At Bluebonnet Lake (Texas Crossroads Book #1): A Novel (3 page)

“Hello.” Kate hoped the woman spoke English, because her knowledge of Spanish was limited to
por favor
and
gracias
with an occasional
hola
thrown in for good measure.

“Can I help you?” the dark-haired woman asked, her light accent as melodious as her singing had been. Kate guessed the woman, who was only an inch or two over five feet and a good ten pounds more than the recommended weight for her height, to be in her midfifties. If Sally were here, she would have described her as jolly, for her smile was more welcoming than the one Angela Sinclair had given them.

Kate nodded. “I’m Kate Sherwood, a new guest. I’m looking for a couple things.” She might as well start with something that would benefit Sally. “Are there any outdoor chairs? Rocking chairs or maybe Adirondack? My grandmother and I would like to sit on our porch.”

The woman nodded. “There are a few in the shed. I’ll ask KOB to clean them up and bring them to you.”

“Mr. Cobb?” Greg hadn’t volunteered his last name, but he was the only other staff member Kate had seen.

A peal of laughter greeted her question, reinforcing the woman’s pleasant disposition. “Sorry! We have three teenagers who help out here—Kevin, Olivia, and Brandi. I call them KOB for short.”

“That makes sense. We use acronyms for almost everything, don’t we?”

“TLAs according to my daughter.” When Kate nodded, signifying that she recognized the acronym for three-letter acronyms, the woman raised a brow. “You said you were looking for a couple things. What else besides chairs?”

“I really need a phone. I’ve been trying to get a cell signal, but this must be a dead zone.”

The woman ran her hands under the faucet and turned back toward Kate. “The only phone is in the office. We used to have a pay phone outside, but the phone company took it away.”

Kate wasn’t surprised. Though she hadn’t actively looked for one in the past few years, she’d heard others bemoaning the fact that it was difficult to find a pay phone when their cell phone batteries died. “Do you think Ms. Sinclair would mind if I used the office phone?” The computer would be better, but she wouldn’t ask for that. Not today.

“I can’t say. Angela’s gone for the afternoon. She and Tim go to San Antonio once a week. I heard them call it their date night.”

Or their escape from Rainbow’s End. Kate couldn’t imagine what it must be like, living here permanently, especially now that she’d discovered there was no cell service. “Is there anyone else I can ask?” Even though she would charge the calls to her own line, Kate felt uncomfortable invading another person’s office space without permission.

“I’m afraid not.” The woman gave Kate another smile. “I should have introduced myself earlier. I’m Carmen St. George. You’ve probably guessed that I’m the cook here.”

Unlike the chefs Kate had seen on TV, Carmen did not wear a white jacket. Instead, she had a voluminous blue gingham apron tied over her navy polo and khaki pants. Perhaps that was why she called herself a cook and not a chef. Kate had never understood the distinction. What she did know was that the aromas coming from the industrial-sized range were making her mouth water.

“Whatever you’re making smells delicious.” And unlike the other parts of Rainbow’s End that Kate had seen, the kitchen appeared to be in excellent condition. In addition to gleaming stainless steel appliances, it boasted two islands, one marble-topped for pastry making, the other with a butcher-block top and separate sink.

Carmen shrugged. “Tonight’s spaghetti and meatballs. By the time you leave, you’ll know the menu. Every week is the same.”

The brochure hadn’t mentioned that. It had waxed eloquent over the homestyle meals and promised genuine Western fare. Though Kate liked spaghetti, it was not her idea of Western cuisine. “Don’t the guests mind?”

A wry smile lit Carmen’s face. “Not many stay more than a week.”

Which might explain the punitive cancellation policy. “Isn’t it boring, cooking the same thing every week? I don’t claim to be a chef, but I enjoy trying new recipes. I made Thai chicken last week, and if I say so myself, it was delicious.”

Carmen’s smile turned into a chuckle. “You won’t find any of that here. The Sinclairs like to keep things simple. The most daring experiment I’ve tried is changing the seasonings in the meat loaf. I added cloves and nutmeg once.”

“How was that received?”

“Not well. It seems that one of the guests was allergic to cloves. I’d never heard of that allergy, but ever since, I’ve stuck to the basics.”

“So I won’t find any cloves in tonight’s meatballs?”

“Definitely not.” Carmen’s glance at the clock reminded Kate that she had interrupted her.

“I’d better leave you to your work.”

“Can I get you something to drink before you leave? Soda, lemonade? There’s a small refrigerator in the dining room.” Carmen pointed toward the door at the far end of the kitchen. “I keep it stocked with beverages, and at night I put out milk and cookies.”

“Really? That sounds both delicious and decadent.”

“And you sound like my daughter. She’s always counting calories or fat grams.”

Guessing that Carmen’s daughter would be around her age, Kate asked whether she lived in Dupree.

A shadow crossed Carmen’s face. “Atlanta. I don’t see her very often. You know how it is with careers. You young people get so busy that there’s no time for the older generation.”

Kate heard the pain, although Carmen tried to hide it. She wouldn’t tell her that, even though they lived four hundred miles apart, she visited Sally at least once a month. That would only hurt Carmen, and the kindly woman didn’t deserve that.

“For the record,” Kate said, infusing her voice with a light tone, “I would never describe you as old.”

As she’d hoped, Carmen grinned. “For that, you can have an extra cookie . . . if you dare.”

They both laughed as Kate feigned a look of horror.

T
he sound of women laughing drew Greg toward the kitchen. There was no mistaking Carmen’s light chuckle, but the other woman’s laughter was unfamiliar. Since school wouldn’t be out for another half hour, it was too early for KOB to be here, and he hadn’t heard any cars arriving. By process of elimination, he figured the woman with Carmen must be the new guest. The young one. Greg smiled at the thought that she’d found a reason to laugh. She’d seemed far too serious for a woman who was supposed to be on vacation.

“Do you mind telling me what’s so funny?” he asked as he entered the kitchen.

Carmen gave the blonde a conspiratorial look. “You had to be here to appreciate it. Have you met Kate Sherwood?” Without waiting for his reply, Carmen turned toward Kate. “This is Greg Van—”

“I’m glad to meet you, Kate.” Greg extended his hand, hoping she hadn’t noticed that he’d interrupted Carmen. So far no one in Dupree other than Roy Gordon had connected his name with his past, but Kate Sherwood was different. She obviously had some sort of corporate background, so she might have heard of
Sys=Simpl. It was possible she’d used the software he’d spent a decade perfecting.

While he had nothing to hide, Greg knew how quickly news spread in a small town. The last thing he needed was for the good folks of Dupree to learn that they had a billionaire in their midst. He’d had too much experience with the way attitudes changed when people viewed him as a walking dollar sign instead of a real person. Kate might be different, but there was no reason to take the chance.

She placed her hand in his, the firm shake confirming Greg’s impression that she was accustomed to being in control. Her fingers were long and slender, her hand soft but strong, reminding him of that tired image of steel encased in velvet. It might be a cliché, but Greg suspected it applied to more than Kate Sherwood’s hands. There was a strength about her that came from being comfortable in her own skin.

If he were a betting man, Greg would have bet that Kate had been part of the in crowd in school, perhaps not the class president but certainly one of the girls who never had to worry about a date. And now she was here, shaking hands with him and smiling at him as if he were captain of the football team rather than the boy who’d always been picked last.

“If you won’t let me in on the joke, at least tell me why you’re in the kitchen,” Greg said as he released Kate’s hand.

“I was offering Kate cookies.”

“I was looking for a phone.”

The two responses came at the same time, almost canceling each other. Greg focused on Kate’s answer. She’d probably already discovered, as he had his first day at Rainbow’s End, that there was no cell service. The hills might be picturesque, but they also blocked signals.

“Angela won’t mind if you use the office phone once or twice. I’ve done that myself,” he told Kate.

“I’m afraid it will be more often than that.” He’d been wrong about her eyes. They weren’t the color of chocolate. They were more of a nut brown, with all the shading that nature provided. Right now those eyes were serious as they met his gaze. “I really need an internet connection.”

“So this is a working vacation?” Greg was hardly an expert on vacations, working or otherwise. The twenty-four to forty-eight hours he spent at his parents’ home each Christmas could hardly be classified as a vacation, and until he’d come to Rainbow’s End, those were the only times he’d taken off from work since his college days.

“That’s one way of describing it.” Kate’s tone was cool, as if she sensed his disapproval. It wasn’t that Greg disapproved. Not entirely. He simply knew that there had to be better ways to live than focusing on work 24/7. That was why he was here, to discover at least one of those better ways.

Perhaps he was wrong to bait her, but Greg couldn’t resist. He wanted to see if her eyes changed color when she became angry.

“What term would you prefer to ‘working vacation’?”

As she raised one eyebrow, Kate’s eyes took on an amber hue. He’d been right. Their color was as changeable as her moods. “How about keeping in touch with the real world?”

As Carmen chuckled, Greg feigned indignation. The truth was, he’d had a similar reaction when he’d first arrived, as if he’d passed through some invisible portal and been transported back in time. Either that or he’d stumbled into a living museum. “You don’t consider Rainbow’s End the real world?”

“Oh, it’s the real world all right,” Kate conceded. “The world of 1970 before anyone heard of smartphones and text messages.”

He had to hand it to her. She was beautiful, smart, and sassy. This woman had it all.

Though Carmen had resumed her cooking and was now forming some of what Greg knew to be mouthwateringly deli
cious meatballs, he had no doubt that she was enjoying the conversation.

“That was before my time,” he told Kate, “but I think I saw a rotary phone around here if you’re feeling nostalgic.”

“Let me guess.” She tipped her head to the side, pretending to ponder the possibility. “It’s stored next to the vinyl records.”

Greg nodded. “With my favorite polyester leisure suit and white patent leather shoes.”

What had been a smile turned into a laugh. “I can’t quite picture you in that.”

Nor could Greg. “You should be glad Rainbow’s End doesn’t have theme nights like some resorts. If they did, you might find yourself in a gold lamé jumpsuit.”

“I’m afraid gold isn’t one of my colors. Now, to return to the subject, is there any way to get an internet connection other than using the office computer?”

They were back to business, and that was unfortunate. It had felt good to banter with Kate. “There’s cell service in Dupree,” Greg told her. “Since the only way to get to Rainbow’s End is through Dupree, I know you saw it . . . if you didn’t blink. At any rate, it’s three miles down the road.”

She nodded, the faint furrows between her eyes making him wonder if she’d noticed the number of vacant stores. Lone Star Trail, which was Dupree’s main street, wasn’t too bad. The grocery store, post office, bank, and Dupree’s sole gas station were still in operation, and just driving by, Kate would not have realized that the smaller of the two churches held services only every other week because it was unable to support a full-time pastor. It was the side streets where Dupree’s failing economy was most visible.

“The Sit ‘n’ Sip on Pecan Street has wireless,” Greg continued, “but if you’re used to Starbucks, you might not like their coffee. It tends to be strong and bitter.”

“I’ll order extra sugar and cream.” Kate seemed to have made a mental note.

“Or you could turn this into a real vacation and forget checking messages.”

A look of sheer horror crossed her face, but the smile that accompanied her words told Greg she was only pretending. “The next thing I know, you’ll be telling me to give up caffeine.” Her eyes were back to that lovely nut brown.

“Even I wouldn’t suggest that.” Although if he kept talking to her, he wouldn’t need artificial stimulants. Greg felt as if he’d had an infusion of caffeine directly to his bloodstream. Though their topics of discussion were hardly on the level of world peace and eliminating the national debt, he was more energized than he’d been in months. Perhaps longer.

“Are you really determined to work?”

Her expression once more serious, she nodded. “You make it sound like a fatal disease.”

“I didn’t mean that. It’s just that there’s a time for everything, and that includes rest.” As the words spilled from his mouth, Greg practically choked on the irony. He certainly hadn’t done much resting since he’d arrived at Rainbow’s End. After years of working almost 24/7, he’d found it difficult to do nothing. How could he blame Kate when he was guilty of the same misdemeanor?

“What do you do that needs daily connections?”

“I’m in advertising.”

That explained the clothes that were neither too conservative nor too trendy. She would walk the middle line rather than risk offending potential clients.

“In New York?”

Kate nodded. “Lower Manhattan. Maddox and Associates is a small firm, but we’ve got some big-name clients.”

“Any I’d recognize?”

“Possibly. Do you eat at Sid’s Seafood?”

Greg shook his head. “Not often, but I’ve seen the ads on TV. The ads are better than the food.”

A laugh spilled from those perfectly shaped lips. “Thank you. I was responsible for those ads.”

She was good. More than good, and if there was one thing Greg appreciated, it was excellence.

“All right.” He gave her a quick nod. “I can’t get your phone to work here, but if you have a laptop”—and he’d bet she was carrying one with her—“there might be a way.”

Greg had expected her to be pleased, but Kate’s reaction exceeded his expectations. The smile she gave him was so bright you’d think she’d just been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

He was going to help her. Kate couldn’t stop smiling. Perhaps the month at Rainbow’s End wouldn’t be as bad as she’d feared. The place might be a bit rundown, and there didn’t appear to be much to do, but the staff, with the notable exception of Angela Sinclair, was pleasant. More than pleasant. Carmen had made Kate feel welcome, and Greg whatever-his-last-name-was was the most interesting man she’d met in a long time. He was smart and funny—handsome too—and he was going to help her, even though it was obvious he didn’t approve.

It wasn’t as if she were a workaholic. Admittedly, she worked long hours when she was preparing a proposal, but she also knew how to play or at least how to relax. Still, there was no denying that being able to use her laptop would make her days here easier. With access to her messages, Kate would know what was happening back at the office and wouldn’t have to worry.

“Come with me.” Greg led her back into the hallway and unlocked the first door, indicating that this was the supply room. Although the word
room
suggested something more impressive,
the reality was nothing more than a medium-sized closet with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with what appeared to be everything from lightbulbs to yellowing rolls of adding machine tape. Perhaps Greg hadn’t been joking about rotary phones and gold lamé jumpsuits.

As Kate watched, he pulled out a stepladder and began rummaging on the top shelf. “Success! I thought I’d seen this.” He handed her some sort of electronic component with a short cable attached and descended the ladder.

“What is it?”

“A modem.” His voice was filled with satisfaction.

Kate studied the object in her hand. “It doesn’t look like my cable modem.”

“That’s because it’s not a cable modem.” Greg chuckled, his voice warming her more than the Texas sun. “You don’t think a place that doesn’t have wireless would have cable, do you?”

It was a valid point, and yet . . . “I saw a computer in the office. It must be connected to the internet.”

“It is. With a modem. A simple telephony modem like the one you’re holding.”

Kate wrinkled her nose, remembering the horror stories she’d heard about dial-up connections. “I think I heard about them in an ancient history class.”

“Have you also heard that beggars can’t be choosers?” Greg closed and locked the door, then gestured in the direction of the office. “Right this way.” The office was as empty as it had been half an hour before. “We’ll go into the main lodge,” he said with a nod at the door on the opposite wall.

Kate had paid no attention to it on her previous two visits, having been more focused on the work space. With a gallantry she thought had disappeared along with polyester leisure suits, Greg reached in front of her to open the door. She took a step inside, then stopped, amazed at the beauty.

Nothing in the office or her cabin had led her to expect this. The other parts of Rainbow’s End were functional; this was simply magnificent. A soaring ceiling with exposed beams drew her gaze upward, while two walls with large windows overlooking Bluebonnet Lake beckoned her in their direction. A third wall held a massive stone fireplace where Kate could envision warming her toes on a cool night. Only the fourth wall, the one with the door to the office, was ordinary.

She looked around, her attention drawn to details. The upholstered furniture was shabby with threadbare spots; the tables’ nicks and dings bore witness to too many years of use. And yet, despite the obvious need for maintenance, the room was spectacular.

“I wonder why this isn’t in the brochure. It wouldn’t need much photoshopping to make it look inviting.” If she were planning the photo shoot, Kate would drape cozy afghans over the worst of the upholstered pieces and apply polish to camouflage some of the scratches in the wood.

Greg shrugged. “The whole place must have been something to see in its heyday.”

“That’s what my grandmother says. The funny thing is, I never thought she wore rose-colored glasses, but she doesn’t seem to notice all that’s wrong here.”

“She must be an optimist.” He gestured toward a low table flanked by three chairs on the wall next to the office.

“You might be right.
South Pacific
is her favorite movie. Maybe today’s her cockeyed optimist day.” Kate wouldn’t tell Greg that her grandmother claimed love at first sight, à la “Some Enchanted Evening,” was real. Kate had never experienced it, and she doubted that the obviously single man who was going to work some kind of magic on her laptop had, either.