Mountain Country Courtship

by Glynna Kaye

  “You were there for me all right.” He caught a hint of amusement in her tone. Was the kiss lingering in her thoughts as it was in his?

  “Anytime.”

  Her head jerked in his direction. Then she laughed. “Don’t tempt me.”

  He laughed, too, enjoying the sound of their shared mirth, the easing of the tension that followed those more intimate moments.

  It wasn’t that far to the inn, and they spoke little as they strolled through town. Once there, he declined to come inside, suddenly feeling restless and a need to be alone with his thoughts. His feelings.

  But unexpectedly Lillian thrust out her hand. For a shake.

  “Friends, Denny?”

  What idiot had proposed that as a solution to the attraction sizzling between them?

  She was far more sensible than he was. Either that, or an amazing kiss that still left his heart vibrating wasn’t as amazing to her as it had been to him, hadn’t moved her heart and soul as it had his.

  He nodded and grasped her hand, then immediately released it.

  “Taylor will be back.” He felt as if he needed to leave on a word of hope. “You can count on it.”

  She gave him an unsteady smile, then slipped inside the inn.

  Drawing in a sustaining breath, he retrieved his vehicle, then headed back to the Hideaway, choosing to take it slow down the graveled road, windows down and the cool night air hitting him full in the face.

  What had gotten into him tonight?

  Lillian’s niece had, for all intents and purposes, been abducted, stolen away. No, maybe she wasn’t in any kind of immediate danger, but Lillian loved her like a daughter, and her heart was breaking.

  Yet he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability tonight. He wasn’t proud of himself for that. At least she didn’t seem to take offense at the kiss. Wasn’t holding it against him.

  When he’d stopped by the house to find Lillian gone earlier, Viola explained what triggered Annalise’s eruption. Taylor had shared with her that Lillian was going to be married. That the couple would be getting custody of her. Vi suspected she’d overheard her talking to Lillian about Todd and built herself a fantasy, but he knew the miniature matchmaker had another man in mind for Aunt Lillian.

  Him.

  That was never to be, though. Couldn’t be. Not even to make a little girl happy. Maybe in another time and place, under different circumstances. That kiss they’d shared told him there was potential there. Sweeter than sweet, it made him realize what he’d been missing out on in his other relationships. With Corrine in particular, whom he’d come close to marrying.

  Lillian was right, though. His future was in the Bay Area at GylesStyle—if he didn’t get booted out the door—not in the town the pretty librarian was rooted to. She knew him better than he knew himself.

  How would he go about earning a living around here, anyway? Scoop cones at Bealer’s Ice Cream Emporium? Serve up hot meals at Rusty’s Grill? Paint pretty pictures to sell on consignment at one of the art galleries? He didn’t know the first thing about hunting and horses, so he’d be pretty worthless to family members running the Hideaway.

  He’d be like a fish out of water here.

  And what would he find to do in his spare time besides twiddle his thumbs? The closest thing to a music concert since he’d been here was that country-and-western band that played on Labor Day. And there were zero professional sports teams, unless you drove hours to Phoenix. He lived for a Giants, Warriors or 49ers game. Couldn’t get enough of them.

  Although he could admit he’d gotten a few kicks at Taylor’s soccer games.

  Instead of heading straight to his cabin, he parked the Porsche in front of the Inn at Hunter’s Hideaway, intending to order carryout to cart back to his place. But he’d only shut off the headlights and reached for the door handle when his phone vibrated.

  His foolish hopes rose that it might be Lillian saying she’d thought the whole “just friends” thing through and—

  But it was Vic. The last person on the planet he wanted to talk to right now. Should he let it go to voice mail? Return it later? Naw, better get this over with.

  “Yo, Vic.”

  “Den, do you have a minute?”

  “A few.”

  “Hey, I know since I stepped into the VP slot we haven’t had time to sit down and discuss your role in the company. So I wanted to touch base with you about an opening that’s recently come up. Something I think you’d be a good fit for.”

  Denny’s spirits rose. He’d stayed out of Vic’s way for over a month, hadn’t interfered even when Craig had been let go. Was this the opportunity with the company that Elden Gyles had alluded to, should Denny keep out of the limelight?

  “What do you have?”

  “It won’t be announced until tomorrow, but you may have heard Barry Swoffard resigned this afternoon?”

  A muscle in Denny’s neck tightened. Barry had managed the Midwest region from Kansas City for almost a decade—one of the many regions under Denny’s oversight. No way would Barry willingly resign. He loved his job. Had he been another victim of Vic’s housecleaning?

  “No, I hadn’t heard that. That’s unexpected. What happened?” Why hadn’t Barry called him?

  “He wants to spread his wings elsewhere. So does that spot interest you?”

  That was what Vic had in mind for him? A demotion? Expulsion from the San Francisco office altogether? That wasn’t what Denny envisioned the dangled carrot to be when he’d buckled under Elden Gyles’s mandate to renovate his mother’s inn and lie low.

  “There’s plenty of opportunity in the Midwest region that hasn’t been tapped,” Vic continued. “We need fresh blood in that role. Imagination. Creativity. Someone who knows the industry. In other words, you.”

  Did Vic think he was selling this opportunity to him? That Denny couldn’t see right through what was really going on? He drew a breath, ready to explode and deliver his honest opinion. He and Vic had been heading for a showdown since the beginning of the year. It was about time Vic got the earful he deserved.

  Don’t burn your bridges yet.

  “Den? You still there?”

  “Just thinking.” The tension inexplicably ebbed out of him as his mind raced, exploring his options. Something had checked him, and he didn’t want to blindly push ahead without knowing what it meant, or do something he might later come to regret. “If it’s okay with you, I have a few more weeks here on that personal project my mother and Elden have me working on. I can get back with you then. Maybe with a few innovative ideas for the Midwest region.”

  “Oh?” Obviously Denny’s response wasn’t what he’d expected. No doubt he’d hoped his younger stepbrother’s objections would be the needed excuse to deliver a “my way or the highway” speech and fire him on the spot like he’d done Craig and probably Barry. Would such a move have Elden’s blessing? Was the proud papa giving his egotistical son free rein? Denny sure wouldn’t go whining to Elden about this latest turn of events.

  “Well, that would be great,” Vic finished lamely. “Get in touch with me when you’re ready.”

  “Will do. And, Vic?”

  “Yeah?”

  Denny couldn’t help but smile. “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. Give Corrine my best.”

  Chapter Twelve

  To Lillian’s relief, Denny had hung in there on the Pinewood Inn—and for the next several weeks he, Todd’s crew, and assorted plumbers, electricians and stonemasons pushed ahead on the inn. They were slightly ahead of schedule, enabling the inspectors to do their business almost a week before the team’s targeted deadline—Barbie’s October wedding.

  Now they awaited word on whether or not the inspection had been approved and they could finish up. But in past weeks, the days hadn’t been without setbacks—delayed or damaged deliveries, a death in
the family of one of Todd’s crew, which took her away from the project. Installation of bathroom fixtures taking longer than expected. A countertop that had been cut wrong and had to be returned for a trim.

  And no word from Annalise. Not so much as a postcard to let her and Aunt Viola know where they were. That they were okay.

  She’d held tightly to Denny’s adamant insistence that Annalise would again tire of parenthood and seek out her big sister. But what if she’d found someone else to entrust her daughter to?

  Was Taylor eating right? Getting enough sleep? Had she been enrolled in school? Her teacher in Hunter Ridge had been devastated to lose her so early in the year. After the first week following her departure, Lillian had put away the birthday-party decorations. But wrapped packages—from her, Aunt Vi and Denny—still lay on the rollaway bed Taylor slept on in Lillian’s room. Her heartfelt prayers flowed constantly to a God who cared.

  “You doing okay?” On his way to the storage room to drop off another big box of new bath towels, Denny stopped in the remodeled kitchen, where Lillian was putting shelf liner in the cabinets. Yes, it was premature, but it gave her something to do to occupy her mind.

  “Pretty good.” As well as could be expected, she supposed, when every time she heard a child giggle or glimpsed a photo of Taylor on the fridge, her stomach knotted.

  Denny had kept pretty much to himself since that kiss in the park that she still relived over and over, but he did check in with her on occasion to offer a word of encouragement. She could tell Taylor was on his mind, too.

  “I know you’re holding your breath waiting for word on the librarian position.” He shifted the oversize box in his arms. “They’re taking their sweet time. Keeping you in limbo.”

  “Maybe Cameron’s grandmother is holding the advisory board hostage until they come around to see things her way.”

  “You thought the interview went well, though, right?”

  “It seemed to. Mrs. Gray was all business—at least, no personal potshots. She probably saved those for behind the scenes.”

  He placed the box on the floor and leaned back against the new kitchen island. Folded his arms.

  “Not that it’s my business...and feel free to tell me to bug off. But how are you going to hold down a full-time librarian position and manage the inn, too?”

  “Aunt Vi is the inn’s manager, not me.”

  “I know you’d like me to believe that, Lillian, but I’m not swallowing it. In August I had my doubts, but you reassured me, and my mother certainly wanted to believe it. But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

  “She’s making wonderful headway. If you could have seen her earlier this year—”

  “But it’s been a good nine months since her fall. Not only do I have two eyes in my head, but I know enough about broken hips to know that only a fraction of those who suffer one make anything close to a full comeback. So I’m asking you again. How do you intend to hold down the library position and manage the inn?”

  Lillian put down the shelf liner. “You’re not thinking of telling your mother not to renew Aunt Vi’s contract, are you? Of advising her to hire someone else to manage the Pinewood?”

  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  “I can do it, Denny.”

  “How?”

  “Well, I’ve been doing it, haven’t I?”

  “While working at the library only part-time.”

  “There’s not that big of a difference between thirty and forty hours a week. I won’t be working on weekends, which is when the inn will be its busiest. In the winter months, when it’s not right around the holidays, the place will probably be close to empty. Work here will be fairly seasonal. And Aunt Vi can still keep the books, fix breakfast and make people feel at home.”

  “Who will tend her garden that keeps people booking events?”

  “I will. I enjoy doing that.”

  “In all your spare time.”

  He pushed off from the island and lifted the box again. “I’m not saying it can’t be done, Lillian—or that you won’t give it all you’ve got. But I am concerned. My mother invested a great deal of money in renovating this place. I’d hate to see it bring no more return on her investment now than it has since she first acquired it from my dad.”

  He deposited the box in the storage room, then headed back toward the front of the inn. She followed, determined to continue their conversation—then halted when she saw her aunt coming through the front door. Saw her through Denny’s eyes. The limp. The balance issues. The sometimes-obvious fatigue.

  But Lillian also saw the resilience, the sparkle in her eyes that said the game wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

  And Lillian wasn’t about to let Denny call a halt to it prematurely.

  “How was the ladies’ tea, Aunt Vi?”

  “Delightful. I wish you could come sometime.”

  “I—”

  She heard Denny’s phone vibrate. He pulled it out and held it to his ear.

  “I’d love to go sometime, Aunt Vi. Maybe when I can—”

  Denny held up his hand for silence as he listened intently. His bright-eyed gaze swept over her and her aunt. “Yeah, yeah, they’re both right here beside me waiting to hear the inspection verdict.”

  Aunt Vi held up her hands, fingers crossed, as she exchanged an anxious look with Lillian.

  “Sure. Sure.” Denny nodded, and then his brows lowered. “I see. Sorry to hear that, Todd. Know you are, too.”

  Looking down at the floor, avoiding their anxious gazes, he listened to what must be a rambling discourse on Todd’s end.

  Lillian took her aunt’s hand as the conversation wrapped up. From what they could hear, things didn’t sound good.

  “Appreciate the call, Todd.”

  Still not looking at them, Denny slipped the phone into his pocket. “Well, ladies, I’m afraid I have some news to report.”

  * * *

  When he was certain he could keep a straight face, Denny looked at Lillian and Viola, who were both staring at him, hope fading from their eyes.

  Were he and Todd troublemakers or what?

  “I have to report—” unable to keep them going any longer, he grinned “—that the inn passed inspection with flying colors!”

  “What? You, you—” Lillian doubled up her fist like she was going to sock him. He deserved it. Todd, too. “You rat! How can you guys do that to us?”

  “So it’s a go?” Vi wasn’t taking any chances that she’d misunderstood.

  “It’s a go. A few minor things the inspectors would like us to do, but they’ve signed off and we’re set to move toward our deadline.”

  Viola clapped. “In time for Barbie’s wedding and reception.”

  “Woo-hoo!” Lillian high-fived her aunt. “And now there will be a room fit for a queen if she and her two bridesmaids want to dress here before the ceremony.”

  “That’s the plan, anyway,” he warned, feeling that he had to use caution despite the relief flowing through him. As much as he’d enjoyed the work, he hadn’t realized how on edge this thing had made him. “The interior walls and ceilings may have been textured, but they still need to be painted and window treatments hung. And after that the new furnishings have to be brought in from the local warehouse where they’ve been stored. But we have five days before the wedding to do as much of it as we can, and the painters are coming in tomorrow. It will be tight and we may burn the midnight oil, but I think we’ll get ’er done.”

  “We will,” both women said in unison. Then hugged each other.

  More than anything in the world, he wanted to pick Lillian up, swing her around and plant a kiss on her now-smiling mouth. But he restrained himself. “Friends” shouldn’t get carried away.

  “Would you ladies do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight? In hop
es of good news today, I reserved a table at the Inn at Hunter’s Hideaway.”

  Both women nodded their agreement, and the evening ended on an especially happy note as they celebrated their weeks of hard work. But more work was yet to come, and they were up early the next morning to get things ready for the painters who were scheduled to arrive at seven.

  Eight o’clock rolled by. Then nine. No painters.

  “My phone calls go to voice mail.” Denny looked to Lillian, who was standing by her aunt, peering out the front window.

  “Not good,” she responded with a worried look.

  “It’s odd. They were prompt on the days they were texturing and priming the walls.”

  “I wonder if they got their days mixed up. Did you call them yesterday to confirm?”

  “Maybe I should have. But I talked to them Friday and everything was set.”

  “I wonder if—”

  His phone vibrated, and he whipped it out. “Maybe this is them.”

  But he shook his head at Lillian when Todd greeted him.

  “You may have already heard, but your painters were coming back from a job in Show Low late last night. Hit an elk. Rolled their van.”

  “Are they okay?”

  “Hospitalized. Pretty banged up. Broken bones. I think Penny and Dee Dee may be released this afternoon or sometime tomorrow. No word on Mia. But none of them are in any shape to start that job.”

  Without the place painted, they couldn’t do a final cleanup and bring in the furnishings and other decorative materials.

  “Can you round up anyone else? Someone who would do a good job, I mean?”

  “I called around before I called you, and so far nothing’s panning out. A few teams would like the job, but won’t be available until after the first of next month.”

  After the wedding.

  “If you’d keep your ears open for a replacement, we’d appreciate it. We don’t have many days left to pull this off, and this place is big. It can’t be painted in an afternoon.”

  “Don’t I know it. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Thanks.” The call concluded and Denny turned to Lillian and Viola. “Know a good florist in Show Low?”