Chapter Five

KENDALL FOLLOWED GABE’S TRUCK in her rented SUV, traversing a few short blocks down Main Street and then turning toward the lake. Even another stunning glimpse of water couldn’t quell the uneasiness in her middle. She’d come to Jasper Lake thinking that this would be a quick and easy process: file a claim against Constance Green’s estate, hire a trucking company to transport anything of value back to California, put the house on the market with a local Realtor. Her hopes had lifted when she’d seen that it was not one but five houses and a sizable plot of land as well. It was the relatively quick influx of cash they needed, the first good thing she’d ever gotten from anyone claiming to be related to her. And yet now that she knew the likely buyer would bulldoze these gorgeous examples of American historic architecture and put up some insulting, kitschy behemoth in their place . . . the process didn’t feel nearly so quick or so easy.

Well, why shouldn’t it be? She had absolutely no obligation to this town. She’d never set foot in it before today, hadn’t even heard of it before the letter from the lawyer arrived. And while Gabe might have been banking on sentimentality to keep her from disposing of the property as quickly as possible, he couldn’t know that she’d abandoned any curiosity about her past a long time ago. Obviously Constance had known about her existence and never tried to find her. Done nothing to save her from the string of foster homes and group homes she’d gone through before she’d finally landed at something more permanent. Done nothing to save her from the long years of hoping her mom might suddenly come back, followed by the constant pain of having her hopes shattered.

Kendall shook her head sharply. No. She didn’t owe Connie Green or this town anything. She’d made a new life in California. That was her priority.

Gabe pulled up to the curb alongside a traditional blue Victorian that had small American and Colorado state flags waving from a flagpole on a front porch. Even this late in the year, the grass was green, and cheerful pots of autumn mums stood on either side of the cement steps. A sign out front proclaimed Brandt Bed-and-Breakfast with a cute interlaced triple-B logo up top.

She climbed out of her SUV and retrieved her duffel bag, and when she stepped onto the sidewalk, Gabe was waiting for her. He flung his arms wide. “This is it. Best bed-and-breakfast in Clear Creek County.”

“Is it the only bed-and-breakfast in Clear Creek County?” she threw back with a smile, unable to remain sullen in the face of his enthusiasm. No matter his ulterior motives, his cheerful demeanor was infectious.

“No. But it is owned by my family, so I might be slightly biased.” He pretended to think. “Nope. Still the best. Come on in.”

Gabe took her bag from her hand and gestured for her to follow him up the front walkway. He let himself in without knocking, then called, “Opa?”

An older man appeared in the back hallway, dressed in a pair of pressed trousers and a knit vest over an oxford shirt. He walked slowly toward them, a slight frown on his creased face. “Gabriel? What are you doing here in the middle of the day?” His voice held the faint trace of a German accent.

“I’ve brought you a guest, Opa.”

The man faltered for a moment and fumbled for the glasses hooked in his collar. He studied her in surprise, the sharp blue of his eyes startling in his wizened face. “You must be Kendall Green. I would know you anywhere. You’re the spitting image of your mother, Carrie.”

Kendall glanced at Gabe, discomfited. She’d been envisioning a homey grandmother or aunt, someone who would sit her down with a cup of tea or a cookie, not a stern-looking German who, despite his slight shuffling gait, carried himself with a thread of steel.

He was still waiting for her response, though, so she nodded. “I am Kendall. You must be Gabe’s grandfather.”

He didn’t offer his hand, just gave her a nod that struck her as both old-fashioned and chivalrous. “Werner Brandt. Pleased to meet you.” He swept a hand toward the stairs. “Please. Follow me.”

Kendall hesitated, but Gabe didn’t seem to notice her uncertainty. “Opa, are we putting her in the Lake Room?”

“Of course we’re putting her in the Lake Room,” Mr. Brandt—she couldn’t think of him otherwise—responded with a touch of reproach. “It’s a waste of a good view otherwise, and it gets the morning sunlight. Plus, she can see you coming and decide if she wants you bothering her.”

Kendall smothered a smile and just caught the roll of Gabe’s eyes when she cast a look back at him. Despite her initial misgivings, she couldn’t help but like the brusque old man. There was a twinkle in his blue eyes—already so much like Gabe’s—that made her think his sternness was just an act or a habit. She followed him up the well-worn wood stairs, covered with an oriental runner, unable to help trailing her fingers over the original wood paneling, now painted white. This home had all the history and charm that she loved, even if it was more worn-in and less distinctive than Connie’s. Mr. Brandt made a turn down the upstairs hallway and stopped in front of the first door, a bedroom that seemed to face the front of the house. He pushed the door open for Kendall.

“Oh, wow.” A carved four-poster bed in keeping with the age of the home dominated the room, its mattress spread with a cozy handmade quilt, and upholstered armchairs flanked an antique table in front of the bay window. A quick peek into the en suite bath displayed a traditional scheme of black and white with gleaming white fixtures. Most girls didn’t get chills over original hexagonal floor tiles, but she’d spent her entire career trying to infuse this kind of period charm into new builds. She wandered over to the window, which provided a glorious bird’s-eye view of the lake beyond.

“I take it this suits you?” Mr. Brandt asked formally, but the twinkle was back.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” She smiled at the innkeeper. “How much is it a night? Just so I’m prepared . . .”

“Bah.” Mr. Brandt waved a hand impatiently and turned away. “No Green is going to pay to stay under my roof.”

The glow Kendall had felt moments before disappeared, and his charity chafed like sand in her swimsuit. “No,” she said firmly. “I insist.”

Mr. Brandt seemed not to hear or, more likely, chose to ignore her. “Come down when you’re ready. There are scones and coffee in the kitchen.”

Gabe shot her a helpless smile and shrugged, then brushed past her to drop her duffel on the bed. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, waiting for him to close the door behind him before she sank into one of the chairs with a sigh.

The surroundings were so beautiful, she could almost let herself believe she was here on a mountain getaway and Gabe was a friendly local determined to show her a good time. He was personable and intelligent—not to mention easy on the eyes. But she could never forget he was also Jasper Lake’s mayor, and his sole purpose in bringing her here was to enlist her in his vision of the town’s future. That made this whole trip an exercise in propaganda. As wonderful as the town might turn out to be, she couldn’t forget about her bigger responsibilities and visions back home.

She glanced at her watch and then dialed Sophie on her cell phone. The line rang twice before Sophie picked up and started talking without saying hello.

“Is it horrible? Is it amazing? Tell me all about it.”

Kendall leaned back in the chair and laughed, just hearing her friend’s voice draining the tension from her. “It’s not horrible. It’s actually beautiful. You wouldn’t believe this lake. And the trees have almost completely turned, but there’s still all this red and orange and yellow. I wish you’d come with me.”

“I wish I had too. What about this house?”

“Well . . . it’s more like houses.” Kendall explained the situation to Sophie, how she had come to inherit five houses and some property. “The only catch is, the town’s mayor is trying to convince me to keep them, or at least not sell to a developer who wants to level them. He’s building this huge summer resort on the far side of the lake.”

“That sounds ghastly,” Sophie said, but clearly her mind wasn’t on the conversation. Kendall heard clicking in the background.

“Are you typing? What are you doing?”

“I’m just looking something up.” She gasped. “Oh, my word, Kendall, do you have any idea how much those houses could be worth? Even in the middle of nowhere, they’re at least a quarter of a million each. I thought we were talking shacks or something, but . . . $1.25 million? That’s what I call an inheritance.”

“Yeah, and they’re even better than you can imagine. It’s actually pretty depressing to think of them being torn down. If I end up selling, I’ll want to take the stained-glass windows and some of the woodwork.”

“What do you mean if you end up selling? You’re seriously going to leave over a million dollars wasting away in the mountains? You don’t even like the cold. You don’t like skiing and you hate snow!”

“I know. And you’re right.” Kendall twisted around to catch a glimpse of the lake from her window. If she squinted, she could make out the tiny street with its five Carpenter Gothics through the shimmer of the setting sun on the water. “I just need to be strong. I haven’t even filed my claim with the court yet, so that’s the first step. And after that, I guess I need to consult a Realtor. But first, I want to inventory the houses.”

“And how long do you think that will take?”

Kendall hesitated. “That was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I think it’s probably going to be a week or two. Everything was wrapped up on my design projects before I went to Europe; I just have a few commissions from past clients to fill, and they know it will take me a while to find the right pieces. Can you handle things there without me for that long?”

“Of course I can. Take as much time as you need. Get all those delicious antiques crated and shipped back to me posthaste, and you can deal with the real estate stuff when they’re empty. But sell the houses.”

“Noted.” Kendall smiled, bolstered by her friend’s assertive tone. She knew what she had to do; she just had to be reminded what was at stake. “I have to go now. Fresh-baked scones downstairs.”

“Do not be seduced by the baked goods,” Sophie intoned. “Also, I’m a little mad you can still eat gluten. Call me later.”

“Done.” Kendall clicked off the line and squared her shoulders. Baked goods indeed awaited her downstairs. And no matter how charming or persistent the Brandts were, she would stay strong.