Читать книгу The Accidental Bride - Christina Skye - Страница 14

THE FIELDSTONE BUILDINGS of Lost Creek Resort hugged a valley between two peaks. Small cottages circled a rugged lodge and two guest wings. Jilly imagined how beautiful the tree-lined slopes would look blanketed in snow.

As the taxi drove up the winding road bordered by pines and aspens, she gave up trying to get Walker Hale out of her mind. “So … do you know that man at the airport?” she asked her driver casually. “The one with the dog. He’s a local?”

“Walker Hale? Sure. He’s been here awhile. He’s got a nice place up the mountain. Family’s had a place here for generations. His dog is real nice, too. Trained and everything. Heard both of ‘em were fighting over in Afghanistan.”

“The dog, too?”

The taxi driver nodded. “In the marines over there. Dog helped with security. Both got hit. Walker nearly got himself killed saving Winslow. Least that’s how I heard it.” The driver rounded a curve, and they cruised past low stone fences that framed the last of the year’s wildflowers.

Jilly soaked in the beauty while she processed the new information about Walker Hale and his dog. “Wow. I thought his dog looked smart.”

“He takes real good care of Winslow. Not too social though. He doesn’t come into town much except for food and coffee. We got a new coffee shop this year,” the driver said proudly. “You should stop in. They could use the business.”

“I may do that.” Jilly thought longingly of a frothy mocha latte with a dusting of cinnamon. But she had sworn to cut down on her caffeine, and she didn’t want to go back on her promise.

She didn’t confess that the real draw was encountering Walker—and his enchanting dog—again very soon.

HER ROOM—A SUITE ACTUALLY—was a cabin nestled in a grove of aspen trees. Their white trunks and dancing golden leaves made Jilly sigh in sheer delight. The rustic log design was peaceful and the clear mountain air seemed to calm her soul.

In her old, driven mode she would have rushed off to dig up every detail about her cooking classes the following day. But the new Jilly was determined to slow down and enjoy the scenery. Instead of fuming or worrying, she kicked off her shoes, opened the big French doors and wandered out to the stone patio overlooking the valley.

The view was drop-dead amazing, all green slopes and ridges above the distant valley and town lights. Someone had set out a plaid blanket on the big patio rocker. Jilly wrapped the thick wool around her shoulders, watching the sunset.

Not bad. This was almost peaceful.

Maybe she was getting the hang of this relaxation thing, after all.

A GUST OF COLD AIR SHOOK Jilly awake two hours later.

The sun had set, and the night sky was a soft purple lit by stars. Yawning, she stood up and stretched, then made her way inside to the living area. Bright rugs covered the walls, across from a fieldstone fireplace with distressed wood mantel.

Whoever designed the place had a real eye for color. With a yawn Jilly glanced at her watch and was stunned to see how late it was. No point in leaving her cabin tonight. She had her travel food and the little room refrigerator held plenty of drinks.

She drummed her fingers on the table and then dug out her cell phone.

Grace answered on the second ring, sounding breathless.

“Hey, is something wrong?” Jilly asked.

“I’m repainting the upstairs hallway. The electrician finished the rewiring and the new floors are done.”

“That’s great. What about that kitchen wall?”

“One more week. But forget about the renovation. How do you feel? What do you think of Lost Creek?”

“The town is pretty small. And the resort is definitely rustic.” Jilly studied the darkening purple sky. Was that a shooting star she had just seen? “But rustic in a good way. And the air up here is amazing. I feel great. I sat out on my porch and actually fell asleep. In fact I’m going to bed early. No point trying to check on my classes tonight.”

“That’s right. No need to rush,” Grace said quickly. “You can get all the, uh, details in the morning.”

“Is something wrong? You sound odd, Grace.”

“I’m just a little antsy because I want to finish up and then take a nice, long bath. I’ve got paint in my hair and under my fingernails. But Noah finally managed to get away. We’re meeting tomorrow in San Francisco.”

Jilly smiled at the excitement in her friend’s voice. “About time. The hunk will have eyes for only one thing and that’s your smiling face.” Jilly stretched her arms and yawned again. “As for me, I am totally dead on my feet. But I have to know how Duffy is doing. Is he eating okay? Did he get his exercise? Did he go to see Dr. Peter for his checkup?”

“Let’s take them in order. Duffy is doing great. He is eating like a horse. Or he would, if Caro let him. You should see Bogart and Bacall race around with Duffy up in the woods. Olivia is going to take him to her office, too. But you know our Livie. She’s a little afraid of dogs she doesn’t know well.”

“Wait,” Jilly cut in. “Olivia’s afraid of dogs? I didn’t know that. What happened?”

“Don’t know. She closes up like a clam when I ask. But Duffy is such a big teddy bear that she seems okay around him. Is that a full enough report?”

Jilly blew out a little breath. “Thanks, Grace. It’s just that I miss him. And I worry.”

“No need to explain. Duffy’s a great dog, and he’ll be here healthy and happy when you get back. But first we want you healthy and happy. So just relax and enjoy yourself.”

“I’m working on it. I can’t wait for my cooking classes tomorrow.”

Grace cleared her throat. “Great.”

“Well, I just wanted to call and say thanks. You’re all the best.”

“I’ll tell Caro and Livie you called. You have the list of instructions from your doctor, right? No alcohol. No caffeine. No heavy physical exertion.”

“I’m up to speed, Grace. Don’t worry. Forget about painting the hall. Focus on having a great time with Noah. And tell him I said hi, okay? Remember that I want his mother’s meatloaf recipe. She has some secret ingredients I can’t figure out. Maybe roasted paprika?”

Grace laughed. “I’ll tell him you asked.”

Jilly stifled another yawn. “Did I tell you I saw a shooting star tonight? There was a tail of light that burned over the ridge. I’m taking it as a sign that good things are coming.” Jilly hesitated. “I … met a man at the airport today. He had a wonderful dog. There was something about him.” She turned, watching stars twinkle over the dark line of mountains. “Something intriguing. He was so controlled and contained. I couldn’t read him at all.”

“No way. You can read anyone.”

“Not him.” Jilly smoothed the wool blanket, wondering why she couldn’t get the man out of her mind. “Well, I’d better go. Make sure Caro doesn’t work too hard. The contractors will drive her nuts.”

“Olivia’s taking over now that she’s back.”

“Good. Caro’s too nice.”

Grace chuckled. “I’ll tell her you said that. You take it easy up there. Have a great time.”

“That’s the plan.”

After she hung up, Jilly leaned against the cool glass doors. Her whole body felt relaxed and somehow lighter. Tonight she might actually be able to sleep. Though she had never told her friends, she had been plagued by crippling insomnia for months. Nothing seemed to help.

But tonight Jilly thought she could sleep for a week.

Yes, she was going to take that shooting star as a very good sign.

Things were finally looking up.

AT 6:45 A.M. SHE WAS UP.

She had slept better than she had for months. Totally energized, she was ready to plan for her classes. She paced back and forth, admiring the huge stone fireplace, waiting for someone to appear at the reception desk.

Her sunny mood began to fade when no one appeared. She tried the offices, but all were empty. Frowning, she followed the noise of rattling dishes back to a serving area. The drifting aroma of coffee and bacon told her the kitchen wasn’t far away.

Jilly waved to a harried woman in a resort uniform. “Can someone help me?”

“Dining room is down that hall, ma’am. I’m afraid breakfast doesn’t start for another ten minutes though.”

“I’m really looking for someone at the reception desk. I want to find out about the cooking retreat.”

The woman blinked at Jilly. “Come again?”

“Cooking. The classes?” Jilly said the words very clearly. “I’m signed up but I haven’t found any details posted. Who should I talk to about that?”

“Well … I guess …” The woman put down her tray of clean silverware and gestured to a closed door off the kitchen. “Head chef is back there. Maybe he can help you.”

“Thanks. Sorry to bother you.” Jilly crossed the hall, noting the outdated cooking ranges and cramped food prep areas. The resort could definitely do with some renovations. Meal service during peak guest seasons would be a nightmare.

Not your problem, O’Hara. You’re on vacation, remember? Let somebody else worry about the cleanup and the details of the food prep.

She stopped at an entrance with a carved wooden door, listening to the deep voice inside.

“I know the guest reviews have been good. But how can I upgrade the menus on the current budget, Mamie? And my staff is too small. Two cooks and six kitchen staff for a resort this size? It’s impossible.”

Jilly hesitated. She didn’t want to eavesdrop. And the conversation seemed to be growing volatile.

Suddenly the man’s voice boomed out in a laugh. “Sure, sure. I’ll just keep asking. So what about the Henderson wedding? Still on for Friday? I know how you love a big resort wedding.”

Jilly peeked through the door. A short man was sitting at a postage-stamp-size desk. Cookbooks lined neat shelves all the way to the ceiling. “Check. The cake is baked.” He tapped on a computer as he spoke. “We’ll start the decorations tomorrow. You still planning for one hundred guests?”

There was more silence, broken by the soft tapping of computer keys. “Will do. Come by at lunch. I made that ginger ice cream you like.”

The chair creaked again and Jilly heard the typing resume. She knocked on the door.

“Come on in. It better be important. I’ve got a wedding menu to finish.”

Jilly stepped inside. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m hoping to get some information about your cooking retreat classes. They start today, but I can’t find any signs posted. I thought I’d ask back here.”

The resort’s executive chef swiveled his chair around slowly. “Cooking classes?” His ruddy face slid into a grin. “Very funny. Wait a minute.” He tilted back in his chair, studying Jilly. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so. I arrived last night.”

The chef drummed his fingers on the tidy desk. “I recognize you now. You’re Jilly O’Hara of Jilly’s Naturals. I read an article about you last week. Look at these.” He opened a drawer and rummaged excitedly, then pushed a jar across the desk. “Mango Chipotle Salsa. A mix made in heaven. I used it last night as a basting sauce for grilled pork. So why are you here at Lost Creek Resort?” He made a kissing motion to the air. “Why aren’t you in your kitchen producing more great salsas?”

Jilly liked him instantly. She had to smile when he pulled three other flavors of Jilly’s Naturals products from the drawer. “It’s kind of … an enforced vacation. I’ve been a little under the weather, and my friends set up this trip as a surprise. But they told me I was going to a cooking retreat. There aren’t any classes here?”

“Sure, but not for cooking. Somebody must have made a mistake.”

No cooking? That couldn’t be right, Jilly thought. Could her friends have been confused?

Maybe she should call Caro and—

The chef broke into her tangled thoughts. “Nothing serious, I hope. About you being under the weather.”

“No. Just working too hard—you know how hectic it can get in a kitchen.”

“Tell me about it.” He held out a beefy hand. “Name’s Ralph MacDermott. My friends call me Red. Not for the hair, but because I burn. It’s the Irish in me. Tell me what you think of the resort so far.”

Jilly took the cup of tea he poured from an electric pot behind his desk. “Everything’s beautiful. You’ve got a nice, tidy kitchen. Very clean and well organized.” In politeness she didn’t add that it was also cramped and forty years out of date. But cooking magic came from people, not appliances.

“We manage pretty well, most of the time. Ski season gets a little crazy. Skimageddon, we call it.” He sipped some tea and then studied her some more. “Had a chance to look at the menu yet?”

“No. I fell asleep last night. The air here is amazing.”

“It will take off ten years, and that’s a fact. Have a croissant.” He pushed a plate of golden pastries across to Jilly. “You must be pretty busy with your restaurant and your food line. How did you manage to get away?”

Jilly’s smile faded as she remembered her fall in the kitchen and the cascade of bad news that had followed. Right now her business was shaky. A friend from cooking school was filling in temporarily, but she couldn’t ask him to help out forever. Soon she’d have to make a decision.

She could let go of her dream and sell everything. Or she could go back to the job that she loved, knowing it could kill her.

What kind of choice was that?

Jilly decided that her call to Caro could wait. She was having too much fun talking shop with another chef. “I delegated. I’m trying to learn better management skills.”

Red refilled Jilly’s cup. “And your friends signed you up? Nice idea. They definitely sent you to the right place to relax. Sure, we’re not Jackson Hole or Aspen, but for my money, I’ll take Lost Creek any day.”

He searched through a folder, then glanced up at the wall clock. “How about I walk you over to the building where our workshops are held? It’s just down the hill, but the path can be confusing.” He flipped off his computer and stood up.

“You’ve got a kitchen to run,” Jilly said. “If you can give me directions, I’m sure—”

“No way. You’re a celebrity,” Red said firmly. “You get the grand tour.”

AS THEY WOUND PAST CEDAR-and-glass buildings, Red filled Jilly in on the town’s history, dating back to a rough-and-tumble mining camp in the last century. It was clear that he loved the place. Between questions about produce sources and trends in southwestern cooking, he grilled Jilly about future plans for her salsa line. She managed to be polite despite her fears about the future of her business, but she was relieved when they finally stopped at a big redwood structure with stained glass windows.

Now maybe she would get some answers.

Red glanced at his watch. “Here’s where the classes meet. But it’s a little early. You have time to get breakfast.”

“I never eat much breakfast. The croissant was perfect. Besides, I want to see about the retreat. If it’s really not geared to cooking …” Her voice trailed off. She looked around curiously as a young woman with a big wool bag strode past, red Keds flashing beneath purple leggings. Two more women rounded the path, both carrying big fabric totes.

Jilly studied their bags. They had big pockets on both sides. Jilly had seen bags like those before.

Caro carried one. It held her current sock project. And extra balls of yarn.

Stitch markers.

Long wooden needles.

Jilly closed her eyes.

They hadn’t. They couldn’t.

Had her devious friends signed her up for a knitting retreat instead of a cooking school?