to hurt herself, but right now she was too angry to let him think she couldn’t handle it. “I’ll call you if I find something. Otherwise . . . I don’t think we have anything to say to one another.” She started up the stairs, teetering precariously, but he didn’t come after her. She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.
When she got up to the landing, he said her name again. She turned, hoping that maybe what she’d said had sunk in, that maybe he was going to change his mind. But he was only watching her with a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry, Kendall. I know you probably hate me right now. Outdated standards or not, it’s what I believe. And I can’t change that for you or anyone.”
Kendall gave him a sharp nod. She pushed through into her room and bumped the door shut with her hip, then lowered the box to the floor with a thud. Where she landed beside it and cried like her heart would break.
Except it hadn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. You couldn’t break something that had already been destroyed long ago.
Gabe knew he should go back to work, but acting like nothing had happened after the confrontation with Kendall was impossible. Instead, he found himself walking to Main Street Mocha, inviting the biting cold as punishment for his own stupidity.
This whole thing happened because he was trying not to hurt Kendall, knew that if they continued down this road, it could never work out. His mistake wasn’t sticking to his beliefs; it was forgetting about them in the first place. He’d let his own attraction to her get out of hand, let her think that there was a future for them. It might not have been logical, but matters of the heart never were.
And now he’d done damage to someone he truly cared about.
His misery must have shown on his face, because when he stepped up to the counter to order, Delia took one look at him and made a face. “Uh-oh. That doesn’t look good.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Can I just get a small Americano?”
“You can if you tell me what’s going on with you.”
Gabe glanced around. There were a handful of people in the coffee shop in the afternoon, but he wouldn’t call it crowded. Still, he didn’t feel like spilling his guts standing at a cash register. “Caffeine first.”
“Okay. I can respect that.” She waved him off when he pulled out his wallet. “You can wait to pay until I decide if I feel sorry for you or not. If I do, no charge. If I don’t, double.”
That made Gabe smile. Delia never failed to cheer him up, even when he was feeling completely wrecked. “Deal. Make it a large, then. I have a feeling I’m going to come out on the right side of this one.”
Delia gave him an amused look and then pointed sternly to the table in the corner. “Plant it there. I’ll bring you your coffee in a minute. Have your wallet ready.”
Gabe chuckled, though inwardly he wasn’t feeling much like laughing. He took the seat by the window that she indicated and drummed his fingers on the table while he waited for his drink. A few minutes later, Delia set a stoneware cup and saucer in front of him and plopped herself into the chair opposite.
“I’m in love with Kendall,” he said.
Delia didn’t react.
“But for obvious reasons, that can’t work out.”
She said nothing.
“The thing is, I didn’t mean for it to happen. There’s just . . . something about her. I can’t help it. She’s smart and funny and . . .”
“Wounded?” Delia suggested.
Gabe blinked. “Well, kind of. But that’s not why I fell for her.”
Delia folded her hands on the table. “Gabe, I say this out of love. But you’re confused here.”
He sat back in his chair, feeling vaguely offended, though he wasn’t sure why. “Of course I’m confused.”
“She’s been here for a week. You’re not in love. You’ve found someone you admire and you’re attracted to. There’s a difference. What you’re in love with is the chance to fix her.”
“No! That’s not it at all.”
Delia reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “Gabe, you’re a fixer. You always have been. It’s why you came back to Jasper Lake and ran for mayor. You saw a problem and you thought you could do something about it.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No, tha
t’s a very good thing. It’s one of the things that makes you a great friend and potentially a great mayor. Jury is still out on that second one, but I have high hopes for you.” She winked at him. “But since Kendall Green came into town, I’m not sure you’ve seen her as a person. First you saw her as the solution to the town’s problems. And then you saw her as someone you could help, someone you could fix.” She looked at him closely. “Tell me that’s not true.”
He wanted to protest, but he thought of how he’d promised that they’d uncover what happened to her mother, of the steps he’d already taken to accomplish it. “Okay, maybe you’re right on that count. But I still don’t think it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not a bad thing! Not at all. But it’s not love. If it turns into a relationship, it’s codependency.” She held up her hands. “I’m no psychologist. But I have spent enough time in a therapist’s chair to know relationships that start because two people need each other are doomed. You’ve got your stuff. She’s got her stuff. Maybe you should be focusing on how to work out that stuff rather than how to be together. And after that? Who knows?”
What Delia said made a lot of sense, but he couldn’t accept it completely. Not when his free Americano was on the line. “She’s leaving this week. I may never see her again.”
“Then it wasn’t meant to be.” Her smile turned gentler. “Tell me, Gabe, who’s in charge here, you or God?”
The obvious answer was God, but when he opened his mouth to respond, he couldn’t in good conscience pretend that he was letting Him lead. “Okay, fine, you’ve made your point.” It didn’t mean he had to like it. Why would Kendall have come into his life other than to have a relationship?
He felt so stupid even thinking that, when the answer was clear. Of course there were other reasons. Saving his town. Helping Kendall find the truth of her past, heal from the trauma of her abandonment. When he said as much, Delia fixed him with a pointed stare. “You’re stepping into your savior complex again, my friend. You ever hear the phrase ‘Physician, heal thyself’?”
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