Читать книгу High Country Hearts - Glynna Kaye - Страница 9

He folded his arms, skepticism in his tone. “Yes and no?”

“Mom and Dad expanded it through the years.” She loved extolling all they’d done to make Singing Rock what it was today. “They built on what Grandma and Grandpa—Mom’s parents—started out with. Added cabins. The lodge. But basically, it’s the same in essence as it always has been. Guests have come to expect that.”

“You think so?”

Why was he challenging her? Acting like he didn’t know what she was talking about?

“Sure. Singing Rock’s been around for sixty-some years. There are even people who’ve been coming here every summer for five decades of those.”

“The Millards, right? Your folks mentioned they celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary at the lodge last year.”

“See what I mean? Singing Rock’s a family tradition.” She caught his furrowed frown and laughed. “You doubt that?”

“What’s Singing Rock doing to attract the Millards’ grandkids? Great-grandkids?”

Pride swelled. “Exactly what we’ve always done. Opening our hearts—and our cabins—to share genuine high country hospitality.”

Rob braced an arm on a porch support post. “Don’t get me wrong. I understand and appreciate that sentiment. But unfortunately, that doesn’t cut it in today’s market. A lot of people are looking to have their days scheduled with diverse activities. Add to that a growing desire for more amenities. Conveniences. Luxuries even.”

“Like cable TV and free internet access? A gourmet coffee shop on site?” She shook her head. It looked like she had a lot to do yet to educate Rob. “Mom and Dad pride themselves on limiting the influence of that kind of thing. They believe you should be your own entertainment.”

“But those kinds of people aren’t keeping the cabins full, now are they?”

Why was he being so obstinate?

“Maybe not in this economic slump. But that’s the whole reason people come to Singing Rock.” She motioned toward the captivating view from the porch. “They’d rather commune with God and nature than sit in front of an electronic screen of some variety. They want to get themselves and their kids away from all-consuming technology and flee the stuff that causes them stress on a daily basis. The place that delivers on that promise is Singing Rock.”

Rob tilted his head. “A good cup of coffee causes stress?”

“A good cup of coffee doesn’t have to cost five or six bucks a pop. That does cause stress.” She studied him a long moment, an uneasiness floating around the edges of her mind. She folded her arms. “You’re not thinking of trying to talk my folks into that kind of junk are you? I can tell you right now it won’t fly.”

“Coffee shop? No way. But it’s your parents who asked me to evaluate how Singing Rock can be brought into the twenty-first century. As I’m sure you’re already aware, business sagged notably the past few years.”

“That’s due to a general dip in the economy.” Or had Mom and Dad suffered a financial blow? Was that what Paulette meant when she referred to the future of Singing Rock being on the line? “Everyone’s taking a hit, right?”

“The Evergreen property up the road is holding its own, staying filled. Each unit has internet, wide-screen TV. They offer a pool, tennis court, exercise room, buffet breakfast—”

With a laugh she held up a restraining hand. “Wait, wait, wait. Kyle Marsh’s place? Are you kidding me? That condo kingdom that comes complete with cute garages so the sports cars won’t get coated with pine pollen or spotted with sticky ponderosa sap? You can’t compare our place to his.”

“Why not? He’s the competition.”

She placed her hands on her hips, but kept her smile steady. “No, he’s not. Kyle wouldn’t know a trout from a goldfish. A canoe from a surfboard. And his upscale clientele couldn’t care less about that type of thing, either. That’s not the crowd Singing Rock caters to.”

“Maybe not currently, but—”

“There are already enough places to accommodate that other demographic. The heart of the high country is in the outdoors—fishing, hiking, stargazing. Sing-a-alongs and marshmallow roasts around a campfire.”

She shook her head, struggling not to laugh again. “Look, Rob, I assure you, Kyle’s place isn’t what Mom and Dad were alluding to when they asked you for recommendations. They’ll expect estimates on a redo of the sand volleyball lot, digging new fire pits, re-rocking the parking areas or replacing worn-out porch furniture. Do you have any idea what internal turmoil they went through before deciding it would be acceptable to put microwaves in the cabins? To build a website?”

He frowned. Again.

“So,” she said, before he could sing more praises of neighboring Evergreen. Her folks would faint dead away. “Should we take a look at this piece of artwork you called about?”

His mouth set in a grim line, Rob pushed open the glass-paned wooden door and motioned her inside. The faint, comforting scent of wood smoke and cinnamon greeted them as they stepped onto the hardwood floors of the shadowed interior. It took a moment for her daylight-accustomed eyes to adjust to the dimmer surroundings. But there was no mistaking the colorful scrawl across the cream-colored wall inside the entryway.

“NO MORE,” it proclaimed in three-foot-high letters.

“No more what?” While concerned about the defacement of the charming space and the effort it would take to remedy the perpetrator’s handiwork, a rush of relief flooded her. “I thought you said my name figured into this.”

Rob came from behind and gripped her shoulders, turning her to the left. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

DIAZ. With a bright crimson slash through it.

“That may be my last name,” she protested with a shot of apprehension as Rob released her. “But this doesn’t have anything to do with me. Did you call the deputy again?”

Rob stepped back, gazing at the wall with a critical eye. “Not yet.”

“But you’re going to, right?”

He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, a weary gesture. “It will delay getting the place repainted. I have guests for this unit arriving Friday afternoon.”

Should she override his decision and make the call to law enforcement herself? Was it wise to challenge Rob’s authority so early in their renewed acquaintance? What if he told Paulette?

“Shouldn’t we get this on record? It isn’t a random act if someone knows my parents’ name. It’s like a personal threat.”

He met her gaze, continuing to massage his neck. “More like a major irritant. But as I told the deputy this morning, I suspect what’s been going on is a calling card left by the environmentally-minded kids I had a run-in with the first week I got here. They were well-intentioned high schoolers, up from Phoenix for the summer, would be my guess. Took exception to a tree-thinning project your folks have going along the highway side of the property to lower the risk of a major fire.”

“Wouldn’t they be back in school by now?”

“Not if they go to a private one. You know, an independent. Lots of those around these days that don’t start until after Labor Day. But if that’s the case, we should be rid of them after this weekend.”

“Can’t you have them arrested?”

“I didn’t recognize them as kids staying here, and they’ve kept themselves scarce since I warned them off.” He squared his shoulders. “But I can’t afford to lose out on the weekend’s revenue by delaying repairs. In studying the records, I noticed that except for the Fourth of July, this will be the first time this year that we’ll come close to having a full house. I have a couple of days to get Timberline and Bristlecone back in guest-ready condition, and standing here debating the issue is cutting into that time.”

“Still—”

“I guarantee you that the deputy has more important things to see to with the holiday approaching. Wouldn’t be too happy to hear from either of us for something this minor.”

She couldn’t argue with him on that point. But what would Mom and Dad do if they were here? She pulled her cell phone from where she’d clipped it to the waistband of her jeans and switched it to camera mode. “I’d at least like to get photos. In case we need evidence later.”

“Suit yourself.”

She fully intended to. And it was becoming quite clear she’d better keep an eye on Rob—in her parents’ best interests, of course.

He’d ticked her off.

He could tell by the way her chin jutted and those beautiful eyes flashed that she thought he should drag the deputy back out here. But that was a waste of everyone’s time. Time he certainly didn’t have to spare.

She didn’t seem to be in any hurry with the photos, clicking away from different angles to ensure good snapshots of the vandalized walls. But it gave him a few minutes to step out of her way, to strategize. He didn’t know how much influence she had on her parents’ decision-making, but it probably wasn’t a smart move to alienate her. He’d been caught off guard when she’d reminded him of their college connection. Hadn’t been thinking clearly when he’d told her he had no intention of joining her for a walk down memory lane.

He still couldn’t risk getting too friendly. But there had to be a satisfactory middle ground.

He shot her a covert glance. Dainty little thing, but the coltish figure he remembered from the church volleyball team had filled out and the carelessly cropped hair now tumbled down her back. The once-sharp planes of her face had softened. No wonder he hadn’t recognized her when she’d stepped out on the porch earlier that morning.

She’d grown up, that was for sure.

Which was exactly why he had to walk a fine line here. Couldn’t encourage her to hang around. But neither could he again deliver an ill-thought-out comment like the one he’d made earlier in hopes of keeping her at bay. A move he’d have to make up for.

“Olivia …”

“Hang on. I’m almost done.”

“Take your time.”

She lowered her phone and spun toward him as if surprised. Had she been dawdling just to irritate him?

He met her questioning gaze. “You’re right. It’s a good idea to take photos. And if you think your parents would call the county about this, I can do that.”

Confusion flitted through her eyes. “No, that’s all right. Like you said, there’s nothing for the deputy to see that he can’t analyze in a few good photos.”

“If you’re sure.” He ducked his head and again rubbed a hand along his neck, hoping she didn’t detect his relief. Now he could get to that painting without delay. He glanced back at her. “And I’m sorry about earlier this morning.”

She tilted her head in question.

“You know, when you mentioned catching up on our college days? I really didn’t mean to sound so—” He paused, fishing for an appropriate word.

“Rude?” she asked brightly.

His startled gaze bored into hers. “It was rude, wasn’t it?”

She scrunched her face. “Mmm. On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a twelve since it was in front of my big sister.”

“Hey, I’m really sorry. I won’t make excuses, but please don’t take it personally. It’s just that—”

“Look, Rob.” Her eyes filled with a puzzling sympathy as she stepped forward to lay a reassuring hand on his arm. “You don’t need to worry that I’ll say anything to anyone about … well, you know.”

The muscles in his throat constricted. How did she—?

“It’s no one else’s business that Gretchen dumped you in front of God and everybody. It was a long time ago.” She cut him a mischievous look. “And besides, we’re all entitled to look like an idiot once in a while, right?”

Time stood still as he stared at her, trying to assimilate her words. Then he threw back his head and laughed. Gretchen. She thought his ill-at-ease behavior was about Gretchen. Thank You, God. Of course she wouldn’t know about anything that had transpired since their NAU days.

Wonderment lighting her face, she laughed, too, apparently relieved to see him taking her blunt comment so well.

After several more moments of unconstrained laughter, he wiped at an eye, chuckled and shook his head, getting himself under control. “Oh, man. An idiot, huh? Thank you, Olivia, for sharing that tender sentiment with me. It’s always good to know how old acquaintances feel about you.”

She gazed up at him, face aglow with the almost-worshipful expression he remembered from college.

It sunk his momentary relief like a rock.

Olivia’s heart did a loop-de-loop as she got an unexpected glimpse of the Rob of old—the flash of even white teeth and gray eyes dancing in merriment. It was the first unrestrained response she’d gotten out of him. And boy, was it worth the wait.

“I’ve had more than my share of public humiliations,” she assured, smiling up at him and marveling at the transformation. Maybe Paulette was right. His bad experience in Vegas had driven him inside himself. Put him on his guard.

Now she’d have to figure out a way to keep him from retreating again. She’d have to be fast. The light in his eyes had already dimmed.

“So where’s the paint, huh?” She looped her arm through his, feeling him flinch as her bare arm made contact with his rock-solid one.

“You want to paint?”

“Sure. What else do I have to do today?”

“Maybe see your family? Relax? That’s what vacations are for, right?”

She shrugged, not wanting to explain why she’d come back to Canyon Springs. He might not take it kindly that her plans included worming her way back into Singing Rock management. “There’s plenty of time to fulfill familial obligations.”

“Well, then—” He slipped out of her light grasp and stepped away, almost as if relieved to put some distance between them. “I have primer and paint back at the lodge. Rollers, brushes and drop cloths.”

Gazing happily at him, she winked. “So let’s get to it, Mr. McGuire.”

And knock off with the frowning.

“How’s it going up there in the Northland, Rob?” His mom’s words echoed through the cell phone as slivers of Wednesday morning’s dawn penetrated the thick stand of pines. Cloudless sky at the moment, but end-of-monsoon-season rains filled the forecast. “Is Canyon Springs everything Meg painted it to be?”

Settling himself on the lodge’s porch steps, he took a sip from his coffee, savoring the warmth on this chilly morning. Hard to believe overnight lows could be in the fifties this time of year. His little sister had made a big deal about the cool, more-than-a-mile-high-elevation summers in Canyon Springs. Sure beat baking under a desert sun.

“Haven’t really gotten out that much in the community, Mom. An errand here and there. But it’s beautiful country. And everyone seems friendly enough.”

Not too nosy.

He took another sip of coffee as his gaze took in the forest clearing—Paul and Rosa’s cabin, still dark at this early hour—and their youngest daughter’s silver coupe parked outside. While his sister sang the praises of small-town America, assuring him Canyon Springs was the cure for whatever ailed you, she’d failed to mention her husband’s attractive, vivacious cousin in that portrait of the community she’d wooed him with.

He’d done his best to keep as far from Olivia as he could while priming the damaged cabin walls yesterday morning. But over and over she’d invaded his personal space, standing too close, brushing against his arm. Talking, smiling, laughing the whole time—and dragging him in on it—totally oblivious of the fact he’d rather be left alone.

“Do you see Meg often?” His mother’s voice drew him back to the present, away from memories of the sunny animation that characterized Olivia Diaz.

“Like I’ve said before, she’s teaching and it’s hard for me to get away from here. But she and Davy brought me dinner Monday night when Joe was out working his shift, and we enjoyed catching up. She’s sure loving that stepson of hers. And she glows when she talks about her job and Joe.”

“Good. But I hope her feelings about the town haven’t given you unrealistic expectations. She tends to see it through rose-colored glasses.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. You know me, my feet are planted firmly on the ground.”

She didn’t immediately reply and the silence stretched.

“What?” he pressed, not certain he wanted to hear what she had on her mind.

“Little towns talk.”

He took a deep breath and set the mug on the porch. “I know.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt, honey.”

“I don’t want that, either. But Vegas, Phoenix—any big city—they’re out of the question now.”

“You’re still having trouble dealing with what happened.”

No point in denying it.

“Try having a gun put to your head and see how you’d be doing.” He forced a chuckle, hoping to allay his mother’s concern. But he squeezed his eyes shut as the muscles in his stomach tightened and he broke out in a light sweat. Just as he did each time he relived the cold steel pressed against his temple—remembered what he’d come so close to losing. “But I like the job. I like what I’ve seen of the town. My employers are putting their faith in me and I intend to deliver.”

He heard a disturbance in the background at the other end of the line. A familiar, plaintive, high-pitched voice. Then his mother’s reassuring murmurs. Her laugh.

“There’s someone here who wants to talk to you, Rob.”

“Put her on.” His spirits rose in anticipation.

More commotion. The sound of the phone being dropped. Recovered. Then a heavy breathiness coming through the receiver, pulsing warmly across the miles.

“Is that you, Angie?” he teased, his heart warming. He lived for these phone calls. “What are you doing up so early, pumpkin?”

A giggle tickled his ears.

“Daddy!”