| |
A blue Ford Explorer was parked next to the house. Good thing she had locked up. She pulled in next to it, grabbed her parcels, and headed around the building to the front door that looked out over the flower garden. While she couldn’t see anyone, she could hear someone hammering out of sight.
Should she call 911? Was there anyone to help besides the man who’d been in the store?
She looked around for something solid. By the time someone got here, the person would be gone. This was rough-and-tough Montana. It was up to her to defend her property.
And she was so ill-suited to the task, she had to stifle a laugh as she searched through the kitchen drawers. Finally, armed with a rolling pin, she marched out the front door and stalked in the direction of the noise.
A tall, sturdily built man stood by one of the cabins, hammering a board beside a window. As she drew closer, walking as stealthily as she could, he seemed to tense slightly, then relax.
“I know you’re there,” he called out. “Wait a moment while I get this last nail in.”
How did he know? She’d been quiet.
Finally, he turned, his hammer still in his hand. She’d last ten seconds in a good fight. But she gripped her rolling pin more firmly.
She immediately recognized his dark brown eyes. He’d always said more with them than with words.
The rolling pin dropped to the ground.
“Ryan.”
“Hello, Kelly. I heard you were in town.”
Her heart beat faster, and her breath seemed snatched away by the air. Ryan had aged well. His brown hair was shaggy, as if he cut it himself, and his face, while still mostly unlined, held decades of experience.
They stood there awkwardly for a moment, then he put down his hammer and held out his hand. “Good to see you again.”
“You too,” she said. “But why are you here? I don’t remember hearing about anyone coming to do repairs.”
“Henrietta asked me to do a few things around here.”
“May I point out that my grandmother has been dead several months?”
“I do know that. You should have come to her service. It was a grand affair, just like she wanted. A huge party. Some of the most well-known musicians played for hours.”
“I ... I didn’t know about it,” she said. The space between them that had seemed almost intimate a few seconds before widened into a deep crack.
“Ah. Your mother kept it from you.”
“I suppose. If she even knew.” Kelly and her mother might have their differences, but no one else was allowed to participate. “So how did this ghost get you to do her chores?”
Ryan laughed. “I could tell you she appeared to me in a dream, but the truth is, Bruce emailed me and sent me a list of things Henrietta had wanted done around the place. But she’d only wanted them done once you’d arrived to take over the property.”
“I’m not staying,” she said.
“Too bad,” he said, his eyes almost changing color as he retreated without taking a step. “Okay then. I have my instructions and you’re here, so if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to it and leave you be. Have a good day.” He turned and retrieved his hammer before disappearing.
Come back, she wanted to scream. For some insane reason, she needed to know every last detail of his life. Why was he doing chores for Henrietta instead of working on quilts as Maggie had indicated? Had he been in love? Had a family?
She picked up the rolling pin and headed back to the house. You set me up, Grandma. You set me up, and it didn’t end well.
WHAT HAD HE EXPECTED?
Ryan tapped in some nails and held the board in place. Taking a mighty swing, he cursed as the nail immediately bent.
What he hadn’t expected was to have a fire set in his belly by the mere appearance of a girl he’d cared for a long time ago. He carefully avoided the word “love,” although he’d used it to describe his feelings for Kelly when he was fourteen—at least to himself. “Love” was no longer in his vocabulary.
He’d known he hadn’t truly been in love with his wife; his feelings for Lorelei didn’t burn nearly as bright as they had for Kelly. But they’d seemed to love enough, at least for a while. No, it was while working as a New York City cop and watching what human beings did to each other that had eradicated the word.
He looked in the direction Kelly had gone. She’d been so sweet, so vulnerable as a young girl. All he’d wanted to do was protect her so she could make her beautiful music, the music that had set his soul free.
But she’d made it clear she wasn’t here for long. Best keep to himself and avoid her.
Yanking out the bent nail, he picked up a new one and tapped it in.
ONCE SHE STOWED HER groceries, Kelly changed into work clothes. She searched through the CDs by the downstairs sound system and started a thundering Beethoven symphony to suit her mood. Then she returned to the papers upstairs. She tore through them, not stopping to give more than a cursory glance to their contents, although some seemed to beg her to linger.
At the end of an hour, she had nothing to show.
She repeated the exercise with all the drawers in the house. She had to get out of here before old memories and dreams ensnared her in their web. The past was exactly that, and it needed to stay where it was. Reality was another decade of teaching, supporting her children, and looking forward to grandchildren to pamper.
Grabbing her water bottle, she headed to the barn. If that is where her grandmother kept her office, it was the most likely place for the note to be. It was also where she’d find the instructions on running the place, documents she would dutifully pass along to whoever bought it. She’d find the note, set the sale in motion, ship back whatever she wanted to keep, and wipe her hands of this place and its ghosts.
Ryan was working outside the barn when she arrived.
“Door’s open,” he said when she started going through her key ring.
“How did you get in?” she asked.
“Henrietta gave me a set of keys ages ago.”
She couldn’t have him appearing whenever he wanted. “Yes, well, I’ll need them back as soon as you’re through today.”
“Yes, ma’am.” As she opened the door, he added, “Sounds like you’re upset about something or other.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.”
She stepped into the barn and was almost blown back by the effect of Beethoven at full blast.
“How do you turn it down?” she yelled.
He pointed toward a room at the back of the barn. “It’s in the office,” he shouted.
She hesitated a nanosecond to see if he’d offer to handle it, but he went right back to work.
Ugh. She’d made him angry, and there was no use in trying to fix it. He’d be gone soon.
She raced to the back of the barn and realized the office door was locked. Frantically going through her keys as the music thumped, she finally located the right one. Once she found the sound system, she punched buttons until silence mercifully descended.
After a deep breath, she looked around the office. There was a lot of paper, but there was also a new laptop sitting in the middle of the desk. Bruce had given her the password in the documents he’d handed her.
Would her grandmother hide a note there?
Probably not. Her grandmother was very precise with words, and a note meant something written.
As Kelly started looking through things, her enthusiasm, as well as the embers of her anger, fell away. There wouldn’t be anything here. This office was all about her grandmother’s business and retreats. Only an aging photo showed anything personal.
Kelly picked it up. The intricate wooden frame held a photo of her at a young age, arms around two other girls. All were smiling. In the edge of the background, a boy lingered. From the angle of his head, it appeared he was staring intently at the three of them.
Their lives were beginning back then. Heartache and happiness lay before them. There had been a feeling of expectancy in their lives, a possibility for greatness.
Had she given it all away for routine and security?
“Mind if I come in?” Ryan called from the doorway. “Henrietta wanted me to take a look at some of the cupboard doors that are sagging.”
“Sure,” she said, giving the office one more look. The note wasn’t going to be in any of the usual places paper might be. She was sure of that now.
She walked into the larger space. With her rush to the office, she hadn’t really had time to take it in. The back wall across from the main door, where Ryan was working, consisted of cabinets and cupboards that ran all the way across. She walked to one close to her and discovered a treasure of art supplies. Opposite the cabinets was a round table with chairs. The remaining wall, opposite Henrietta’s office, had a small kitchen area with microwave, coffeepot, electric water heater, and refrigerator as well as kitchen supplies.
She went to Ryan. “Sorry,” she began. “I’ve been nothing but rude. The only excuse is that this is all so unexpected, and I’m a bit thrown by it.”
“Apology accepted. I have only a few more things to do before I get out of your hair. Then you can do whatever you have to and move on.”
She clasped her hands together, trying to figure out how to smooth things over. Glancing at the kitchen area, she asked, “Do you want a cup of coffee? I’m sure I can figure out how to make it.”
He finally looked at her. Close up, she could see more detail in the fine lines that defined his face. Some of them seemed etched there by worry and grief. Her first assumption of a happy life, hadn’t been correct. What had happened to him? But the smile he gave her was genuine, an echo of the boy she’d known.
“That would be nice.”
She readied the coffee, sneaking glances at him as she worked. Whatever had attracted her physically as a teen, when she had no idea what that was all about, was still there. Ryan wasn’t classically handsome, but he had the rugged angles of a man used to being active.
He was just finishing up when the coffee was ready. She poured it into one of the handmade mugs that hung on a rack and brought it to him.
“So what have you been doing for the last few decades?” she asked.
“This and that,” he said. “And you?”
“The same.”
He grinned at the standoff. “What are you looking for?”
“How do you know I’m looking for something?”
“I heard rumors. Small town, you know. Tale is that Henrietta left you a puzzle to solve.”
“Nothing so Gothic,” she said. “I just have to find the note she left me, read it, then I can list the place and head back to my real life.”
“Too bad. Summer’s the best time around here. You should really think about staying for a while. I might be persuaded to take you hiking. There are some great views of the lake and mountains that are easy trails.” The smile blossomed into the expression that had always made her feel like she was someone special.
“I ... that would be ... interesting,” she stammered out.
He roared with laughter.
“You have been a long time away. You’d take any chance to get into the mountains when you were younger. Said they sang to you.” He shook his head. “Who have you become, Kelly Richards? And what’s it going to take to bring you home to yourself?” He slugged down his coffee and picked up his tools. “Think about it. What do you have in your life right now that’s more important than being in the last remaining best place in the country?”
“I have kids, things to do, school to prepare for,” she said rapidly.
“No husband?”
“He died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“And your kids. What are they up to?”
She gave him a brief sketch of Lisa and Peter.
“So your kids aren’t even at home,” he said. “School doesn’t start for another few months. Do it, Kelly. You owe it to the kid you used to be. One more summer fling.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s good. I need to get some supplies to fix the cabinets.” He pulled out his phone. “Give me your number, and I’ll give you a call before I come back. That way I won’t startle you.”
She recited the digits. He entered them and then headed for the door. Pausing, he said, ”Henrietta always knew us better than we knew ourselves. If I were you, I’d look for that note where you are most yourself.” He waved and disappeared ... without returning the keys.
Where she was most herself.
Suddenly, she knew exactly where to find that note.
She dashed to the front door, ready to put her plan in action, then she stopped.
Ryan stood under the same tree he had in the photo in Henrietta’s office. When Kelly appeared, he studied her, his expression serious, before a slow, bittersweet smile developed.
“Stay,” he said, barely loud enough for her to hear.
Then he waved and headed to his vehicle.
She watched him get in and head out of sight, a small hollow in her chest echoing the emptiness. Her gaze moved away from the empty spot and panned the scene before her: a riot of bright flowers segued into tall grass, with cabins of various shapes and sizes dotting the space between her and the sparkling waters of the lake.
Her grandmother had named the cabins after Greek goddesses and muses. Athena was the first for the goddess of art, Terpsichore the second for poetry and dancing, Melpomene for tragic drama, the Euterpe for music. She could almost feel Grandma’s arms enclosing her, making her feel safe no matter what storms went on around her. It had been a time when she didn’t need to be in charge, a time to play, to dream. She turned toward the spot where Ryan had lingered.
Maybe to love.
There was no real purpose to returning to California. Here, she might have a chance to remember who she was before claiming the roles of wife and mother. It was only a summer.
She’d stay.
