by Tracy March
Holly could’ve asked Lindsey to meet her anywhere—certainly someplace less cramped. But most places in Thistle Bend had eyes on the ceilings and ears on the walls. The museum was the perfect place for a couple of reasons. One: She’d swear that the same man she’d seen in the sepia-toned, late-1800s photograph in the suite at the lodge was also pictured somewhere in the museum. If Lindsey didn’t recognize him, then they could go on a little scavenger hunt and find the guy. Two: No one was at the museum at this hour, and Holly felt safe talking in the confined space of Lindsey’s office—neat and cheery despite its size, with a high, rectangular window that let in lots of natural light. Lindsey took her seat behind her desk, and Holly sat in the folding chair next to it.
“Still no money in the budget for a proper chair?” Holly joked. “If I come in here one more time and see this, I’m going to donate one.”
“Why wait until then?”
“You’ve got me there.”
Lindsey lifted the lid off her latte, let the steam rise, and blew into the cup before she took a sip. “Mmm. I’d take one of the suede beauties from your office, but it would never fit in here.”
Holly put the bakery box on the desk between them and opened it. The scent of sweet cinnamon and fresh-baked bread quickly filled the office as she dug in her purse for the napkins and plastic forks. Handing a set to Holly, she said, “Dig in. Forks optional—fingers are fine.”
Lindsey wasted no time finding the end of the bread and peeling it away from her roll—exactly the way Holly preferred to eat hers, because the center was always the most delicious part. Moist, gooey goodness—with plenty of pecan pieces. Best to save that for last. Holly didn’t bother to lift the lid off her espresso macchiato. She took a steaming sip and swallowed, wincing in its wake.
“Carden felt so bad about what happened at your grandpa’s farm the other day.” Lindsey said. “He didn’t mean to bring up the lodge. Poor guy had no idea. I mean, who would’ve guessed Bryce was buying that place?”
“Blindsided me all right. But please give Carden a hug and tell him not to worry about it. My grandpa would’ve found out at some point. I’d rather it have been when I was around.”
“Carden tried to explain to me what happened with your family and the lodge…and how you lost your grandma—which is awful, and I’m sorry.”
Holly’s heart hitched. “Thanks.” That’s all she could manage without getting choked up. All the business with the lodge had stirred her emotions, making her miss her grandma even more. She pinched off a bite of her cinnamon roll and chewed it slowly, soothed by the sugary cinnamon.
“But I’m not sure I understood how everything happened, exactly. A year isn’t nearly enough time to play catch-up on all the history of Thistle Bend.” Lindsey made a sweeping gesture toward the museum’s exhibit halls. “Especially the recent past.” She gave Holly a rueful look. “Can you help me out with the story?”
Holly had known this was coming, and she couldn’t blame Lindsey for being curious. She was trying to be a good friend. No matter how painful it was to tell the story, or how complicated it might sound, Holly wanted Lindsey to understand where she was coming from when it came to her feelings about the lodge, and how they related to her situation with Bryce. If she wanted to develop a deeper friendship with Lindsey—and she did—she had to open up more.
Bryce’s arrival had been quite a catalyst, pushing Holly to step outside of herself and share even more with Lindsey. First, there’d been the Max story. Now the one about her grandma.
Holly fortified herself with a slug of espresso. “My grandpa was the president of Thistle Bend Bank when a man named Adam Evanston came to town. Evanston courted the town council, who approved his plans for the Lodge at Wild Rose Ridge, with the stipulation that he would do business with the local bank and contractors. So Evanston went to the bank and applied for a loan to build the lodge. There was a huge debate about it since the loan would be one of the largest and riskiest that the bank had ever made. Lots of people were concerned—everyone from bank officials to customers. The bank’s board was evenly split over the decision.” Holly shook her head ruefully. “So the tie-breaking vote came down to my grandpa.”
“Uh-oh.” Lindsey chewed a bite of cinnamon roll very slowly.
“Needless to say, there were people in his office all the time, trying to influence him. They even showed up at the farm, and approached him and my grandma when they were in town for dinner or at the grocery store—wherever they were.”
Lindsey scrunched her face.
“One person wanted the jobs the lodge would bring, another didn’t want the land developed. Someone argued that the council had been bribed, and another claimed that the tourists and taxes would help the town’s economy. There didn’t seem to be anyone in the middle, and it was a bitter divide.”
Lindsey shook her head, a for-sure look on her face. She’d had plenty of experience with bitter divides, having been tossed in the middle of Thistle Bend’s generations-long family feud between the Karlssons and the Crenshaws when she first came to Thistle Bend. “This town’s had a few of them over the years, hasn’t it?”
“It’s odd, because Thistle Bend is a pretty happy place.”
“Carden said your grandma was ill while all this was going on.” Lindsey had stopped eating her cinnamon roll.
Holly pushed the box toward her, urging her to finish it. Emotion welled in her throat and she swallowed against it. “She’d had a massive heart attack and a quadruple bypass six months before the lodge drama started. Her recovery had gone slowly, but she was making progress. The doctors expected her to regain her strength and stamina over time. But they warned us that too much stress would inhibit her progress, and might even contribute to another heart attack.”
“And along came all the people and all the pressure on your grandpa,” Lindsey said.
Holly nodded. “Grandma understood why some people wanted him to approve the loan and others didn’t. She begged him to vote against it.” She drank some more espresso, hoping the buzz would make her numb to her knotted emotions, yet knowing full well it wouldn’t. “She told him that any problems with the lodge would be blamed on him, while any successes would be attributed to Evanston. In other words, he could have made a decision that was unpopular in the short term, but it would’ve ended the debate since there’d be no lodge. Otherwise, my grandpa would be the fall guy…forever.”
“He went against her advice?” Lindsey asked.
“There was more to it than that. A couple of his really good friends were on the town council, and they pressed him to vote for the loan. Of course they had businesses that stood to benefit from the construction and operation of the lodge, and they were also some of the bank’s biggest customers. Grandpa couldn’t win either way.” Holly stabbed her cinnamon roll with her fork, tore off another bite, and ate it. “He was so torn up and stressed about it, I’m surprised he didn’t have a heart attack himself.”
“It had to be awful for you and your family—watching your grandparents go through that.”
“Imagine how my dad felt, trying to help his parents but being helpless to do much of anything. My mom, too. We were all really close. I was only seventeen, but I remember the weight of it on us. I mean, no one was angry, but everyone was tense.”
“At least y’all were able to keep anger out of the situation,” Lindsey said, her tone sympathetic. “That takes a strong family.”
At least we had that.
Lindsey crossed her legs and leaned forward. “So the loan went through and the lodge was built—”
“But so many things went wrong. With contractors and employees and loan payments. The place turned out to be spectacular, yet nothing but bad came from it.”
“People blamed your grandpa?”
“Yep.” Holly bunched her lips. “And everyone in our family, by association.” Her stomach clenched. “I remember the stares and whispers I got when I came home from college for summer breaks du
ring the lodge’s worst years. But Grandpa got the worst of the anger, just like Grandma had predicted. The stress of it was awful for both of them. Grandpa had real struggles at the bank when the loan payments stopped and they had to foreclose on the lodge. Then the few people who were happy with the place, or who liked their jobs there, became upset, too.”
“What a mess.”
“It was worse than that. From the second that Evanston applied for the loan, my grandmother’s health never improved—it deteriorated under the stress the lodge continued to cause.” Holly shrugged weakly. “But she was never bitter or negative about the situation—she kept it all inside. She’d garden a little when she had the strength. I remember her working out there, so slight and frail, her big ol’ wide-brimmed hat shading her sweet face.” She gazed at the narrow silver cuff bracelet on her wrist—a thirteenth-birthday gift from her grandma. Holly had worn it every day since, trying to live by the inscription engraved inside.
Always love.
“Did you mean for this to say ‘Love always’?” she’d asked her grandma.
“No,” she’d said, with a wise smile. “I like it better this way.”
Holly blinked back tears. “She died from another heart attack right after the bank foreclosed on the lodge.”
Looking a little teary-eyed herself, Lindsey got up and hugged Holly. “I’m so sad for you.”
Holly’s heart lightened a little. “Please don’t be. It’s hard to lose people you love, but we all try to be happy in her memory instead of sad.”
“I like that,” Lindsey said as she settled back in her chair. “And I can understand why you and your family would have an aversion to the lodge and anyone or anything associated with it. Now I get why Carden felt so bad for pushing you about the information while your grandpa was standing right there. Did he mention it after Carden left?”
“No, but I could tell it was on his mind. We were busy planting a big section of the garden. He loves planting days, so I let it go, hoping he’d get lost in the ritual and enjoy putting the seeds and seedlings in the ground.”
Lindsey frowned. “How do you think he feels about the lodge coming back into your lives, so to speak? You’re going to be representing the buyer at closing. It’s almost like Groundhog Day.”
The knot in Holly’s chest pulled tighter. She puffed up her cheeks and blew out a breath. “I know. I’ll have to talk it through with Grandpa soon. I mean, it’s a good opportunity. There’s always plenty of work during these busy summer months, but the more I get, the more money I can save. Who knows how long the real estate market will stay strong here? It’s hard to say no to the business.”
Lindsey smiled knowingly. “You mean it’s hard to say no to the client.” She took the last bite of her cinnamon roll and pressed her hand over her flat belly as if there might not be room for it there.
“Can you blame me?” Holly teased, trying to keep things light despite her worry that her attraction to Bryce might be overriding her good sense. Maybe she should back away and simply represent him at closing. Helping him figure out what had happened with the hidden suite could be taking things a step too far.
As if kissing him wasn’t a giant leap…
“I went to the lodge with him yesterday,” Holly said.
Lindsey’s eyes bugged. She stopped chewing and slapped her fingers in front of her mouth. “What?”
“He asked me to go on a walk-through.”
Lindsey swallowed with a visible gulp. “So the realtor was with you guys?”
“No. George had a scheduling conflict. Bryce and I went alone.”
Lindsey’s jaw went slack. “You guys went on a date!”
“Not exactly.” The emotions Holly had stirred up while telling the story of her family’s past with the lodge had her even more conflicted about her present-day situation. Perhaps it would be best if she waited to see what today brought before she told Lindsey more about yesterday. If she decided to back away from both Bryce and the mystery, there was no need to pique Lindsey’s interest.
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
Cornered, Holly’s pulse thrummed in her ears, the espresso kicking in. “It means we drove up there, looked around inside, drank a bottle of wine…” Tingles swirled up her spine and heat rose in her face as she pictured the part of the story she was leaving out.
That kiss…
Lindsey nodded, more engaged with each revelation. “What was it like?”
Like I can’t wait for another one.
Tearing her thoughts away from Bryce, she focused on envisioning the lodge. “Kind of creepy—all closed-up and musty. The place is pretty much a shell, stripped of almost everything, down to the boards and beams. There were beer cans and graffiti—stuff like that—from where people had broken in over the years.”
“I didn’t mean the lodge.” A slow grin stretched across Lindsey’s face. “I meant the kiss.”
Chapter 8
Bryce pushed the huge piece of plywood aside and gestured for Holly to go ahead of him into the suite, shining the beam of his flashlight through the hole in the wall. “Ladies first.”
“Your chivalry is noted, sir, but I’m going to decline,” she said with a grin and a curtsey. “In this case, the knight in shining armor should proceed.”
Bryce bowed with a flourish. “As you wish, m’lady.”
She grinned, her eyes sparkling, looking exactly like his kind of lady in her snug jeans, hiking boots, and a brightly colored, fitted flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He wore a similar getup, except his jeans weren’t snug, his shirt wasn’t bright or fitted, and his baseball cap was blue. Hers was the color of orange sherbet, with Thistle Bend embroidered on the front in a girly font, her silky ponytail sticking out the back, reminding him of how she’d looked the day he’d met her on the ridge trail. They’d come to the lodge to find answers, and that might take some getting dirty. It would also take some focus, because he’d much rather kiss her than work.
Yesterday’s killer kiss had left him wanting more. Holly had seemed into it too, with her sweet mouth on his, her palms pressed against his face, and her fingernails lightly grazing his cheeks. He would’ve sworn they were both feeling the undeniable electricity between them. But after their kiss, she’d seemed to withdraw. Not overtly, just a vibe he caught—as if she was second-guessing letting her guard down.
Given time to think about it overnight, Bryce decided that he’d been the one who let his guard down, talking about his mom, his search-and-rescue mission, and his relationship with James. He’d never revealed that much to any girl so soon. Clearly he had felt a connection with her, but sharing a sexy kiss didn’t mean she felt the same. He’d experienced more than a few hot, meaningless kisses with women—no reciprocal connection required.
Bryce hadn’t been looking for romance when he’d gotten pitched from that mountain bike, or when he’d shown up at Holly’s office searching for a real estate lawyer. But there she’d been each time, stirring up an unusual urge in him to get closer and solve her mysteries. Why was she down on the lodge? She’d made her opinion of the place quite clear that day in her office, yet she hadn’t said much more about it since. What made her so hesitant to reveal herself, even though she seemed quite open?
And when should I risk kissing her again?
He’d spent way too much time imagining them together—a kiss being just the beginning of all the things he wanted to do to please her.
He struck the images from his mind before they hijacked his body again. There was no running water in the lodge. No cold shower to cool him down like the one he’d taken last night.
For now he’d have to settle for working with her and taking his cues from there. He’d been surprised she’d agreed to return to the lodge, but here she was, seeming eager to see what else they’d find in the suite.
He tossed his heavy tool bag through the hole in the wall and it landed inside with a thud, a crack, and a clatter.
Holly w
inced. “Think there’s a hole in the floor now?”
“We’re gonna find out.” Hugging a portable work light to his chest, he squeezed his way past the splintery edges of the paneling and into the suite. Holly followed, carrying a second light.
Number one on his to-do list: Pry the plywood away from the balcony door and windows, and let some sunlight in. If prying didn’t do the trick, he’d break out some more MMA moves and bust the boards off their nails. Either way, there’d be sunlight as long as the clouds gathering beyond the ridge played nice.
Even so, they’d still need the lights to illuminate the suite, especially the bathroom and closets. Bryce had picked them up at the hardware store, along with a variety of tools and useful items—hammers, pliers, a maul—hoping to handle whatever challenges they might encounter.
But no tool could help him if Holly came across pictures similar to the bulky wooden-framed one he’d found on the nightstand in the suite’s bedroom and slipped into his backpack yesterday. It was a full-color 8x10 candid photograph of a middle-aged man and woman, standing in front of the lodge’s huge pitched-glass window with the kick-ass view. Bryce guessed the woman to be late forties. Mostly fit and flashy, she wore a short red cocktail dress that showed too much leg and plenty of cleavage. Her dark hair was piled on her head, looking intentionally messy, with tendrils falling around her face. Large, glimmering earrings dangled from her ears—maybe diamond, he’d never know.
Unless they’re still in that jewelry box she left behind.
She was the kind of woman who caught men’s attention—like a colorful lure attracts fish. Pretty and doe-eyed, with lots of makeup. Looking a little too dressed up, and a little too willing. A couple of Bryce’s friends had fallen for that type of girl, but who was he to judge? He’d fallen for Whitney, and look where that had gotten him.
Bryce pegged her as the woman who had stayed in the suite—maybe even lived there. The only clue he had to her identity were the initials VRS engraved on the silver ring in the jewelry box—if the ring even belonged to her.