Authors: Kate Sweeney
“An upgrade from imbecile.” Roz winced and pulled away. “Now we’re getting someplace. Thanks.”
“Are you done playing on the lawnmower?”
“Yes, all done.”
“Good. I get to drive back.”
They walked out onto the porch and looked up when they heard the horn blare. “It’s Stan.”
“Does he have the lobsters?”
“No,” Roz said, waving to him. He drove his pickup down the gravel path toward them.
“Cracked crab?”
“Nope.”
“Please don’t tell me I have to eat buffalo meat and deer jerky. I’ll—” Bess stopped when Stan walked up to them.
He carried a large box on his shoulder like it was a shoebox. Stan was a big man. Not out-of-shape big—big like a brick shithouse big. Well over six-foot-three, Stan Moreland played football at the University of Colorado back in the day. Now in his mid-forties, he looked like he still could.
“Hey, Roz.” He smiled and looked at Bess. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Bess said.
“Hey, Stan. This is an old friend of mine, Bess Adams.”
He stuck out his hand, which Bess looked at first before cautiously offering hers.
“It’s clean,” he said. “At the moment.”
Bess grinned sarcastically and shook his hand.
Stan turned to Roz. “Got the fishing supplies. Where do
ya
want ’
em
?”
Roz opened the shop door. “Just leave them inside, thanks. I’ll put them away later. Any new flies?”
Stan set the box down inside the door and closed it. “Yep. I’ll show you how to tie them later. Maybe tomorrow. I’ve got a major problem with my
Evinrude
that I have to take care of.”
“A medical condition?” Bess asked.
She was serious. Roz hid her grin and avoided Stan, who did not—it spread across his face, revealing deep-set dimples. He took off his dirty baseball cap and ran the back of his hand against his unshaven cheek.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s been bothering me for a week now. Well, I’d better be going. Nice to meet you. Later, Roz.”
He walked off the porch, shaking his head. They watched as he drove back toward the lodge, then out of sight.
“They grow their bumpkins big out here.” Bess shrugged. “Is it dinner time yet?”
Roz pulled her off the porch. “Yes, milady. Dinner awaits.”
“And you will join me for dinner, of course.”
“Of course.”
They drove the golf cart back to the lodge in silence. Bess, of course, was at the wheel. She stole a glance at her frowning friend, who looked deep in thought.
“Does my being here bring back too many memories?” Bess asked.
“Yes, but that’s all right. It’s not like Kit hasn’t been on my mind every
fricking
minute.”
Bess winced at her angry tone. “Where can we park this thing?”
Roz motioned to the side of the patio. “Here is fine.”
As they walked to the back patio, Bess put a hand on her arm. “If it’s any consolation, Kit is as miserable as you.”
Roz laughed sadly. “Well, I suppose misery loves company.” She opened the French doors leading to the dining room. “Let’s break open a bottle of wine and forget the past.”
“Oh, I doubt there’s enough wine in the world for that, kiddo.”
“Well, we’ll give it a shot. You have your pick of tables since you’re the only one here.”
“Let’s sit by the fire. The air is certainly thin and nippy in these mountains.”
Mark was immediately at their side; well, he was at Bess’s side. “Can I get you anything, Miss Adams?”
“Oh, Mark.” Bess sighed. “If you were only ten, well twenty…”
Mark quickly sat down. “I’ll be eighteen in December. And I’ve already been accepted to Stanford, well, almost. I’m going to be a doctor.”
Roz gently cleared her throat as she stood behind the bar, opening a bottle of wine.
Bess sneered in her direction but relented. She turned back to Mark and patted his hand, chuckling inwardly when the poor young man actually whimpered. “And a wonderful doctor you will make. How about a glass of ice water?”
Mark frowned deeply but stood. “Coming right up, I guess.”
Roz watched him as he sulked his way into the kitchen. She grabbed the bottle and two wineglasses. “You’re going to give that boy a serious medical problem.”
“I’ll be good. But don’t you remember your first crush?” Bess asked as Roz poured the wine.
“No. It was far too long ago.” She sat and stretched her leg out. “As a matter of fact, do you realize it was forty years ago when I was Mark’s age and getting ready for college?”
“Forty years? And it seems just like yesterday.” She lifted her glass. “Here’s to memories.”
Roz snorted. “You’re evil.” She touched her glass to Bess’s.
Bess took a drink and nodded. “I’m no expert, but I like this.”
Stella came out with two small plates. “I’m experimenting. Let me know. Ah, a new bottle of wine. Thank you. I’d love to join you. Mark, grab a wineglass for me, would you please?”
“Can I have one, too?” he asked eagerly.
“You may not,” Stella said, sitting down.
“Is this shrimp?” Bess asked, her mouth suddenly watering.
“Bacon-wrapped shrimp,” Stella added. “Give it a try.”
“Hmm.” Bess rolled her eyes. So did Roz. “This is a wonderful combination.”
“Glad you like it.” Stella swirled her wineglass, gently breathing in the scent of the wine.
“You know what you’re doing?” Roz asked as she watched.
“I do.” Stella took a sip. “Good choice.”
“Well, you made it,” Roz said, finishing the appetizer. “You’ve whetted my appetite.”
“Me too,” Bess said eagerly.
“Good.” Stella stood and took her glass. “I’ll be back with the salads.”
“And you’ll join us?” Roz asked.
Stella took the plates and headed back to the kitchen. Bess swirled the wine in her glass, looking pensive, which was never good.
“Do you remember our vacation in San Francisco?”
Roz laughed. “What a week. Fisherman’s Wharf. The Golden Gate Bridge. What a great time.” Roz stared at her wineglass. “We were all so young.”
“Well, Kit and I were.”
Roz grinned. “This is true. But what a week. We saved for a year for that vacation.”
“You and Kit were just starting your life together. You had your business, and Kit had just become a partner in that real estate firm.”
“She’s a wiz at that stuff. So are you. I couldn’t imagine doing what you do.”
“But you do what you do, and you do it so well.” Bess stopped. “Isn’t that a song?”
Roz raised an eyebrow. “Do, do that voodoo that you do so well,” she said dryly.
Bess laughed and sang, “For you do something to me…”
“That nobody else can do…” Stella sang out as she walked up to the table. “If you’re singing Cole Porter, you’ve had enough wine.” She set three salads on the table and sat down. “Now this is my raspberry vinaigrette.”
“Yummy. Sweet yet tangy, and is this feta cheese?”
Stella nodded with a mouthful.
“It’s great, Stella,” Roz said.
“Thank you.” She sat back and took another drink of her wine. “So why are we singing Cole Porter?”
“Accidently,” Bess said between bites. “But when we were all together, we’d have sing-along nights. Remember, Roz?”
“Yeah. Kit and her mother play the piano. So on Sundays, Helen, that’s her mother, would come over.”
“And me too,” Bess chimed in.
“And Bess, too. We’d have dinner, then either Helen or Kit would play, and we’d just sing the night away.”
“Sounds like a good time,” Stella said, stealing a glance at Bess. “Nothing like good memories.” She reached over and poured three more glasses to finish the bottle. “I’ll pick the wine for dinner. We’re having chicken
marsala
and roasted Greek potatoes.”
“I’d be a blimp if I lived here,” Bess said as Stella once again disappeared into the kitchen. “But the guests will love this. So what are you charging for dinner?”
“Well, a continental breakfast is included. Stella makes her own breads and pastries,
ya
know. But we charge like a restaurant for dinner, maybe a little less.”
“Sounds like you have it all under control,” Bess said.
“I’m not good at the marketing and all that. Stella helps.” Roz stared at the fire and took a drink. “It’s just missing something,” she said absently.
“The wine? Or you?” Bess asked softly.
Roz said nothing as she took another drink—she knew the answer already.
Chapter 3
All was set for the guests’ arrival. Stella had the specials all ready and written on the large chalkboard in the dining room. She dusted off her hands and stood back to examine her handiwork.
“Aunt Stella, why do you bother with a menu when you’ll make whatever anyone wants?” Mark asked.
Stella looked over her reading glasses and put the chalk down. “For the same reason you don’t pick up after yourself because you know someone else will.”
“That’s not a good comparison. Cleaning my room has nothing…”
“The guests will be arriving soon. Are there enough clean napkins? Are the tables set? Are the water glasses clean?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.”
“No spots on the glasses?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
Without a word, Mark walked behind the bar and picked up a clean linen napkin. “What’s the point of a dishwasher?”
“They leave spots. I told you that. Nothing works like a little elbow grease.” Stella regarded her only nephew with a motherly smile. “You’re a good boy, Mark. But if you turn out like my brother, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth…” She disappeared into the kitchen along with her threat.
Mark continued rubbing the glasses free of spots when Roz walked into the dining room.
“Hey, Mark. How’s it going?” Roz looked around the tables. “Looks all set.”
“Yeah, we’re doing okay.” He motioned to the chalkboard. “Aunt Stella has the specials up. She’s in the kitchen.” He set the glass down and picked up another. “So…um…where’s Miss Adams?”
Roz cocked her head. Oh, he’s got it bad, she thought. “Well, it’s only nine o’clock. I’m sure she’s still in pleasant slumber.”
Mark stared blankly off into space while he gently ran the cloth over the glass. She didn’t even want to know what was going through his hormone-laden mind.
After a moment, Roz cleared her throat. “Um…I think that one is clean, kiddo.”
The blush that rose from his neck to his cheeks was priceless. He quickly put the down the glass. “You know,” he said hesitantly, scratching at his chin. “I think I need to start shaving.”
Roz peered closer and slipped on her reading glasses, which hung on her neck. “Yeah. I can see a whisker.”
“You really think so?”
“Sure. You’re old enough.”
“I’ll be eighteen in December.”
“Wow. Has AARP contacted you yet?”
Mark laughed, then cleared his throat. “Roz, can I…can I ask you something?”
Oh, please no…
“Sure,” she said, walking behind the bar. She took the orange juice out of the cooler and poured two glasses.
Mark sat on the barstool. “Thanks,” he said, taking the juice. He took a healthy drink before continuing, “How do you know you’re in love?”
Roz nearly spit her juice all over him. She coughed and quickly wiped her chin. “Uh…”
“I mean, I know you’re gay and all. And that’s cool. But you’re like a guy.”
“Hey…” she said indignantly.
“I don’t mean that in a bad way. You just like to do,
ya
know, outside stuff, and you love your mower.”
“That is true. I do love that thing,” she said thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t you rather talk to your father?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mark said, finishing the juice. He slid the glass back to Roz, who refilled it.
“That’ll be two bits,
pardnah
.”
“I don’t get it.”
Roz waved him off. “Go on.”
“And I can’t talk to Dad about this. Well, I could if he were ever home long enough. Or Aunt Stella, well, maybe.”
Roz tried not to smile at the serious, yet miserable look on his face as he drank his orange juice.
“So who’s the girl?”
He avoided looking at her as he toyed with his glass. “Just someone.”
“Does she know how you feel?”
“God, no. She’d probably laugh in my face and think I was some sort of kid.”
“Well…”
Stella poked her head out of the kitchen. “Mark, I need you to go into town. I just dropped an entire carton of eggs on the floor. Go, go.”
Mark finished his juice. “Okay,” he said, sounding dejected.
Roz fished the keys out of her pocket and tossed them to Mark. “Take the Jeep.”
He grinned, his love life woes all forgotten for the time being. “Can I put the top down?”
“Sure,” she said.
He ran out of the kitchen with a happy “thanks” over his shoulder. Roz sighed. “Ah, kids. I’m so glad I never had any.”
“Any what?”
Roz laughed when she saw Bess feel her way into the dining room while shielding her eyes against the morning sun. Roz snapped her fingers two or three times. “Over here, Magellan.”
“Ah, there you are.”
“Good morning.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” She sat at the bar and rubbed her temples. “Who plied me with so much alcohol last night?”
“You did it on your own. You and Stella insisted on doing your own wine tasting. And actually, it wasn’t that much. You are getting older.”
Bess groaned. “That’s right. The merlot won if I recall. It got a little hazy after the bananas Foster. But what a marvelous meal. That woman got me drunk. How is the old gal?” She raised her head. “Am I the first one up?”
“Sadly, no. She’s been up since seven.”
“I hate that woman.”
“But she did drop a carton of eggs earlier. If that’s any consolation.” Roz set a tall glass in front of her.
“What are you doing?” Bess asked, her voice full of trepidation.
“The hair of the dog that bit
ya
. Don’t worry. No alcohol.” She put ice in the glass, tomato juice, and all the fixings for a bloody Mary
sans
the Mary. “This is the magic.” Roz put an asparagus spear in the glass, then pushed it in front of Bess.
“That’s it?” she asked, eyeing the glass. “That’s your magic elixir—asparagus?”
“Just drink it.”
Bess shrugged and picked up the glass. As she took a drink, a bell rang. “Oh, God, I’m hearing bells.”
Roz laughed. “It’s the front desk. Eat that asparagus.”
She was still chuckling when she neared the front desk. A tall, very good-looking man stood there, taking in his surroundings. He wore a tan sports coat with a black T-shirt and blue jeans. His one piece of luggage looked expensive. When he saw Roz, he took off his sunglasses and grinned.
Wow, she thought, his teeth are so white. He looked like an ad for a toothpaste commercial. He may have a good chance with Bess.
“Mr. Hutchins?”
He continued to smile as he stuck out his hand. “Yes. I hope I’m not too early. Traffic from Boulder was lighter than I anticipated.”
“Not at all.” Roz presented the register. “Just need a signature and a credit card. We’ll get you all checked in.”
“Great.” He recoiled slightly when Roz offered a pen. “No offense. It’s just a thing…”
“None taken,” Roz said with a smile.
He filled out the information, signed with a flourish, and handed Roz an American Express card.
When she finished, she handed him a key. “I’ll show you to your room.”
“Wonderful, thanks.” He picked up his luggage and followed Roz up the staircase. “You have a very nice place here. Very cozy, typical Colorado.”
“Thanks,” she said, wincing as her knee started to ache. That’s all I need right now, she thought, collapse on top of my first guest of the season. “Here
ya
go.” She opened the door, then handed him his key. “Breakfast is between seven and nine. The kitchen is closed till eleven for lunch. But the bar is open all day.” She thought that sounded a tad alcoholic, but explaining herself would probably only make it worse.
Nate Hutchins looked around the room. “It’s great, thanks.” He tossed his bag on the bed.
“Do you fly fish?”
“No. Not really. I honestly came up here just to relax and take in a little fresh air for a few days.”
“Well, if you need anything at all, you just let me know. I’m always around. Or Stella, she’s my chef and right hand.”
“Not a problem, thanks.”
Roz found Bess right where she left her. At least she ate the asparagus. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better. What was in that asparagus?”
Roz put her fingers to her lips. “Trade secret.”
“So who has arrived?”
“Nate Hutchins, and he’s dreamy.”
Bess raised an eyebrow. “Dreamy?”
“That got those eyes open.”
As Roz described him, Bess raised the other eyebrow. “That does sound dreamy. You say he doesn’t fish? I like him already.”
“Down, girl.” Roz shook her finger at Bess. “Don’t scare away my customers. I already had a cancellation last week.”
“What happened?”
Roz laughed. “I had a family come in on Monday. They were from England. Nice folks, with a pretty teenage girl who had Mark tripping over himself while they were here. Sumner, I think their names were. They were very affable, very chatty, and very English. I was excited. They were my first international customers. He was a bird-watcher…”
“Oh, dear.”
Roz laughed. “I know. I sounded like an idiot telling him, yeah, we have birds. Anyway, they were all out on a walk, as they say.”
“I love the way the British talk. It’s so…”
“British? Anyway, they were out in the back by the field of clover, and he got stung by a few bees.”
Bess grinned and shook her head. “Don’t tell me, he’s allergic to the little pests.”
“Oh, God, Bess, I was terrified. Thank God Tina was next door. She drove him to the hospital. He was fine, but it put a definite damper on the week. So naturally, they had to cancel, and I refunded their money. The poor guy. It was the least I could do.”
“You’re an old softy. And you’ll never make any money,” Bess said, shaking her head.
“Well, better that than causing an international incident.”
“Not the best way to start the season. You might want to warn your guests about your fields of clover. It’s too bad they couldn’t stay and keep Junior occupied.”
“True, it would have kept his hormones off you.”
Bess pulled a face. “That sounded nasty.”
“Well, even with that cancellation, I’m booked for the next few days. Yep. It’s all good.”
“So there are no other reservations and you’re booked as in no rooms left?”
“Well, yeah, you dope. Unless you decide to leave. Why?”
“Oh, no, no reason. That’s, that’s wonderful.”
“Don’t sound so thrilled. And it’s only May.”
“Good for you.” She shivered slightly. “Speaking of spring, there’s a definite chill in the air. Start a fire for me if you please.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re supposed to get a cool front moving in. All we need is snow.”
“Bite your tongue.”
“We’re in Colorado. We can still get snow.”
“That is so sad.”
After a few minutes, the fire crackled warmly, giving the dining room a cozy glow.
“You know, Roz, I joke—”
“Incessantly,” Roz said, dusting off her hands.
“But I really am proud of you and happy for you. This place is so you. Small, unobtrusive, and unassuming, but cozy and lovable.”
They sat at a table by the fire close enough for Bess to lean forward and warm her hands. Roz looked out the window at the mountains in the distance and the creek in the foreground.
“I’m very lucky,” she said quietly. She could not, however, deny the pang of loneliness.
“Have you dated at all?”
“She asked out of the blue.”
“Answer my question.”
“I have…” Roz toyed with the saltshaker.
“Tell me. Everything.” Bess settled in, waiting for a good story.
“Tina Foster. Met her in Steamboat Springs. She’s a vet.”
“Oh, was she in Iraq?”
“What? Oh, no. A veterinarian, vet. A doctor. She’s the one who helped my bee sting gentleman.”
“I didn’t know you had any animals here.” Bess frowned deeply. “Please don’t tell me you have goats and chickens and little varmints scurrying somewhere on the property. They carry diseases, you know.” The memory of the little critter she almost hit on the road coming here flashed through her mind.
“No. The guy that owns the property behind mine. Dave Jenson. He has stables. It’s where everyone goes for horseback riding. He has some other animals running around. And they do not carry diseases.”
“Oh, yes, they do. Mad cow disease?” She held up her hand. “Wait. Nope. That was Ellen Butler in high school.”
“Anyway,” Roz continued, “the kids like the animals. And Tina stopped by last year and introduced herself. I’ve seen her a couple times, but…” Roz shrugged indifferently.