Heather wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”
Molly covered her face. “I’m such a loser.” Her hands muffled her voice. “Why did I think I could do this?”
“You can do this. You just need . . . practice.”
“I have a couple scheduled for fly-fishing at ten tomorrow.”
Heather winced. “At least it’s not rafting?”
“Dwight made it look so easy—leave with a rosy-cheeked batch of tourists and come back best friends. Not a hair out of place. Not a drop of water clinging to his scruffy beard. Limp-free and whistling some happy tune. Show-off.”
“Maybe he’ll come back.”
Molly shook her head. “He’s moving to Ohio as we speak. His mom needs full-time care immediately.”
“Maybe you can get someone else to teach you the ropes.”
Teach her the ropes. She’d been sole owner of the business for a year now, since Curtis’s passing. She should know the ropes, all of them.
“Maybe you can get some kind of certification?” Heather asked. “Is there a training program you can attend?”
“Certification isn’t required in Vermont. I just need to know what I’m doing so I don’t kill anyone. You don’t know anyone who can raft, fly-fish, and rock climb, do you?” Molly jerked upright and grabbed the schedule, flipping ahead a couple of days. “Oh my gosh. I have to learn to rock climb by Thursday.” She dropped her head to her hands. “I’m gonna kill somebody.”
“How about the guy from Explorations? Gage Turner. He could teach you.”
“He’s my competitor. Besides, he hates me.”
Heather laughed. “There’s not a soul on God’s green earth who hates you, Molly.”
“Well, he does. And he made it plenty hard to get this business off the ground.” Her late husband had had plenty to say about Gage Turner. She couldn’t remember the details, but his name brought up all kinds of bad feelings. There had been some kind of rivalry between him and Curtis in high school that had dragged into adulthood.
“Are you sure? He’s on the chamber board with me. He seems nice.”
“Nice enough to rescue a competitor? I doubt it. I just need to find someone to take Dwight’s place before I chase off all my customers.”
Molly had placed a help-wanted ad yesterday, the second Dwight had quit. An outdoorsy college student would fit the bill, but college wasn’t out yet. And when it was, Noah would be out of school. She couldn’t leave her son for hours at a time. He was only eight. But she couldn’t afford to pay much. Then again, she couldn’t afford more refunds either. She had to do something and quick, before she lost it all.
“If only we could find that gold,” Heather said.
“Really, Heather? You still believe Pearl Chambers hid a treasure?”
“Well, we never really followed through on Lia’s idea that it could be right in ‘the heart’ of your house.”
Molly’s husband, Curtis, had been the last surviving member of the Chambers clan, and Molly and her son, Noah, still lived in the family’s homestead.
“The eternal optimist.” Molly smiled at her friend. “You’re certainly welcome to do another search.”
“Friday after book club?”
“Why not.”
“Okay. I’ll pass the word to the girls.” Heather set her hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We are going to find it. I just know it. And when we do, all your troubles will be over.”
Gage Turner stepped into Smitten Expeditions and closed the door behind him. He scanned the refurbished space with the eye of someone in the business. Clean, wide-plank floors, good lighting, organized product. Pretty small, but nicely done. Rustic and rugged, visually appealing.
Somewhere a TV or radio was playing. The front desk was unattended, so he followed the noise to the open office door off to the side.
Molly Moore stood in the middle of the cramped office facing her desk, feet shoulder-width apart. Her slender right arm whipped back and forth through the air. She mumbled something to herself, repositioned, and repeated the motion.
“Whip it,” she whispered. “Just . . . whip the wrist. Nice and smooth.” She followed through the motion again, wiggling her cute little rear end as she repositioned.
Gage’s lips turned up. He leaned into the doorframe and cleared his throat.
She spun around, dropping her raised hand casually to run her fingers through her straight honey-colored hair. He’d never been close enough to notice the faint smattering of freckles that dotted her nose or the golden slivers that flecked her brown eyes.
“Nice technique.”
A pretty blush bloomed on her cheeks. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Crossed her arms over her chest. He decided he liked her flustered. A lot.
It didn’t last long, though. A second later her eyes snapped, and her delicate jaw clenched. She shut off the fly-fishing video playing on her laptop and turned to glare at him. “You could knock.”
Hmm. Feisty worked too. “Door was open.”
She lowered her chin. “Can I help you?”
He stepped into the office and extended his hand. “Gage Turner. Don’t think we’ve actually met.” She knew who he was. Smitten wasn’t that large, especially off-season.
She eyed his hand as if it were a snake. A venomous one. An instant later she took it. He’d known she would. Had somehow known she was incapable of being outright rude.
“Molly Moore,” she said begrudgingly.
Her hand felt small and delicate in his, but there was strength in the line of her jaw and determination in her eyes, in the set of her slender shoulders. Of course she was strong. After what she’d been through with her husband’s death, there was no doubt about that.
“Can I help you?” she asked again in a tone that belied her words.
“Actually, I was wondering if I could help you.”
Her pretty eyes narrowed on him as she pursed her generous lips. “Heather,” she squeezed out.
“Excuse me?”
She rounded her desk, flipped a book shut, and shuffled a random stack of forms. “Listen. I don’t need your”—her fingers formed air quotes—“help. I’m perfectly capable of running my business, so thank you very much for the offer, but I told Heather I was handling it, and I am. Good day.”
“Heather . . .”
She sighed hard. “DeMeritt? The beautiful woman who coerced you to step in and save the day?”
“Listen, I don’t know—”
“I’m sure you mean well . . .” She tweaked a dark brow, calling serious doubt to that claim. “But I’ve got it covered. So thanks, but no thanks.”
She didn’t like him much, he’d known that. Seemed pretty unfair, given that he’d never said two words to her before today, but her late husband’s dislike had apparently rubbed off.
He should walk away. He should. She didn’t want his help. But he couldn’t seem to forget the scene in his shop yesterday. “I could take your fly-fishing tour.”
Her lips parted. He took the opportunity, knowing he might not get another. “And now that your schedule for the rest of the week has somewhat, ah, cleared up, I can help—”
Her eyes narrowed again. “How did you know that?”
He put his hands out, palms up. “Just trying to help.”
“How did you know that?” she asked again.
How did she pull off cute with a foot tap and a glare? “Your rafting group came to my place after they left here yesterday.”
She wilted like a week-old daisy, her shoulders sinking, the corners of her lips falling. Her eyes went flat. “Oh.”
He wished he could take it back. He hadn’t meant to humiliate her. “Hey, happens to the best of us.”
She grabbed a stack of trifolds and an inkpad and began stamping them. “It was an . . . unfortunate event. But I’m hiring someone to replace my tour guide, so everything’s fine. Thanks for checking.” Ink. Stamp. Shuffle.
He’d gone about this all wrong. She’d already accep
ted help from so many others, but they weren’t him.
“Well. If there’s anything I can do—”
“There isn’t.” She gave him a tight smile and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Thanks anyway.”
Always allow a gentleman to have the upper hand.
PEARL CHAMBERS, The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship
CHAPTER TWO
You look exhausted, honey.” Lia sank into the stuffed chair beside Molly and blew on her fresh cup of coffee. She had a cobweb hanging from her auburn hair, and dust streaked her V-neck T-shirt.
Molly knew she should check on Noah, but she couldn’t seem to get up. He’d been asleep since she’d returned from book club and had somehow slept through their treasure hunt. “I’m fine. Just disappointed.”
Abby flopped onto the tweed recliner. “We searched every inch.”
“Except Noah’s room. I’ll do that tomorrow.” She looked around the living room. She should get up and turn off all the lights. The place looked like the train depot at noon, and she had her electric bill to think of.
“It has to be here somewhere,” Lia said. “There were house metaphors all the way through Love and Courtship. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Heather brushed the dust from her dark hair, setting her hands on her hips. “Well, we’ve done everything we can for tonight. Don’t worry, Mol, we won’t give up.”
“There’s still the barn and outbuildings,” Lia said.
“And the well,” Abby said. “People used to hide things in wells, didn’t they?”
“Yeah, dead bodies,” Molly said. The night had left her feeling hopeless. No treasure. No tour guide. No customers. Things were really looking up.
“How are things going at the store?” Abby asked.
Molly nodded. “Fine. Good.” Maybe if she kept saying it, it would be true.
“Liar.” Heather softened the word with a smile, then perched on the arm of Molly’s chair. “She hasn’t found a replacement for Dwight yet.”
“Oh dear,” Lia said. “How’s that going?”
Molly gave an indelicate laugh. “Don’t ask.”
“She got an offer from Gage Turner.”
“Wait. What did I miss?” Abby shoved aside the worn copy of Love and Courtship and raised her brows at Molly. “What kind of offer?”
“An offer of help,” Molly said, then muttered under her breath, “If that’s what you call it.”
“Isn’t he a competitor?” Lia asked.
“Exactly.” Molly gave a sharp nod to punctuate the sentiment. “He owns that big tour place on Main Street.”
Lia pushed her hair over her shoulder. “It does sound a little fishy.”
“Hello . . .” Abby’s eyes toggled between them. “Have you seen Gage Turner?”
Heather waved her away. “Molly needs help, like, yesterday. Seriously, Molly, you have to consider his offer. Especially after the rafting incident.”
“There was an incident?” Lia asked.
Molly groaned. “Don’t want to talk about it.”
“You should accept his help,” Abby said. “Definitely.”
Molly looked between Heather and Abby. “Haven’t you seen You’ve Got Mail? I’m barely hanging on by a thread. I don’t need some Joe Fox putting the final nail in my business coffin.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “What is it with you and that movie?”
“Honey.” Heather set a hand on Molly’s arm. “It can’t get much worse.”
The words made her chest ache. Curtis had worked so hard to get the business up and running. The whole community had pitched in after his death. It shouldn’t be this hard. I’m floundering here, God. Can’t you see that? Guilt stabbed her at the selfish thought. God had helped her through the most difficult year of her life. Who was she to ask for more?
“Has anyone applied for the position?” Lia asked.
“Not a one.”
“But things are okay, right?” Lia tilted her head and gave Molly that look that always melted her resolve. “Financially?”
Molly traded a look with Heather. So she hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with the other girls. She was so tired of charity. When would she stand on her own two feet? It was so humiliating.
Not as humiliating as losing everything, though.
“You should tell them, Mol.”
Abby frowned. “Tell us what?”
Molly took a deep breath and pried her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “I may lose the business.”
“What?” Lia leaned forward. “I thought things were going okay.”
“And spring is here,” Abby said. “Your busy season.”
Heather rubbed Molly’s shoulder. “Winter was a little hard on her.”
Molly sighed. Might as well get it all out. “Things were worse than Curtis let on.”
“Worse as in . . .”
“The business was in the red when he passed. He took a loan against our house to do all that refurbishing at the store. I guess he thought it would draw more tourists. Only it didn’t.”
Lia gasped.
“And he never told you?” Abby said.
Molly felt the anger building inside again. Her husband had forged her name on the loan documents and swept it all under the rug. Was it any wonder she was lacking in the trust department these days?
“With everyone’s help, things started turning around last year,” Molly said. “We broke even, which was a miracle.”
“But winter took its toll,” Heather said. “And now her only guide is gone. So, see, she needs help ASAP. It’s not just the business but the house that’s on the line.”
“Oh no,” Lia said. “It’s been in the family so long.”
“We have got to find that gold,” Abby said.
“We will,” Heather said. “I just know it.”
Lia nudged her shoulder. “Maybe you should accept Gage’s help.”
Molly shot her a look. So much for having Lia in her corner.
“Well, he is kind of cute.”
“All I’m saying,” Abby said.
“What if he has nefarious intentions?” Molly said. “What then? How can I trust him?”
“Honey,” Heather said, “he has lots of guides working for him. Maybe he’ll lend you one until you find a replacement. Or have one of them teach you the ropes. You’re kind of in a corner here. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“With my luck? I’ll drown in the Green River.”
“And . . . problem solved,” Abby said.
Three sets of eyes darted her way.
“Kidding!” Abby set her tea down. “Listen, I think you should take him up on it. You can learn this stuff. Think how much money you’d save if you could do the tours yourself. Office help is cheap.”
She was right. Dwight was good, but he hadn’t come cheap. Molly had paid for his benefits too. If she could learn all the guide stuff, maybe that would solve her deeper financial problem. Still . . .
“Can you really see me taking on the great outdoors?” Molly asked.
Heather wrapped an arm around Molly’s shoulders. “Girl, I can see you doing anything you put your mind to.”
Molly stepped into the store, her hands shaking. Somehow this had seemed so much easier the other night after the unfruitful treasure hunt. The girls had left her feeling all Annie Oakley. But now, looking around the huge interior of Explorations, she wondered if she wasn’t in way over her head.
It was impossible not to compare Gage’s shop with her own. Excitement sizzled in the air. Customers bustled around readying for trips, choosing equipment, signing paperwork.
Upbeat music flowed from invisible speakers somewhere up in the rafters. Employees in khakis and logoed polos greeted customers. The place smelled like adventure and money.
I am so out of my league.
Maybe Gage Turner was underhanded. Maybe he was sneaky and dishonest. But the man obviously knew how to run a business. Or maybe he ran it in a way t
hat she never would.
“Can I help you?” A young blonde beamed a smile, baring a dimple.
“Is Gage Turner in? I mean, if he’s busy, that’s fine, I don’t have—”
“In his office.” Suzy Q gestured toward a hallway at the back. “First door on the left.”
“I don’t want to bother—”
“Go on back. He won’t mind.” With a parting smile, she peeled off to assist a customer with hiking shoes.
Molly regarded the hallway with a frown. Now or never, Molly. Just get this over with.
She skirted customers and racks of expensive outerwear. When she came to the open doorway, she paused. The office ceiling vaulted over a rugged oak desk. Matching cabinets lined the ecru walls, and a masculine rug hugged the plank floor. His window overlooked the scenic river. Of course it did.
Gage was hunched over his desk, pen in hand. He punched numbers on a calculator, wearing a frown surely caused by concentration, not distress.
He was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that. His dark, tousled hair looked as if he’d just woken, and his lids covered a pair of blue eyes that probably made women melt into a puddle at his feet. The perpetual five o’clock shadow didn’t hurt either, nor did the cleft in his chin. He was rugged, smart, handsome, and probably pretty darn rich too.
She mentally added the list of adjectives Curtis had supplied, none of them good. She’d have to stay on her toes where this one was concerned.
Drawing a deep breath, she tapped her knuckles on the oak doorframe.
His head came up, his brows rising expectantly. Upon seeing her, they fell. His lips slackened before tipping up in a cautious smile.
“Am I interrupting?”
He set his pen down and straightened in his chair. “No. Come on in.”
She stepped into the office, leaving the door open. Something masculine with a touch of pine filled her nostrils.
“Have a seat.”
Molly perched on the edge of the cushy chair opposite his desk, clutching her bag to her stomach. “Nice place you have here.”
Smitten Book Club Page 20