Chapter Ten

HAD GABE KNOWN that all it would take to get Kendall on his side was a meeting with Philip Burton, he would have arranged for him to be the first person she ran into. He had thought that perhaps he was the only one who felt like threatening violence just because Burton was in his personal space, assumed it was because of his strong feelings toward the town, but Kendall had no such ties and she was still fuming.

“I hate men who think women have no head for business,” she mumbled between sips of her pumpkin pie latte on their way back to the B and B. “As if I was just standing around waiting for someone to tell me what I should do with my property.”

The fact that she was calling it her property instead of Connie’s was an improvement; finally she was a little bit invested in the houses, even if it was only because she felt like Burton was trying to cheat her. Gabe wouldn’t complain if it finally put them on the same side of the argument.

“He’s definitely got a ‘punch me’ kind of face,” Gabe said lightly, and Kendall shot him a grin.

“Oh, if only I had thought that fast.”

Gabe nudged her with his elbow. “Probably best that you didn’t. Burton is the type to press charges and then offer to have them dropped in return for stealing away your land.”

“Probably,” she said with a hint of malice, her eyes narrowing. And that’s when Gabe decided he really liked this woman. Funny that all it took was a shared enemy and the threat of violence to bring them together. Despite her tone, the mood was comfortable now, conspiratorial, and from the way she settled her stride beside him, he thought she felt it too. “So tell me about Delia. She seems like an unusual type for this town.”

“You mean under sixty?” Gabe grinned.

“Well, that. And the tattoos and the makeup and the hair and the vintage clothes . . . you know, the whole look. Transplant, right?”

“Replant, like me. Went away to college, got married, moved back after a divorce. Opened the shop and the rest is history.”

Kendall nodded. “Now we just need another three hundred exactly like her, huh?”

“I would venture to say it would be difficult to find one other person exactly like her, but yeah, I get your point. We definitely need to attract working people and not just retirees to survive. Most of the younger folks moved out a long time ago and didn’t come back.”

“So that’s got to be goal number one: attract the younger set to town.” Kendall took another sip of her latte, brow furrowing. “What’s required to attract young professionals or new graduates? Affordable housing, right? Which you already have.”

“Compared to the Front Range, yes. But mostly it’s jobs, and everything here is either service-oriented or seasonal retail. What good is affordable housing if you’re making zero dollars?”

“Hmm. Well, that’s not something you can exactly wave your magic wand and make happen, is it?”

“You see my challenge.”

“I do.” She cocked her head. “What about Luke?”

Instantly, caution cut through him. Scratch that. Jealousy. “What about Luke?”

“He’s young. What does he do?”

“He’s a web designer. He works remotely. He has clients all over the country.”

Kendall walked on, thinking for a minute. “I assume that means you have good high-speed internet in town, then?”

“We’re in the mountains, not on the moon.” Though considering how sketchy cell service could be at times, the question wasn’t completely out of left field.

“So what if you tried to market it as a haven for telecommuters? ‘Work virtually in the most beautiful town in Colorado . . .’ You know, we millennials are really into work-life balance.”

“Are we?” He shot her an amused glance.

“So I’m told. The balance of my life is work, so I’m not really sure that I’m a good example. But seriously . . . why couldn’t you?”

He considered it for a moment. As an urban planner, he typically thought of things in terms of physical infrastructure, especially coming from Detroit: manufacturing and the like. But there were entire industries that operated virtually. Why couldn’t they try it? It required little of the town itself other than the amenities needed to support a community, and while those might be thinner than they were in Clear Creek’s larger towns, Jasper Lake was still livable.

“I think the big challenge then is housing. It’s affordable, yes, but it’s not like there’s an oversupply of it.”

“Yes, but surely you know a developer—who is not Phil Burton—who would be interested in putting in condos and some commercial space.” Kendall’s face lit up. “You know, hip and modern little cubicles with phone and high-speed internet that people could rent on a monthly basis. Bigger offices and conference rooms for small companies or meetings. They’re all the rage in Los Angeles, especially the ones that are dog-friendly.”

Gabe looked down at Fitz and automatically gave the pup’s furry head a scratch. He could think of dozens of things that would need to be done before that could ever be a reality, many of which would take years . . . but he didn’t have to actually accomplish it. All he had to do was show how his vision was preferable to Burton’s. Enough for them to block the permits, shut down the resort plans, and save Kendall’s homes. Then with the city council invested in the plan, they could take slow and steady steps toward a sensible implementation. It wasn’t as sexy as having a resort pop up in a year, but there was very little about urban planning that qualified as sexy.

“You know, you do have five rather large houses in a choice location . . . ,” he said slowly.

“Rent them, you mean? We’ve been there. I need a lot more money than rentals could bring in.”

“Maybe not rent them. Maybe more like . . . subdivide and sell them individually as condos.” He shook his head. “I’m just spitballing.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen what you have to do to houses like that in order to subdivide them, and it’s not pretty. I would hate to destroy the layout and the period details in order to make a multifamily unit. People spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to convert them back.”

“Right. But we can’t launch a massive marketing campaign to draw new citizens here without affordable housing. That creates the same problems as the resort development.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could convince Burton to change course? I mean, if you could change the zoning and block his permits, it’s not like he’d be able to follow through with his plan. What’s he going to do with his land then?”

“Hold on to it just to spite us?” Gabe guessed. “I haven’t found him to be overly cooperative.”

“That may change once he’s no longer holding all the cards.”

Gabe shot Kendall a sidelong glance. “Don’t forget . . . you’re still holding five of them.”

She made a face, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “How could I forget?”

He felt a pang of guilt. She’d had a lot thrown at her in the past couple of days. Finding out a bit of her mother’s story from Julie, having the entire future of the town hinging on her decision. And everywhere she went, there was someone to remind her of that. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to tell her not to worry, to do what she needed to do, and he would figure out the rest. A chivalrous impulse, maybe, but also a disastrous one. He was still Jasper Lake’s mayor, and his first and most important priority was doing what was best for the town. Even if it meant putting Kendall Green through the wringer.

They finally arrived at the B and B, and Gabe opened the front door for her, then circled around to the backyard, where he let Fitz loose. The huge hound went galloping off, thrilled to be free, though that energy wore off quickly enough, and he made a beeline for the patio furniture. It was a good thing Opa was secretly fond of the beast or Fitz wouldn’t get off so easily.

Gabe went through the back door into the kitchen, where Kendall was again sitting at the island, chatting with his grandfather. From the smell, he knew that Opa was cooking up some of Ellie Hernandez’s famous pork sausage, raised and made only a few miles away on the Hernandez ranch. Not only was the meat amazing, but Ellie’s special sausage blend was second to none. Even Opa admitted that he couldn’t come close, and for a German, that was saying something.

Kendall was finishing up her latte while Opa told her about the flood that had stunted Jasper Lake’s growth and destroyed so many of the neighbors. “Took almost two years for them to rebuild the bridge on the other side of Silverlark, and by then it was too late. Of course, you could come around the back side of the highway to reach us, but Silverlark was almost completely isolated unless you were comfortable with rutted dirt roads.”

“Wow,” Kendall said. “What did everyone do for supplies?”

“You don’t live up here unless you’re prepared to be snowed in for months, so the situation wasn’t immediately dire. Eventually they graded the back way in for deliveries, but it still wasn’t accessible to tourists.”

Kendall finally noticed Gabe standing there. “Oh, hey. Your grandfather was just telling me about the flood and how long it took for them to get the emergency funds to rebuild.”

“Yeah, and by then, the damage had already been done.”

Opa set two plates down on the counter, one in front of each of them, piled high with fried eggs, thick country bacon, Ellie’s sausage, and toast cut into triangles. Gabe didn’t tell her that the English-American–style breakfast was reserved strictly for guests. He’d grown up with brötchen and marmalade alongside slices of salami and cheese for breakfast, but few guests saw pumpernickel as breakfast food.

Kendall dug in, trying the bacon first, and gave a groan of appreciation. “This is amazing.”

Gabe smiled. “You should try the sausage.”

“I will.” She gave him a look that glinted with humor. “I’m glad I wore my stretchy pants today.”

Gabe covered his mouth so he could laugh without choking on his food. Stylish she might be, but prissy she was not.

“So, Mr. Brandt, what do you know about Phil Burton?”

Now the cough did turn into a choke. Kendall patted him on the back, and Opa slid him a glass of water. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to die, Kendall prompted, “Do you know Burton?”

Opa’s expression hardened. “I know him. Why?”

“I was just talking to Gabe about whether or not he would be willing to change direction if the city council shoots down his resort. I met the man this morning, but I can’t say I have any sense of what kind of person he is.”

She was soft-pedaling that for sure, because she’d made no secret about the kind of person she thought Burton was.

Opa’s expression tightened. “Philip Burton always does what’s in Philip Burton’s best interest.”

Kendall didn’t seem to catch the tension in the words, because she just nodded thoughtfully. “So maybe Gabe needs to convince Burton that this change of direction was his idea.”

Gabe snorted. “That’s likely to happen.”

“You never know. If you tell him the town is more concerned with affordable multifamily housing, and that’s the one thing the resort doesn’t address, you don’t think he’ll smell an opportunity? Men like him are territorial. If you bring in another developer or even hint at it, you might force his hand. He won’t want a stranger taking his business in his backyard.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.” For someone who looked so sweet and innocent, she had a remarkably devious mind. Score another point for Kendall Green.

“Thank you.” She turned back to her food with satisfaction, but Opa’s gaze remained fixed on Gabe.

“What?” he said finally, then cleared his throat when his grandfather scowled. “Sorry. You wanted to say something?”

Opa resumed wiping down the counters. Gabe had never pointed it out, but it was his tell when he was about to deliver news that his grandson wasn’t going to like. “I know someone you could call on that front. And I know he would be more than happy to help out.”

Now Gabe didn’t even care if he was rude. He stared at his meal and stabbed the egg so hard that yolk bled across the plate. “That isn’t going to happen.”

“Gabe—”

He shook his head, and Opa dropped the subject, leaving Kendall to study him curiously. Thankfully, she didn’t ask what the unspoken conversation was about, though he suspected of all the people he’d met, she would most understand his feelings on the subject.

The atmosphere in the bed-and-breakfast’s kitchen got uncomfortable fast, thanks to Gabe’s pronouncement, and Kendall scrambled to fill the silence with something, anything. She asked about the source of the meat on her plate, what Mr. Brandt enjoyed most about running a B and B, how long he’d lived in this house. Turned out that while he was one of the older residents of Jasper Lake, he was a relative newcomer to the town, having moved here with his wife only thirty years ago.

“Greta, God rest her soul, always wanted to live in a big city. New York, San Francisco. Said it reminded her of Berlin, where her family was from. We did that for a while, and then she said it was my turn. So I picked here. In some ways, it reminds me of Bavaria, where I grew up.”

“Did either of you ever consider going back to Germany?”

“No.” His eyes took on a faraway look, the downward corners of his mouth hinting at unpleasant memories. “Greta’s family left Germany before the war. Mine was not so lucky, though luckier than some. By the hand of God alone, our Jewish roots were not discovered. Still . . .” He shook his head. “I know Greta felt isolated from her homeland, but she did not see what I saw: the destruction, the privation after the war. I could never go back.”

Kendall listened in rapt attention. Maybe it was because she knew nothing of her own past, but she found other people’s stories fascinating. She was about to ask more questions when Gabe took their empty plates and moved them to the sink. “We need to get going, Opa. Kendall needs to file her paperwork at the courthouse this morning.”

A surge of disappointment rose in Kendall, but she nodded. “We do, unfortunately. Thank you for the breakfast. It was delicious.”

Mr. Brandt waved away her thanks. “It’s nothing. Here, take some scones with you.”

“It’s only a half-hour drive, Opa. You’ve filled us up until dinnertime!”

“Still.” He was already packing up leftover scones in a paper bag and digging out paper cups for the remnants of coffee in the large pot. Kendall expected Gabe to protest, but he didn’t say a word, just took the food and hugged his grandfather goodbye.

He handed Kendall one of the cups when they stepped out onto the back porch. She half expected Fitz to bound toward them, but the dog merely raised his head from his perch on the patio furniture and looked at them hopefully. “Do you mind making a stop by my house first to drop this beast off?”

“Does he not like car rides?”

“Oh no, he loves them. Unfortunately, twisty roads don’t like him.”

Kendall made a face. “In that case, no, I don’t mind dropping him at home. Is it far?”

“Not at all. If you haven’t noticed, there’s not much in this town that’s far from anything else.” He whistled and Fitz slid off the sofa and trotted over, letting Gabe clip the leash to his collar without resistance. Once through the gate, the three of them fell into step on the sidewalk, Fitz happy to walk calmly beside them but for the occasional stop to sniff an interesting plant or post.

“Why are the Lakeshore houses so far away from the rest of town?” Kendall asked. “Seems like it would have been difficult to get water and power and sewer out there.”

“There were no utilities here at the time they were built,” Gabe said. “In fact, they were the only ones in town that actually had running water. You can still see the old gravity-fed water tanks up the hill behind them.”

“Fascinating,” Kendall said. “But still, why build them so far away?”

“That’s a good question. No one has any idea since the builder is unknown. One would think that we’d have records of it somewhere, but most of the town historical society’s records were lost in the flood, and I guess no one really felt the need to look it up before then. I would think it was a rich man who didn’t want to mingle with the rabble—remember, this was a mining town.”

It was a reasonable guess. Whether it had been a mine owner building his own home and ones for his children or an early industrialist with visions of an elegant community in the mountains, her houses were certainly grander than anything else in Jasper Lake from that time period.

Their walk transitioned from a sidewalk to a paved road to a dirt one, deep ruts grooved into the surface. Here the houses were placed scattershot, the road winding around them rather than the other way around. Gabe stopped in front of a small log cabin surrounded by a picket fence. “This is it.”

Her eyebrows rose. This tiny, modest structure was the home of the town’s mayor? It looked more like a hunting cabin, even if it was clearly newer than the homes around it.

Gabe caught her expression. “Not so impressed, huh? Let me put the dog inside and grab my car keys, and we can go.” He opened the gate and stood aside to let her through. She picked her way across the gravel path to the door, which was set into the side of the house without a porch or a landing to protect it. Gabe seemed surprised that she was following him inside, but he opened the door for her and followed her in.

“It’s not much,” he said apologetically. “Give me just a minute . . .”

He was right. It wasn’t much, but it was still better than she’d expected from the outside. The whole house seemed to be done in hand-scraped hardwood floors, their surface scarred by shoes and dog claws. His living room had some real furniture—a rather worn but handsome leather chesterfield sofa and what appeared to be a hand-knotted Persian rug. She probably wouldn’t have chosen the imitation Tiffany lamp on the rustic side table, but it was far better than the horrendous glass-and-brass constructions she’d found in a lot of bachelor pads. All in all . . . not bad for a single man who wasn’t a designer. Gabe Brandt actually had a bit of taste.

Smiling to herself, she moved to the corner of the room where a compact electronic drum set stood. She picked up one of the wooden sticks and gave a mesh head a thump. It bounced back with hardly a sound. “You play?”

“Do I play?” he repeated and then poked his head out of what she assumed was the kitchen. “Oh, the drums. A little. Just for fun.”

Kendall cocked her head and studied him. She guessed she could see that. He did kind of have a drummer vibe, at least more than any other type of musician. “Everyone needs a hobby, huh?”

He disappeared again, his voice echoing a little from the other room. “Something like that. Speaking of which, what’s yours?”

“I—” She stopped. “I don’t have one, I guess.” Once, it had been design, but now that she did it for a living, nothing had slipped in to replace it. She moved toward the kitchen and then stopped. “Oh, my.”

It was a time-capsule kitchen from the eighties, with chipped ceramic-tile countertops and a backsplash that alternated dark-green glazed Mexican tiles with hand-painted white tiles—each featuring a different mountain animal. The cabinets were typical builder’s grade, which the homeowner had attempted to make look rustic by putting on bronze pulls shaped like twigs. It was . . .

“Horrible, isn’t it?” Gabriel caught her expression and surveyed the kitchen with a bemused expression. “I mean, it could always be worse, but . . .”

“Not much worse,” Kendall finished for him. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say these weren’t your design choices.”

He chuckled. “Hardly. The place is a rental. One of the only ones around here with a fenced yard, in fact. Some of the furniture is mine, and some of it was here. That gaudy lamp out in the living room, for example.”

“Sofa and rug?”

“Mine.” He studied her amusedly. “You’re judging me by my furniture choices, aren’t you?”

“I absolutely am. But I’m happy to say you passed. The rug especially is beautiful.”

“One of the only things I packed up and brought with me from Michigan. I rented a pretty little Craftsman, but I wasn’t there long enough to really put down roots. Or buy real furniture.” He put down the water bowl in what looked like a hastily handmade stand and then straightened. “If I thought I was going to stay here long term, I’d have you decorate the place.”

She flashed him a coy smile. “You probably can’t afford me.”

“Probably not.” He gave Fitz one last pat and nodded toward the living room. “Ready to go?”

She followed him out, but she waited until they were both buckled into his truck before she asked the questions on her mind. “How long have you been back in Jasper Lake anyway? And why do you say you’re not going to stay here long term?”

He put the truck in reverse and backed out of his driveway onto the street, glancing at her before he shifted into drive. “I’ve been here over a year. It was never meant to be permanent.”

“But you’re the town mayor.”

“For the time being. I’m just . . . trying to get Jasper Lake on the right track before I go.”

“I don’t understand. Why put all the work into the town if it’s not even your town?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t my town. I just said that I never meant moving back to be permanent.”

Either he was being purposely evasive or she didn’t get Gabe Brandt at all. “I don’t understand.”

He glanced at her again. “This will always be my town. It saved me. But let’s face it, it’s not like there’s a lot of work for an urban planner in this tiny mountain town.”

“I don’t know—it sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you here, especially if you can block the development and move in a different direction.”

“Yeah, but what then? I’m thirty-two. So I spend five years here getting zoning straightened out and some sort of city plan on the books . . . and then I’m thirty-seven moving to another new city?”

He had a point. It felt like once you hit your late thirties, your direction in life was set, and good luck trying to deviate from it. It was part of the reason why she didn’t want to make any big changes now. Her business was established. She and Sophie had an arrangement that worked for them, a beautiful home that acted as their showroom and design lab, and plenty of clients who knew exactly where to find them. Were they to uproot their business and move to someplace more affordable, like West Covina or Rosemead, not only would they suffer from the lack of proximity to their clientele, but it would look like they weren’t doing well . . . and by extension, like they were incompetent designers.

Unfortunately, fake it till you make it applied to most careers.

“In any case, it seems very altruistic of you.”

“Actually, it’s pretty selfish.” He threw her a rueful glance. “All my life, I knew that if things went wrong, I would have someplace to come back to. It was a safety net of sorts. And I was right. Jasper Lake was here when I needed it, just as it had always been, and I want to make sure it stays that way.”

And that right there was the difference between Gabe and Kendall. He had a safety net, someplace to go back to. She had . . . the present. Only what she had made for herself, what she had scraped together with hard work and gumption. He might not want the town to change, but she had no such luxury. She had to do what was necessary to survive.

Still, she wasn’t entirely unsympathetic. Had she grown up in a single place with any kind of meaning to her, she might feel the same way. For his sake, she hoped that they’d be able to make their interests align. Because as much as she was starting to like him, if she had to choose between his life in Jasper Lake and her life in Pasadena, it would be an easy decision. If there was one thing that being a foster kid taught you, it was to rely on yourself.

Gabe seemed unaware of the thought that now hung between them, but to her it was as impenetrable as a brick wall. She couldn’t help but think that his confidence in her—or his hopes at least—was misplaced. It was unkind to let him believe otherwise.

Fortunately, the drive to Georgetown was short, and they were soon parked in front of the county courthouse. Kendall grabbed her handbag and steeled herself for the maze of bureaucracy she was about to encounter.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Gabe asked.

“No, I’ll be okay. As long as you’re fine with waiting. I don’t know how long it’s going to take.”

Her expectation: at least two hours. Reality? Less than ten minutes.

She had to ask for directions to which window to file at, then waited for one person in front of her to be finished. She handed over the paperwork; the clerk stamped it received and then gave her a receipt for her filing. “That’s it?” she asked.

“That’s it.”

Kendall walked back out and climbed into the truck in a daze. Somehow it should be harder to make a claim on an estate that was worth over a million dollars. Not just dropping off a form and paying a nominal fee. “That was easy.”

“I figured it would be. It’s not Denver.”

“I can see that.” She glanced at him. “What now?”

“We can eat our scones and walk around town a bit, if you like. Or we can head back to Jasper Lake. Completely up to you.”

The memory of the work awaiting her snapped her focus back to her objective. “Back to Jasper Lake, I think. I want to get started on my inventory today.”

He nodded and put the truck in reverse without a hitch. “Back home it is. I probably ought to spend a little time in my office this afternoon anyway.”

Judging from his easy acquiescence, he wasn’t disappointed with her choice. But for some inexplicable reason, she thought she might be.