Mountain Country Courtship

by Glynna Kaye

  “To the church. There’s a rehearsal for the grade-schoolers’ presentation on Sunday morning. A Labor Day theme.”

  “This will just take a few minutes.”

  Walking her to the door and out on the front steps, he scrolled through the photos on his phone until he found the ones he’d taken of his latest renderings of the inn. “I want you to take a look at these. Give me your honest feedback before I forward them to my mother tonight.”

  It had been eating at him that he’d wounded Lillian’s feelings when he’d bluntly rejected her ideas. Although she denied it, he hadn’t missed the flash of hurt in her eyes.

  She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and took the phone from him, her fingers gently brushing his. Then her eyes widened as she scrolled through the photos. He’d worked until midnight, his original concept taking on a softer, less bold and masculine feel. The simplicity of line was retained, but lighter tones of nature set off occasional pops of florals—a footstool, tailored throw pillows, boxed window toppers, a framed painting. Gone was the chrome, replaced by oak.

  “What do you think?”

  “I absolutely love this. You’ve taken the best of both our ideas and combined them in a way I’d never have thought could be done. Each guest room has a unique charm, so comfortable-looking. You are amazing, Denny Hunter.”

  “I like to think so.”

  She stared at him openmouthed. Then he laughed.

  “Just kidding. So you like the concept now?”

  “Oh, yes. Aunt Viola will be pleased we were able to come to a consensus—thanks to you.”

  “It wasn’t all my doing. I merely drove the felt tips.”

  She made a cute face. “I was way off the mark with my ideas, wasn’t I?”

  “Not so far off.”

  She tipped her head to look at him doubtfully over the top of her glasses. “What part of overabundance of pastels and reeking with florals did you overlook?”

  He grinned. “Maybe you did get a tad carried away. But I took it to the other extreme.”

  Squinting one eye, she held up her hand, her thumb and forefinger about a half inch apart. “Maybe a tad.”

  “Agreed.”

  With a laugh, she pointed to the screen. “Look there, over the bedroom door—a horseshoe with a ribbon on it.”

  “I hoped you’d notice that.”

  “Aunt Vi will get such a kick out of it.” With a last lingering look, she handed him his phone. “I’m awed at how you melded our diverse ideas into something extraordinary.”

  “Then with your blessing, off they go for my mother’s seal of approval so we can get moving full speed ahead.”

  Feeling pretty proud of himself at the moment—that he’d smoothed the sharp edges off their last meeting—he’d just put away his phone when he sensed Lillian tense. Turning, he followed the trajectory of her gaze. Across the street a teenage boy, hands tucked under his armpits, was bobbing along like a regal potentate of poultry.

  Chicken Man. Again.

  “What is wrong with that kid?”

  Lillian grasped his arm, turning him toward her. “He thinks he’s funny and is trying to get attention.”

  Frowning, he glanced back again.

  Her grip tightened. “If you don’t pay him any mind, he’ll move on. Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he annoys you.”

  With effort, he managed to keep his back turned to the little twerp. “Can’t he find anything better to do? Or is that a prime example of what happens to you when you live in a tiny town too long?”

  Or maybe, like him, the kid didn’t sleep well, and it had made him loopy. For the fourth night in a row, Denny had lain awake for hours. It was way too quiet around here at night—he didn’t hear so much as a single cricket. Or maybe that sleeplessness had more to do with being unable to keep his thoughts off the lovely Lillian? What was wrong with him, anyway? She wasn’t his type at all.

  “It has nothing to do with small towns,” Lillian said, “and everything to do with wanting to make a nuisance of himself.”

  “He’s nailed that one.”

  Denny joined her as she headed down the steps and walked her to her car, a Honda CR-V. “Before you head out, you might like to know your aunt won.”

  Her brow crinkled. “Won what?”

  “Her pick of contractors. I’m going with Todd Samuels.”

  He wasn’t sure how to read her expression, but the tinge of pink in her cheeks said more than he wanted to know. Had she dated the guy in the past? Wanted to date him now?

  She unlocked the car, and he opened the driver’s-side door for her.

  “He’ll do good work for you, Denny.”

  “Keep your fingers crossed that he hasn’t picked up another job since we talked to him on Tuesday. If he has, I’m up a creek without a contractor.”

  And chained to Hunter Ridge.

  “Knowing Todd, he’ll figure something out even if he has to burn the midnight oil to juggle two jobs at once. He isn’t afraid of hard work. You’ll get your money’s worth out of him.”

  And a front-row seat to a flirtation he’d prefer not to witness.

  She slipped into the seat behind the steering wheel. “So where are you off to now?”

  “I’ll call Todd first. Then probably go back to the Hideaway. They’re getting ready for that Labor Day charity barbecue Taylor sold me a ticket to. The place is humming with preparations, and I feel like I should be helping out, not standing around on the sidelines. That is, if they’ll have me.”

  “Of course they’ll have you, silly. You’re a Hunter.”

  “A long-lost Hunter.”

  “Once a Hunter, always a Hunter, I imagine. You’re part of an amazing family, Denny. Everyone—or most everyone—around here admires them. God-fearing, hardworking, family-comes-first folks.”

  “My mother never fit in with them. Doubtful I ever will, either.”

  Her expression softened. “You said earlier this week in connection to Taylor’s situation that you know what it’s like to feel set aside. To feel like you’re in the way. Is that coming from the Gyles side or the Hunter side? Or both?”

  He should have kept his mouth shut.

  “It’s that I was pulled out of Hunter Ridge when I was two, so no relationships built there.” Dad, having started a second family with Vickie within two years of the divorce, hadn’t made that much effort to reach out to him, probably thinking his ex-wife and her new husband had the parenting bases covered. “My stepfather already had a son and two daughters. So Elden Gyles had found his golden boy in my stepbrother, Vic, well before I came along.”

  Denny hoped that didn’t come out sounding as bitter as he thought it might have. But he’d made his mark through hard work and unflagging loyalty. Earned the respect of those around him—including, he’d believed, his stepfather. Which was what made Vic’s promotion such a blow.

  Determined to get the conversation off himself, Denny cleared his throat before Lillian could respond. “You said something, didn’t you, about your own parents not being real hands-on?”

  * * *

  He remembered that? So she must have said it aloud at some point. She’d found him surprisingly easy to talk to, and had likely let down her guard too quickly.

  “They’re both motivational speakers. They write articles and books and conduct workshops across the country and around the world.” Kind of ironic that they’d made good money and received acclaim for telling other people how to get their acts together, yet their own daughters hungered for more attention than the allotted fifteen minutes a day of “quality time.”

  “No wonder you moved around a lot. GylesStyle Inns sometimes brings in motivational speakers—would I recognize their names?”

  “Probably. Ilsa and Archer Keene.”

  His eyes widened. “Wh
oa.”

  Obviously his mind was trying to put two and two together, attempting to figure out how with “celebrity” parents, she’d ended up a part-time librarian in what he considered Podunk, Arizona.

  “Yep, that’s the scoop. But I’ve got to run. Taylor’s been faithfully practicing her piece for the program this week, and I don’t want her to miss the rehearsal.”

  “Then I’ll talk to you later.”

  He shut her door, but she immediately turned the key in the ignition and rolled down the window.

  “Will you be at church on Sunday? I know she’d love for her favorite demolition partner to see her recite. They have a song, too.”

  “Um...”

  “You don’t have to. I just thought—”

  Thought what? As engaging as he was, she had no business setting up situations where she’d have to spend more time than necessary with Denny Hunter. Like Cameron, he was city through and through, and didn’t try to hide his ridicule of Hunter Ridge like her former fiancé had done. Besides, the more he interacted with townspeople, the more likely he’d hear about her bye-bye bride episode. Which might leave him less inclined to cooperate with the renovation.

  “Thanks for the invitation. Let’s see how it goes, okay? You know, after I find out how I can help at the Hideaway for the charity barbecue. I imagine Saturday and Sunday will be all hands on deck for a big deal like that on Monday.”

  Knowing the Hunters, they’d be up at the crack of dawn and working until well after dark—but filling the pews for a time of worship when the church doors opened.

  “Will you be coming by the inn tomorrow?”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Then I’ll see you on Monday when you make good use of that barbecue ticket.”

  With a wave, she backed out, noting thankfully that sometime during the conversation, Randy Gray had vanished.

  How long was Cameron’s brother going to keep up with the mockery? Surely he’d tire of it. He was fourteen, and wouldn’t he be taking a serious interest in girls pretty soon? Who’d want to date a guy who clucked?

  Once at the church, having picked up Taylor on the way, she dropped her off in a Sunday-school room serving as a staging area. Settling into a polished pew near the front of the auditorium, Lillian mulled over her last encounter with Denny.

  To say that she’d been surprised when he showed up at the library would be an understatement. She also couldn’t believe how he’d taken the time to bring both of their ideas for the interior together in such a winning combination. He was a much more agreeable—and kind—man than her impressions the first day or two had led her to believe. He could have insisted on his own ideas and let that be that.

  She hadn’t been at the church long when Pastor Garrett McCrae slipped into the seat beside her.

  If only she and Cameron had taken premarital counseling from Garrett instead of asking her fiancé’s college buddy—now a minister—to fly in and officiate a wedding in the pines. Surely they’d both have had their eyes opened and gotten their heads out of the clouds well before that disastrous day.

  “When I saw Taylor after Sunday school last weekend, she told me Annalise had dropped by on Saturday.” He kept his voice low. “How’d that go?”

  “Like always.”

  “Hard.”

  She nodded. “I love my sister, but sometimes...”

  “You want to strangle her.”

  That was what she loved about Garrett, and what made him a good pastor to his flock. He was so real. “I do.”

  “You’d mentioned a while back that you were thinking about taking legal action on Taylor’s behalf to see if you could get custody.”

  “I’m not exactly in an ideal situation to pursue that. Single. Part-time job. Mooching housing from an elderly aunt. And that farce with Cameron left me looking like the town buffoon.”

  “Come on now.”

  “That’s what the lawyer I talked to said. And he’s right. On the surface, what do I have to offer that’s better than what Taylor’s mother provides? We both keep her periodically, not full-time. Neither of us owns the roof over our head. At least Annalise provides a male role model a good deal of the time, which is more than I can claim.”

  Garrett leaned forward, his steady gray eyes intent. “Lillian, if you think those men who come and go in your sister’s life are role models, we need to have a long talk.”

  She made a face. “Oh, I know. I’m just torn right now. Taylor is obviously unhappy. She’s not developing friendships, despite my making an effort to get her to playdates and special events where she can get to know kids her age. Like this rehearsal.”

  Lillian nodded to the front of the church, where the children had filed out to await further direction. “Look at her, Garrett. Standing off to the side, waiting her turn to recite, but not engaged. Not really present. I think she’s afraid to connect with people, knowing how badly it’s going to hurt when her mom uproots her again.”

  “You moved around a lot as a kid, too, and didn’t put down much in the way of roots, either.”

  She’d never been a wild child, though, like Annalise. Or Garrett. She could still vaguely remember the days when he sported a ponytail and a questionable reputation.

  “But I had Aunt Viola. And my books. And God. Although I didn’t get to come here as often as I’d have liked, I did sink my roots down in Hunter Ridge. Annalise hated to read and didn’t like coming to Aunt Vi’s, where she’d have to behave herself. She despised anything having to do with God. Saw Him as the big spoilsport in the sky.”

  Garrett nodded silently, and she knew he was praying somewhere down deep inside. He wasn’t one to offer quick fixes and platitudes.

  “Garrett!” someone called from the platform. “You’re up next.”

  He stood, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. “This will work out, Lillian. I don’t know when or how, but I do know God loves you and Taylor. And Annalise, too.”

  He’d just reached the podium when, to Lillian’s shock, a smile spread across Taylor’s face, and she started excitedly hopping up and down as she looked to the back of the church.

  Lillian swiftly turned to glimpse Denny coming down the side aisle. He lifted a hand in greeting to her niece, the index finger of his other hand pressed to his lips in a shushing motion. Looking chagrined at drawing attention to himself, he slipped into the spot Garrett had vacated.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she whispered.

  “I thought since I probably won’t attend Sunday, coming to the rehearsal might make it up to Taylor.”

  “Look at her. What do you think?”

  Up front, her niece had grown still, but a smile beamed across the vast space in Denny’s direction. He grinned back at her, and it seemed it was all Taylor could do to focus on the woman who was lining them up on the portable risers.

  “I think I made her day.”

  “You think? You made her week. Maybe the entire month.”

  They gave their full attention to the proceedings, Taylor focusing solely on Denny when she recited her piece with more gusto than she’d ever exhibited while practicing at home.

  But while it was thrilling to see her niece so exuberant, reminiscent of her toddler years, warning bells went off in Lillian’s head. Taylor had connected with Denny. Not Garrett. Not the father of one of her schoolmates. Why? As much as she’d originally have been glad to be rid of him, Denny wouldn’t be around long. How would that impact Taylor?

  When the children were dismissed, her niece came charging down the aisle, straight for Denny. “Mister!”

  For a moment Lillian thought she’d fling herself into his arms, but she abruptly halted in front of him and stood there uncertainly, looking from Denny to her and back again.

  “You came,” she said quietly, considerably more subdued. But happiness filled her eyes
. “I didn’t know you were coming. You didn’t tell me.”

  He patted her arm. “I didn’t know myself. It’s a surprise for us both.”

  She giggled. “Was it a surprise for you, too, Aunt Lillian?”

  “A big surprise.” She had no idea Denny would have such a soft heart for the little girl.

  As they headed for the exit, she looked down at Taylor. “Where’s your sweater?”

  She shrugged. “In the Sunday-school room?”

  “I’ll get it. You stay with Denny. I’ll meet you both outside.”

  Navigating the maze of hallways, Lillian was nearing a corner when she heard her name spoken in a hushed female tone. Instinctively she halted, out of sight.

  “Can you believe it? She’s caught herself another one. And a mighty fine-looking one, although Cameron was plenty nice to look at, as well.”

  “I saw them standing together outside the library earlier. Heard she wants to snag Jeri’s spot when she retires. I hope the library advisory board looks long and hard at that application.”

  “You know they will. Cameron’s grandmother is on the board.”

  “I wonder if Lillian will throw this latest catch back, too?”

  A snicker.

  “You’d think a gal who comes to church regularly and claims to know God wouldn’t be so fickle. Poor Viola.”

  “Viola? Poor new boyfriend, in my book. Who is he, anyway?”

  Barely able to breathe, Lillian strained to hear. But the voices faded as the women headed in the opposite direction to the fellowship hall.

  She pressed shaking hands to her mouth.

  They’re laughing at me. Making fun of me. Doubting my suitability for the librarian position.

  Momentarily frozen in her tracks, every fiber of her being nevertheless wanted to run. Run as far as her legs would carry her from Hunter Ridge and gossiping tongues. She hadn’t recognized the voices in the whispery exchange. But maybe that was for the best. Could she ever face them, knowing how they felt about her? Judged her? Mocked her?