He found his voice and was pleased that it came out strong and steady. “I’m sorry to just drop in on you like this. Do you have a minute?”
“For you? Always.” He stepped aside and gestured for Gabe to precede him down the hall into the back of the office. Gabe was relieved he didn’t try to embrace him or touch him in any way. In fact, he was treating him like a friendly business associate. Which, in this case, was exactly what he was.
“First door on the right,” Robert said in a low voice, and Gabe turned in to a surprisingly small office that was decorated only with a mission-style desk, a matching credenza, and two conference chairs. Paperwork spilled from piles on the desk, and the walls were hung with dry-erase boards covered with various property addresses rather than the fine art he’d expected. Instead of taking a seat in the imposing leather chair behind the desk, Robert turned one of the guest chairs so he could face Gabe.
“What can I help you with today, Son?” The word seemed to be almost automatic, as directed toward a younger man, not to his own actual son, but it still grated on Gabe’s nerves.
“I have a business proposition for you.”
Robert studied him for a long moment, then gave a nod. “I’m listening.”
Gabe hesitated, but Robert seemed to be serious, so he started at the beginning. How he’d been elected mayor of Jasper Lake to preserve the town’s character, how Burton’s development threatened that, and how the nasty behind-the-scenes dealing was threatening to demolish Kendall’s houses. When Gabe finished, Robert just sat there, his head tipped toward the ceiling, thinking.
“That is a tricky situation.” Robert finally focused on his face. “I don’t see how I’d be able to help directly. The fact is, we’re exclusively focusing on Denver at the moment, and my firm is integrally involved in lobbying for zoning changes to prevent some of the irresponsible development that’s happening in the less affluent neighborhoods.”
Gabe’s hopes plummeted. He could understand where his father was coming from, but he wouldn’t make an exception, even for him? He didn’t know why he’d come here. He’d burned these bridges long ago, and it was only stupid hope that made him think some remnant of paternal responsibility would induce Robert to help. Worst of all, Gabe really couldn’t blame him.
But Robert wasn’t finished. He grabbed a notepad from his desk and scribbled several names and numbers on a sheet of paper, then tore it off and handed it to Gabe. “The first number is an attorney I work with, Pam Martinez. First thing you do is call her and ask her to file an injunction on the condemnation proceedings pending a historical places designation. She’s well familiar with the county court systems, and most of the judges won’t bother ruling against her because she has a reputation for tying them up with motions until they give in.” A small smile surfaced on Robert’s face—either he liked this woman or he admired her pit bull approach. Maybe both. “The second, Winnie Johnson, is a friend I know involved in Colorado historical preservation projects. She’s also part of the board that reviews grant applications for historical preservation. The deadline was a couple of weeks ago, but I happen to know that they haven’t awarded this year’s grants yet. They may be willing to fudge the deadline if you tell her what you’ve told me. That could at least buy you some time to get the houses up to code and lift the condemnation proceedings.
“In the meantime, you and this Kendall you mentioned need to put in your application for the National Register. As in yesterday. Pam is going to need that as part of her filing. And then, based on those things, you push—and push hard—to get the city council to change the zoning. Immediately. Bring a motion and make them vote on it. Show the dirty tricks this guy is willing to employ to destroy the most unique characteristics of your city. Ask them how much their autonomy is worth to them.” Robert’s eyes sparkled. “If there’s one thing I know about Coloradans, especially in the high country, it’s that they prize their way of life and their independence. Show them that they’re letting an outsider determine their future.” He held Gabe’s gaze. “This isn’t a matter of facts, Gabe; it’s a matter of emotion. Of personality. Like it or not, you chose to be the leader of this town. So lead. I have no doubt that you’re capable of swinging this your way.”
Gabe skimmed the paper in his hand, but he really didn’t see it. This was not what he’d expected when he’d shown up here today. He’d been hoping that Robert would swoop in with his checkbook and save the day. Maybe feel a little bit of guilt about how he and his mom had struggled when he was a child.
Instead, he was acting like . . . a father.
A father giving him advice, shoring up his confidence. Except unlike a real father, he hadn’t been there. These were all just empty platitudes. A way to get him out of his office quickly so he could get back to his real work. “How do you know I can lead?” Gabe shot back. “You know nearly nothing about me.”
The corner of Robert’s mouth tipped up, but it was almost a grimace, not a smile. “That was by your choice, Son, not mine. And I venture to say I know a lot more about you than you think.” He tilted his head toward the credenza behind them.
For the first time, Gabe noticed the photos sitting there. Several of them were of Robert’s daughters, as he might have expected. But there was one of him with his mom at his high school graduation, beaming off to the side in a way that made it obvious they’d been smiling for someone else’s camera. Another photo of him shaking the hand of the president of his university as he accepted his graduate school diploma, obviously taken from a distance and cropped.
“I stayed away out of respect for your wishes,” Robert said quietly, his voice a little hoarse. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care. Or that I’m not proud of you.” Now the grimace turned into something more like a smile. “I’ve followed from afar. I hope that doesn’t upset you.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that.” In some ways, it felt intrusive, almost creepy, that Robert had been present at his graduations and he didn’t know it. Of course, it wasn’t like he was following Gabe around town with a telephoto lens or something, but the idea that he’d been there and Gabe hadn’t known . . .
Robert gave a single nod. “Call Pam and Winnie. Today, even. They’ll take your calls and they can help guide you through the process. Save your town, Gabe.” He pushed himself to his feet. “And when you decide how you feel about the rest, even if you just want to talk, vent, tell me what a terrible absentee father I was—” a wry twist of a smile surfaced again—“you know where to find me.”
Gabe stood as well. He hesitated before gripping Robert’s outstretched hand. “Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for the advice.”
“Good luck. I trust you know your way out? I’m overdue for a meeting.”
Gabe nodded slowly and turned toward the door, aware of Robert following him out. But he didn’t turn back to see if he was looking, to see if he turned down the intersecting corridor toward some unseen conference room. He didn’t want to see whether he looked proud or disturbed or sad.
Robert Miller didn’t get to have that kind of effect on Gabe. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Gabe smiled at the receptionist on the way out and made his way to the elevator, simultaneously unsettled and excited. He had a plan of attack now. A way to save both the houses and the town. It didn’t help Kendall with her house back in California, but it did prevent her from losing all the value in her property.
If only it could stop him from losing her completely.
Chapter Thirty-One
THE ENTIRE TIME THAT GABE WAS IN DENVER, Kendall felt like holding her breath. He’d finally told her what his father did and how he might be able to help them, but despite what he wasn’t saying, she knew it was a long shot. What man would receive his son with open arms when he’d been reviled for over a decade? Kendall certainly didn’t expect anything. Which meant that she would be responsible for making these next steps work on her own.
Somehow, Kendall had thought that this w
as going to be a simple process—just download the appropriate forms, fill them out, and email them in. She should have known better, especially considering that it was a governmental process. It took her nearly all morning to parse the National Park Service’s website and download all the requisite forms for the national registry, which then sent her to the state’s historical society, History Colorado, for information on the state registry. It seemed that they gave grants up to $200,000 for the preservation of historically significant properties.
It was then that she made two unpleasant realizations. First, she had missed the fall deadline by mere days. And second, just because they got the properties listed—if they got the properties listed—it didn’t mean that they would be automatically protected. Private owners were within their rights to demolish, renovate, change, or rebuild the properties as they saw fit, with no interference from state or local governments. Which meant the county could still choose to condemn the houses if they deemed them dangerous.
In short, the magic bullet might turn out to be no more effective than a Nerf dart.
Kendall sighed and dropped her head into her hands. She was beginning to think that she really might not come out of this process with anything. Somewhere along the lines, she’d stopped worrying about buying the house in Pasadena and started agonizing over the idea of losing the last tenuous link to her past. Now that she knew, however late it might be, that she’d actually had a family who loved her, Connie Green’s house meant something to her. The town meant something to her.
Gabe meant something to her.
But that last part wasn’t to be. He’d made that clear. And it had no bearing on what she had to do here. For the first time in her life, for reasons she couldn’t understand, she was tempted to pray.
But that was stupid. She wasn’t even convinced that God would acknowledge her existence. He certainly had never made Himself known to her in those years when she’d needed Him. So why would He bother to rouse from His slumber for something as insignificant as saving a home she didn’t even know she had a few weeks ago?
And yet . . . she found herself thinking the words in her head, if not to God, to the universe. Please. Please don’t let me lose this house. After everything I’ve lost, I think that would be unbearable.
The words had barely surfaced in her mind before her phone rang and jerked her out of her thoughts. She snatched it up and saw Gabe’s name on the screen. After a moment of hesitation, she punched the Accept button and raised it to her ear with a tentative “Hello?”
“Kendall. I’m glad you picked up. I just left my dad’s office.”
Her hopes rose. “Will he help you? Is he interested in investing?”
“Not exactly,” Gabe said, and those hopes crashed to the ground, as fragile and brittle as antique china. “But he did have another idea.” Gabe filled her in on what his father had suggested about contacting the state historical society and applying for a grant.
“I already found that,” Kendall said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. “We missed the deadline.”
“Yes, but before we didn’t have the recommendation of a member of the organization and the personal contact information of one of the decision makers. Not that she can sway them to our side, but he was pretty sure they’d accept the late application given the unique situation and the urgency.”
Kendall’s heart lifted. “Really?”
“Really. But there’s more. He gave me the name of an attorney. I already called her and she’ll see me this afternoon while I’m in Denver. She’s willing to file for an injunction on the condemnation proceedings in county court, and she’s pretty sure she’ll be successful.”
For reasons that she couldn’t fully explain, tears sprang to Kendall’s eyes. “Really?” she repeated, her voice choked.
Gabe’s voice softened. “Really, Kendall. We’re not going to let Burton succeed. We’re going to fight this, and we’re going to win.”
Emotion swelled in her chest and she found she couldn’t answer for several seconds. “Thank you, Gabe. I mean, I know this is for the town too, but . . .”
“I know how much it means to you, Kendall. I know it wasn’t what you were looking for when you came here, but I don’t blame you for wanting to hold on to that connection to your past.”
Kendall swallowed hard and nodded before realizing he couldn’t see that gesture. Hope joined the ache in her center, fragile but new. “Thanks, Gabe. I’m going to get started on the registry application now.”
“Good plan. I’ll call you when I’m done with the lawyer.” He paused. “God willing, we’ll have this all locked down by the time you have to leave.”
“Great. Let me know what happens.” She clicked off the line, but his words stuck with her: God willing. Maybe it was just a saying, but now she wondered. The timing of his call felt altogether too convenient given her tentative prayer moments before.
But that was silly.
Wasn’t it?
Kendall pushed her laptop off her lap onto the bed and thrust her feet into the boots standing on the rug at the bedside. She needed to work on the registry application, yes, but the checklist had clearly said that she needed photographs documenting the homes and their historic elements. Given the fact that there was no electricity there, she needed to snap some photos while it was still light outside. She might as well give it a shot now. They didn’t have much time to waste.
Kendall pulled on her jacket over her fuzzy sweater and yanked her knit cap down over her ears, bracing herself for the cold. Fortunately, the roads were hard-packed and reasonably stable between the mounds of snow on the shoulders, so she drove far more confidently than she had the day after the storm.
And yet when she pulled up to her house, there was a big black SUV sitting in front. Slowly Kendall climbed out of her rental, her brow furrowed. Tracks in the snow around the outside of the house showed someone had been there recently . . . or was still there.
“Hello?” she called, hating the fact that her voice sounded so tentative. For the first time, she realized exactly how isolated she was out here, on a side of the lake that had no structures except for the occasional hunting shack. The town itself was so friendly and benign that it had never occurred to her to worry about the isolation. But now . . .
Don’t be stupid. It was probably the city inspector tacking up the notice on the door. Now that she had crossed the street to the sidewalk, she saw the piece of paper that had indeed been pasted to her front door.
And then a crunching of snow from the back of the house alerted her to the owner of the footprints. She braced herself as a tall figure rounded the side of the house, resolving into an all-too-familiar sight: Phil Burton.
The fear she’d felt moments ago dissolved into pure, unadulterated fury. She planted her hands on her hips and stared him down as he approached, an amused smile on his face.
“Good morning, Kendall. Didn’t expect to see you out here. Come to say goodbye to the place?”
Very rarely had she considered a person evil, and she’d mostly thought of Burton as an opportunist. Maybe she had an uneasy relationship with development, but she’d never really hated him. Until this moment.
He was trying to upset her, wanted her to know that he’d won. Basically he was gloating. Kendall didn’t take the bait. Instead she said evenly, “You’re trespassing. This is my property, not yours.”
“Come now, Kendall. We both know it won’t be your property for long.”
She didn’t want to tip her hand, so she just clenched her jaw. “All you’ve managed to do is get condemnation proceedings started. They might tear the houses down, but given that you’re behind it, what makes you think that I would ever sell the land to you?” She turned and surveyed the lake. “I mean, since you’re thinking about developing around it, I was thinking I might hold on to it as an investment. I figure in about ten years, this lot will be worth . . . what? A million or two at least? If I’m patient, I’ll get what I want
out of it.”
For a second, Burton’s expression flickered into uncertainty. She’d at least planted a seed of doubt. But it steeled again and he smiled. “If that’s what you want to do, I have no objection. Hold on to the land. I’ll build around it and take advantage of the unobstructed views of the lake through your property. Because really, who’s going to want to build a multimillion-dollar house that backs to a resort?”
He had her there, and he knew it. But this had been about misdirection—she didn’t want him to think for a second that they were going to fight him in court or that they were going for a History Colorado grant. Let him bask in his own glory while he could. The thought of his shock made her smile inwardly. If he wasn’t so determined to make this personal, she probably wouldn’t be so determined to enjoy his inevitable defeat.
But that brought up another question. Why exactly was this so personal to him? She could understand trying to secure the lot for a development, but there was plenty of land on this side of the lake. In fact, her houses didn’t even have the best views. The section just a half mile down had a protected cove that would be perfect for launching paddleboards and rowboats come summer. So why was he so determined to have this spot for his resort?
Secure in his victory in their little skirmish, he brushed past her, striding out into the snowy street.
Kendall called to him, “What do you get out of this exactly?”
He paused. “What do you mean?”
“There are better places to build a resort, and given the amount of money you were willing to throw at this piece of land, I know that finances aren’t the main issue. So why are you so determined to knock down these houses?”
Burton went still, and she knew she’d scored a direct hit. For a long moment, she didn’t think he was going to answer her. But then he strode back toward her, his expression ugly. “You really want to know why?”
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