Mountain Country Courtship

by Glynna Kaye

  “What happened to our painters?”

  “Hit an elk last night.”

  “Bull elk?” Viola’s eyes widened. “Those things can weigh up to a thousand pounds or more.”

  “Don’t know, but it rolled them. I guess they’re in pretty bad shape. One’s worse than the other two.”

  Vi moved off in the direction of the apartment. “I’ll get the number of the florist I use.”

  Lillian turned desperate eyes on him. “So what are we going to do now?”

  He hitched a brow. “How are you with a paint roller?”

  “I hope you’re not serious. Getting this place painted in time to allow us to get the furnishings in before the wedding was going to be a stretch even for those three pros.”

  “I won’t argue that. I was thinking it would be optimistic to get the downstairs done. But now...” He shook his head.

  “But now what?” a booming voice called from the open doorway.

  What was his dad doing here? “We’ve run into a snag with our painters. It doesn’t look like we’re going to meet our deadline.”

  And if they didn’t meet the deadline, Lillian would risk getting even further on the bad side of her former fiancé’s grandmother, and he’d be stuck here for who knew how long.

  His dad joined them in the parlor. “I can swing a brush with the best of ’em.”

  “Thanks, but we’re weighing our options right now.” Which weren’t many. “What brings you here?”

  “I haven’t been inside this building for thirty years, so thought I’d stop in and look around.” His dad cut a look at Lillian, then jerked his head in Denny’s direction. “You probably know that his mother—”

  “Dad.”

  Doug Hunter laughed, then motioned to Lillian. “Actually I thought I’d come in and get a closer look at the young lady who seems to be occupying all my son’s time. He’s hardly said boo to his old man since he got to town.”

  Color tinged Lillian’s cheeks when she met Denny’s apologetic gaze. “It’s the inn renovation, Mr. Hunter, that’s keeping him busy.”

  “You think so? Haven’t looked in the mirror lately, have you? And call me Doug.”

  “Dad.”

  “Oh, stop being such a killjoy. I’m teasing your pretty lady here. I’m sure she knows how to take ribbing in the right spirit of things. Don’t ya?”

  “I do my best.”

  “You’ve had plenty of practice, I imagine, what with running off on your last groom.” He winked at her. “Denny’s been dumped once, so I’m counting on you to stick with this one.”

  “Dad. I think it’s time for you to go.”

  He chuckled as he raised his hands. “No harm intended. Don’t go running me off just yet. It sounds as if you’re going to need help around here.”

  “I appreciate the offer. But like I said, we’re weighing options.”

  “That’s my son all right. He thinks too much when the situation calls for action.” Doug again winked at Lillian. “That’s probably why he isn’t married yet.”

  Her eyes met Denny’s again, and he caught a flash of amusement. Glad she was finding his father funny. He sure wasn’t.

  Vi returned with the florist’s phone number and struck up a conversation with his dad, which enabled Lillian to slip from the room. He followed her to the kitchen.

  “I apologize for my dad’s behavior. He sometimes gets carried away. And please don’t say anything tacky like I’m just like him.”

  “You’re nothing like him, I can assure you.”

  Denny swiped at his brow and gave her a grin.

  “So what are we going to do, Denny? What are these options you seem to think we have?”

  “To be honest? That talk was solely for the benefit of Dad. If he thought I didn’t have a clue, he’d think that was the signal for him to step in and take over. Which, believe me, is not something we want to have happen.” Denny ran his hand roughly through his hair, suddenly weary. “Todd’s trying to round up replacement painters, so I guess we sit tight and hope he can pull some out of the woodwork by tomorrow.”

  “Because if he doesn’t...”

  “There’s no reason the garden wedding and reception can’t proceed as planned. It doesn’t have to be canceled. We passed inspection. The caterers can take over the kitchen, and for the most part, things are pretty well cleaned up. Your grandmother of the bride shouldn’t have anything to whine about.”

  “But there’s scaffolding all over the back where the painters were doing trim. And stupid me, when things were coming along so well, I promised the bride a guest room for her and her bridesmaids to get ready in. But there’s no furniture. Not even window treatments for privacy.”

  “We can get the scaffolding taken down, and Barbie can make do with folding chairs and a sheet tacked up at the window. If this glitch is the worst thing that happens to her in her married life, she should consider herself well off.”

  Lillian frowned. Something else was bothering her.

  “What am I missing here?”

  “Cameron.”

  She was thinking about her former fiancé? “What about him?”

  “He had some rude things to say about the inn and my dreams for it when he was trying to convince me to go to Boston and retain a caregiver for Aunt Vi.”

  Ah. “You think he’ll be coming to the wedding.”

  She nodded. “I know it’s dumb, but I wanted everything to be done. Perfect.”

  He wanted it to be perfect for her, too.

  “I wish I could promise it will be. But realistically, we may not get painters in here for several weeks—either the ones who started the project or a replacement team. Then the furnishings after that.”

  “Like I said, it was a stupid hope in the first place.”

  “No hope is stupid.” And no doubt she’d planned to be dressed to the nines, hair and makeup flawless, and make the guy eat his heart out when he saw the Pinewood Inn’s beautiful hostess.

  “We’ll figure something out. Don’t you worry.”

  But he’d told her not to worry about Taylor, too, and that Annalise would be carting her back home in no time. That hadn’t happened, either.

  He’d never been much into praying. But for Lillian, this might be a good time for him to start.

  * * *

  Lillian awoke the next morning earlier than usual, the room still dark except for a thin line of light coming from under the bedroom door. But when she turned on her bedside lamp and her eyes alighted on Taylor’s birthday presents atop the empty bed across the room, her already gloomy thoughts darkened. She nevertheless managed a whispered prayer for her niece and sister before becoming conscious of the sounds that had roused her from her sleep.

  Voices. Male and female. Laughter.

  It wasn’t yet 6:00 a.m.

  Scrambling to grab her robe, she slipped it on, then stepped into the main room of the apartment. The door was open to the inn’s hallway, the voices louder now, sounding like a small army had taken up residence.

  A robed Aunt Vi, her eyes twinkling, came through the door and, spying her, motioned her forward. “Come, Lillian. I didn’t think you’d ever wake up. You can’t miss this.”

  She stepped into the hallway with her aunt, and they moved to the parlor, which was packed with people in work clothes milling about, boxes of doughnuts being passed among them.

  Denny’s dad and uncle Dave. His aunt Elaine and grandma Jo. His Hunter half siblings, cousins and all their spouses. Sawyer Banks and his new bride, Tori, too. Cash Herrera. So many church members she recognized spilling out onto the lit front porch. In the far corner was a smiling Sharon Dixon Diaz, owner of Dix’s Woodland Warehouse over in Canyon Springs. At her side was her husband, Bill, along with members of their extended family. Kara and Trey. Joe and Meg. Abby and Brett.


  And there, smack in the middle of the hubbub, was Denny.

  Bewildered, she cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, “What’s going on?”

  He immediately made his way over to her, looking as shell-shocked as she felt. “I was rolled out of bed at five o’clock by Dad and told to get myself over to the inn pronto. That there was work to be done.”

  “You mean—?”

  “He means that even though Denny’s done his best to evade us while he’s been here, he’s still a Hunter.” A grinning Pastor McCrae slipped his arm around his wife, Jodi. “So it’s Hunter family and friends to the rescue. Point us to the paint cans and roller brushes and we’ll make this thing happen.”

  Her astonished gaze collided with Denny’s. “Is this for real?”

  “Sure looks like it. But now I have to restore order and come up with a workable plan. Maybe split people into shifts. First coat today, second tomorrow. Penny, our painter, is here. With broken ribs too sore to paint, but she’ll supervise and provide instruction so this gets done right.”

  Still overwhelmed, Lillian looked around at the crowd. “Some of these people I recognize as being from out of town, so make sure to get them assigned to something today. We don’t want them to have to make a return trip.”

  He nodded. “Stick close and help me sort this out, okay?”

  “I will. But let me get dressed first. Do something with this crazy hair.”

  “You look fabulous to me, even with bedhead and a fuzzy robe. So don’t take long. Let’s get this thing organized and hit the ground running.”

  The next three days were a whirlwind of activity, with Penny roaming both inside and out, giving technique demonstrations and tips to ensure drop cloths were draped strategically and quality work was being done. During breaks Denny provided enough sandwiches and pizzas to keep the hungry mob filled, and limitless energy and high spirits seemed to bounce off the walls of the inn.

  “I still can’t believe these people volunteered to help us.” Denny shook his head in wonder at the lunchtime crowd gathered around tables in the garden. “Most of these people I don’t even know. They don’t know me.”

  “But they do know my aunt and me—and they want to get to know you. Your family turned out, too. I’ve never seen so many Hunters together at one time, except at big celebrations.”

  Denny shook his head again. “That’s especially mind-boggling because as the son of Charlotte Gyles, they don’t even like me.”

  “What do you mean? Of course they like you, or they would have quietly gone about their own business. They all have better things to do than take time off from work and get covered with paint. You heard Garrett—you’re a Hunter. That counts for something in their eyes.”

  “I suppose.” He didn’t look convinced. “But what about the others who aren’t related to me? What’s in it for them?”

  She laughed and linked her arm through his. “This is one of the perks of a small town, Denny. Of having a church family. Now you know why I desperately want to call Hunter Ridge my home.”

  His gaze met hers and held, still uncomprehending perhaps, but he nodded thoughtfully.

  Longing to reach out to him and convince him of his worth, she could no longer deny that somewhere in the past weeks she’d come to love him. For too long she’d let regret of the past and fear of the future steal her joy, hold her back. Was she now truly willing to trust God and risk her heart?

  But she’d fallen for someone who wanted to be just friends. Someone who, like her niece, feared stepping out and surrendering his heart to those who loved him.

  But even if he could somehow overcome that, would Hunter Ridge hold him for a lifetime? Could she? How long would it be until, like her former fiancé, he felt smothered, trapped in the tiny town, and returned to life in a metropolis teeming with like-minded people and what he perceived as limitless opportunities?

  Could she bring herself to leave the town that meant so much to her and follow him wherever his life might lead if it meant uprooting Aunt Viola—and, God willing, Taylor—to follow her heart?

  Lord, what am I to do?

  If only Taylor would return soon.

  And Denny would change his mind about being just friends.

  Chapter Thirteen

  With the painting completed and downstairs furnishings brought in the day of the wedding rehearsal, the hours before Barbie Gray’s long-awaited afternoon were a flurry of activity. To Denny’s relief, the day was warm and sunny, perfect for an outdoor wedding.

  While Lillian oversaw the staging of the garden, with pristine white folding chairs arranged around the front of the gazebo, and assisted the caterers with waist-high cocktail-type tables for the reception, her aunt helped them set up in the kitchen.

  Denny had kept himself out of the way for the most part, focusing on getting the window treatments up in the front parlor and other downstairs rooms. They wouldn’t be reopening for guest bookings until the week of Thanksgiving, so there was plenty of time to furnish and decorate the upstairs, to ensure they were cleared to again receive paying overnight visitors. But at least the downstairs would be showcase-perfect for the bride—and Lillian.

  “You’re coming right along here,” Viola said from the doorway, approval evident in her voice.

  “Wrapping it up. Downstairs, anyway.” He stepped down from the ladder. “And astonishingly, with an hour to spare before the bride and her entourage are scheduled to put in an appearance.”

  Viola gazed happily around the room. “Who would have thought the Pinewood could look like this in such a short time?”

  “Hard work and teamwork.”

  “Thank you, Denny, for so much.” She crossed the room to give him a hug. “Not just the renovation, but for convincing your mother we can do this.”

  That still remained to be seen. A now-five-bedroom inn with a lovely garden setting might not ever be a true moneymaker. But his mother was willing to take that chance.

  “It’s been my pleasure.” And despite its ups and downs, it had, for the most part, been a pleasure. Working with Todd’s team, enjoying that amazing time when the Hunters and friends had jumped in to help out and, most of all, spending time with Viola and Lillian. And his precious Taylor.

  He hated to see that come to an end.

  “I guess I should say my goodbyes now, before wedding guests start arriving.”

  “Goodbyes?” Viola’s smile crumpled. “You’re leaving?”

  “As soon as I pick up my stuff from the Hideaway. It’s time to get back to my real life.” He’d decided to take his stepbrother up on the Midwest position. While a demotion, he liked the thought of confounding Vic, leaving him guessing as to his little brother’s motives, and was determined to make a go of it while staying plugged into the heart of GylesStyle Inns.

  “Does Lillian know?”

  “Does Lillian know what?” Lillian echoed.

  He looked in the direction of her voice, and his breath caught. Dressed in a forest green, just-above-the-knee sheath dress with a matching fitted jacket and black heels, she was a vision.

  He blinked. “Wow.”

  Viola beamed. “She cleans up nice, doesn’t she, Denny?”

  “I’ll say. Not that she’s ever looked less than sharp, but today she’s a knockout.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Was he out of his mind to be hitting the road? For insisting they keep their relationship as friends only? He could find a job around here someplace, right? Washing cars. Raking yards. Busing tables and mucking out stalls at the Hideaway, as his dad had made him do that summer he’d visited here when he was twelve years old.

  But then again, it would only be a matter of time, wouldn’t it, until Lillian figured out what Corrine hadn’t—or at least hadn’t acted on—until their wedding day. That he wasn’t that much of a catch in the long run.<
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  “Denny’s leaving.” Viola gave her niece a look he wasn’t sure how to interpret. “This afternoon.”

  With startled eyes, Lillian tipped her head to look at him over the top of her glasses, a familiar mannerism he’d always treasure. “So soon?”

  Viola slipped past Lillian, patting her on the arm. “I need to change clothes, too. Although I doubt I’ll leave Denny’s mouth hanging open like you did.”

  Lillian’s cheeks pinkened.

  “You do look amazing,” he acknowledged when Viola left the room.

  “Thank you.” She offered a slight smile. “But you’re leaving today?”

  “You knew I’d only be here a short while. The time’s flown. Now I need to get back to where I belong.”

  But his heart would always be here. With Lillian.

  “So you’re getting that promotion your stepfather promised if you completed this project and kept your distance from the main office during your stepbrother’s adjustment period?”

  “Actually...no.” He hated admitting he was being shoved aside, deliberately overlooked. But he’d do his best to turn it around, make it work, garner his stepbrother’s grudging respect if it was the last thing he ever did. “Vic’s transferring me to the Midwest to oversee our operations there. I need to wrap things up in the Bay Area office and get on with it. Pay my dues and hope for the best.”

  “Midwest operations. But isn’t that—?”

  “Correct. For all intents and purposes, a demotion.”

  Her eyes filled with understanding. “I’m sorry, Denny. You did everything you were asked.”

  “To the best of my ability.”

  “I don’t think I like your family.”

  “Sometimes I don’t, either. But for the time being, I need to roll with the punches. Not give Vic the satisfaction of being free of me just yet—which I believe was his intention with this transfer. He wanted me to balk so he could fire me outright. I think it threw him in a major way when I didn’t.”

  She sighed. “It’s all such a game.”

  “It’s one I’ve played for many years. Win some, lose some. I’m not done winning just yet.”