At Bluebonnet Lake (Texas Crossroads Book #1): A Novel (2 page)

“Right here is fine,” she said, pointing to an open area near the front door. “I’ll let my grandmother choose her room.” Though the bedrooms were of equal size and virtually identical with nondescript furnishings, Sally might have a preference.

“My, this is nice.” To Kate’s dismay, though there were only three steps leading to the porch, Sally was slightly out of breath. As images of heart attacks whirled through her brain, Kate forced herself to inhale deeply. There could be a less ominous cause. Sally wasn’t used to flying. Perhaps that was the reason for her apparent fatigue.

Kate’s grandmother flashed Greg a smile that bore no hint of alarm. “Thank you, young man.”

“Greg,” he reminded her before he turned to Kate. As Sally began to explore the cabin, he asked, “Would you like me to bring in your bags too?”

His voice was low and well modulated. If Kate had had to guess, she would have said it was the product of an expensive education. That increased her belief that Greg had lost his job and was filling in here until he found another position. The question was, what had he done before? He didn’t look like a lawyer or a financial planner—at least not the ones she’d met—but he moved with more assurance than most junior level managers.

Realizing that she’d been staring and hadn’t answered his question, Kate shook her head. “The screen is more important.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet, intending to tip him.

Greg shook his head, then brushed back the errant lock that had tumbled over his forehead when he’d removed his hat. “No need for that. As I told your grandmother, I’m glad to help.”

Though she doubted working at Rainbow’s End paid more than minimum wage, Kate wouldn’t insult Greg. She simply smiled and thanked him for his efforts. As soon as he’d left, she turned to her grandmother. Sally had given the bedrooms a cursory glance, chosen the one that faced the front of the cabin, then settled into one of the overstuffed chairs that flanked the large window.

“Are you sure you want to stay here?” Kate asked. Other than the helpful—and handsome—handyman, Kate had seen no reason to spend even one night, much less the entire month of April, here.

Sally ran her hand through her curls again as she nodded. “I’m as sure as I’ve ever been of anything. It’s not just my heart and the feeling that time is short,” she said, her expression as solemn as the day she’d taken Kate into the kitchen, given her a cup of hot chocolate, even though it was early May, and told her that Grandpa Larry had died.

“We need the time here,” Sally continued. “I know you didn’t want to leave your job for so long.” She gave Kate one of those looks that always made Kate uncomfortable, because they seemed to see deep inside her. “You probably think your bosses will decide they don’t need you. If this is the right job for you, it’ll be there in a month.”

“It is the right job.” Kate was as convinced of that as she was that Rainbow’s End was not a five-star resort. That was why she’d do whatever it took to keep Heather and Nick Maddox satisfied with her performance. Sally would probably disapprove, and so Kate had decided she wouldn’t tell her grandmother
that, although she was technically on vacation, she had agreed to check messages daily in case there was something Heather or Nick needed her to handle.

Though Kate had completed all of her projects, the advertising agency was small enough that one person’s extended absence would make a difference in the daily running. Instead of having separate departments like larger companies, everyone at Maddox and Associates did a little of everything. That was one of the things Kate liked about the firm where she’d spent the past four years.

“You know I wasn’t happy at the big agency.” Even though it had been the one Grandpa Larry had claimed was the best, it hadn’t been a good fit for Kate. “Maddox and Associates is perfect for me. Nick and Heather are great bosses, and everything they do is ethical.”

Kate frowned as she wondered who had done Rainbow’s End’s advertising. The pictures in the brochure verged on deceptive. While it was true that any organization would choose photographs taken from the best possible angle, the ones for Rainbow’s End were more than flattering. They were false.

“I love my job,” Kate told her grandmother, “and they seem happy with me. Heather’s even hinted that I’m being considered for a partnership.” That had been Kate’s dream for almost as long as she could remember. She’d grown up with Grandpa Larry’s stories of the challenge of advertising, and they’d convinced her that was the career she wanted. Maddox, which combined business consulting with advertising, had turned Kate’s dream into reality.

Sally smiled. “You see, I was right. They’ll miss you while you’re gone, but they won’t replace you. They’ll just realize how much they depend on you. Meanwhile, you and I will have a wonderful time here and then . . .” She paused, her expression once more solemn. “The future’s in God’s hands. Let’s stay here.”

“All right, Sally. You win.” The truth was, Kate would do almost anything for the woman who’d raised her. If Sally wanted them to spend a month here, they would.

As she started to unpack her suitcases, Kate tried to put a positive spin on the day. Perhaps Rainbow’s End wasn’t as bad as she thought. But though she gave herself a pep talk, her heart didn’t believe it.

G
reg gave the window screen one last tug, making sure the patch would hold, then began to pack up his tools. Nothing had been what he’d expected since he’d arrived at Rainbow’s End, and the look in the new guest’s eyes had simply confirmed his impressions. The elegant blonde had seen the problems as clearly as he had.

He slung the tool bag over his shoulder and headed for the office. When he’d left this morning, Greg had noticed a loose shutter on the front of the building. He probably should have fixed it right then. It would have only taken a minute to tighten the bracket. But when Angela had mentioned that new guests were expected, he’d wanted to ensure that they didn’t have the same experience he’d had his first night at Rainbow’s End. A leaky roof, particularly one that channeled water onto the bed, was not the welcome Greg had expected. Of course, few things here had been what he’d expected.

Taking a deep breath, he savored the clean air. That was one of the many attractions of the Hill Country. Smog-free air, cool breezes, tree-covered hillsides, picturesque rivers and streams, numerous lakes. Some might claim the Hill Country
was the Garden of Eden. Rainbow’s End, on the other hand, was not Greg’s idea of paradise. Perhaps at one time it had been what it billed itself as—the premier Christian resort in the Hill Country—but that was no longer true. The advertisement he’d seen three months ago had painted a picture that was far removed from reality.

As his feet crunched an acorn, Greg shook his head, realizing that although the ad had been deceptive, he had no one to blame but himself. He should have left the minute he saw the dilapidated condition of the place. That was his first clue. The second was the realization that the new owners had eliminated the Christian focus that had been one of the resort’s biggest appeals for Greg.

Angela and Tim Sinclair were clearly in over their heads. From what Greg had learned from Carmen, the one staff member who had been at Rainbow’s End before the Sinclairs took over, Angela and Tim had inherited a steady decline in occupancy. They’d made changes in an attempt to stop the cash drain, but those changes had been the wrong ones. They’d cut corners and delayed maintenance. They’d raised rates and reduced services. They’d even instituted heavy penalties for early departures. It was no wonder Rainbow’s End was on its last legs. So why was he here?

When he reached the front of the office, Greg studied the shutter. It was worse than he’d thought. The bracket that secured it to the building wasn’t loose. It was missing. He squatted and began to rummage through the dead leaves that had drifted against the foundation. His fingers encountered a plastic lid from a water bottle and an empty snack box, probably the result of the overturned trash bin he’d seen last week.

No shutter bracket. He’d have to see if the hardware store in Dupree carried any. In the meantime, he didn’t want to leave the shutter listing to the side. First impressions mattered. Of
course, the pretty blonde and her grandmother had already formed their first impressions. The grandmother appeared to be happy, but the granddaughter had seemed to be on the verge of bolting. He couldn’t blame her.

Greg considered the options for the shutter before pulling a long nail from the tool bag. It wasn’t the perfect solution, but the nail would secure the shutter until he could find a replacement bracket. With a few swift taps, the shutter was once more in position.

He tossed the hammer back into the tool bag and entered the office. As was often the case, it was empty. As far as Greg could tell, Tim spent more time in the owners’ suite above the dining room than he did working. From what Angela had said, he was as addicted to televised sports as Greg’s father.

Biting back the sour taste that thoughts of the elder Vange always brought, Greg reminded himself that, contrary to Dad’s predictions, he was a success. Look how easily he’d repaired the window screen and the shutter.

If only everything were that easy to fix. His life certainly wasn’t. When he’d come to Rainbow’s End, Greg had believed he’d find the answers he sought in a few days, no more than a couple weeks. The complete change of scenery and the slower pace of life were what he needed, or so he’d thought. He’d been convinced that once he was able to clear his mind, he’d know what the Lord had in store for him. He’d been wrong. He didn’t know any more now than he had the day he’d arrived, and so he questioned his reasons for remaining.

Greg looked around, wondering where Angela was. The computer monitor no longer flashed screen-saver pictures, so she must be gone for the day, leaving the front desk unattended. That was one thing he’d change if he owned Rainbow’s End.

Greg blinked. Where had that thought come from? It wasn’t as if he had any intention of buying the place. Definitely not.
He probably should have ignored the quiet voice deep inside him that had told him to come here in the first place. The truth was, Greg had tried. For more than a month, he’d closed his heart to the very idea of Rainbow’s End, but try though he might, he could not forget the ad he’d seen and the sense that he was being led to this particular part of the Hill Country.

Why? Surely God had more in mind for Greg Vange, the man once acclaimed as a Silicon Valley wunderkind, the man whose computer software had streamlined the operations of so many small and medium-sized businesses, than repairing window screens and shutters in a struggling resort.

Greg spun on his heels and headed outside again. It was quitting time, at least for today. The new guest—the young one—had the right idea: hightail it back to wherever she’d come from.

He narrowed his eyes as he pictured the pretty blonde. One of the coasts, he decided. East, most likely. She didn’t have a California tan, and her clothes were more formal than Westerners’. Wherever she called home, it wasn’t Dupree, Texas, population 597. There was nowhere in the town that called itself “The Heart of the Hills” where she could have gotten her hair cut like that.

Greg’s sisters had given him more than one lecture on letting only the right stylist touch their hair. “It’s got to flow,” Ashley had explained when he’d questioned the bill that had been charged to his account. “When you shake your head, it’s supposed to look like a piece of silk,” Jessica had chimed in. Even Emily and Taylor had insisted on styles that cost more than he paid for haircuts in a year. So, it seemed, did the slender blonde.

As he hung the tool bag in the oversized closet that passed for a maintenance shed, Greg tried to guess what the blonde with those unexpected brown eyes did on the East Coast. He wasn’t good at telling ages, but he thought she was a few years younger than his own thirty-two. That would mean she might be a junior executive somewhere. He dismissed the possibility
of her being a stockbroker or an accountant. That silk blouse and those perfectly tailored slacks were too trendy for that. Perhaps she worked for a pricey boutique. Not that it mattered.

Though Angela had said the new guests were staying for a month and had made a nonrefundable payment, Greg doubted they’d last that long. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop while he repaired the screen, but the voices of the blonde and her grandmother had carried clearly. And, from what he heard, it was clear the blonde had a job to return to, a job she loved, a job with a future. Greg, on the other hand, lacked even a hint of what his future would hold.

He clenched his fists, then released them slowly. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He had never been one to dither. From the time he’d been a teenager, his future had been clear. At first he hadn’t dreamt of having his own firm, but he’d known that writing computer software was what he wanted to do. And now . . . Maybe Drew was right that he needed him.

At the time, Drew had been touting his own skills and how they complemented Greg’s. But maybe Drew had seen what Greg hadn’t been able to. Perhaps Greg did need a partner.

The question remained: a partner to do what?

It will be all right, Kate told herself as she hung the last blouse in the tiny closet. Though the cabin would win no awards for decorating, it had what she’d heard described as good bones. The rooms, while small, were well proportioned with generously sized baseboards and door moldings. The closet doors were even real doors, not those accordion pleated vinyl ones that some hotel chains seemed to prefer. While the furniture was a bit rustic for her taste, it was in reasonable condition. What the cabin needed were things to brighten it: fresh paint and some artwork for the walls, colorful bedspreads and curtains.

Kate shook her head. It was silly to be thinking about redecorating the cabins. It wasn’t as if this were her home. It was temporary lodging, with the emphasis on temporary. The only reason she was focusing on her surroundings was that it kept her worries relegated to the back of her brain.

She checked the pockets on the rollaboard for the third time, then, satisfied that they were empty, zipped it shut and slid it under the bed. As she did, she heard the creak of the bed in the other room. Sally.

The fears Kate had tried to block came rushing back, starting with the seriousness of her grandmother’s heart condition. After Sally had played what Kate called the trump card to convince her to come here, Kate had called the doctor, but he’d refused to tell her anything, citing patients’ confidentiality rights. The most Dr. Morrison would say was that he believed there was no reason Sally should not take this trip. That was good news. There was no reason to worry, and yet Kate did, because she didn’t know what she would do without her grandmother. Sally had been the one constant in her life.

Three short strides took Kate to the window. If she craned her neck, she could see the next cabin. Constructed of painted cinder block, it appeared to be even larger than number 12. Perhaps that was the reason it looked unoccupied. This was, after all, not peak season. It was likely that the majority of guests were couples who might not want to pay for rooms they wouldn’t use.

Kate and Sally might have shared a room had it not been for the length of their stay. When they’d planned this trip, they’d agreed that a bit of privacy would be good. Sally would read, and Kate . . . She paused, then chuckled. Kate would check her messages. It was what she always did.

She glanced at her watch. Sally had looked so exhausted when she’d announced that she was going to take a nap that Kate imagined she’d sleep for another hour. Perfect. She pulled
her cell phone out of her purse and frowned. Not a single bar. Another strike against Rainbow’s End.

Kate looked around her room, then walked into the living room and performed the same inspection. No phones, not even a phone jack. She hadn’t been surprised by the absence of a television. The brochure had claimed that was one of Rainbow’s End’s advantages, a way of helping guests enjoy the natural beauty of the Hill Country without unnecessary distractions.

Kate could live without a TV. But cell service was a totally different story. She needed, she absolutely needed, to be able to connect. When she’d persuaded Heather that taking a month off wouldn’t cause irreparable damage to Maddox and Associates, Kate had assumed she’d have cell service. It appeared that was a bad assumption.

She had seen a phone in the office. Surely she could use that, if only for today. While she wouldn’t be able to check email or texts, at least she’d be able to call the office. Tomorrow she’d figure out a way to do all that she’d promised her employers. After sliding her phone into her bag alongside the laptop that she’d brought in case she needed to do heavy-duty computing, Kate scribbled a note for Sally and quietly closed the cabin door behind her.

As she stood on the porch, taking a deep breath, she glanced at the swimming pool on the opposite side of the road. An iron fence with the same design as the resort’s entrance gates kept small children out. Not that there was much danger today. The pool was covered, and the diving board had been removed. Even in Texas, it was too cold to swim outside in early April. Kate didn’t mind that, but she did wish there were chairs for the porch. She’d ask for them as soon as she resolved the phone problem.

Moving briskly, Kate made her way to the office and wasn’t surprised when she found it empty. Though most hotels had
someone at the front desk at all times, it was clear that Rainbow’s End was not most hotels. Kate rang the bell to summon Angela Sinclair, then tried not to tap her fingers on the counter as she waited. Where was the woman? As tempted as she was to simply pick up the phone and place her call, Kate wouldn’t do that without permission. She rang the bell again, this time pounding it a bit harder.

Still no response. The only sound was a woman singing. Though the melody was haunting, Kate could not understand the lyrics. With a sigh, she headed toward the sound. A short hall with three interior doors on the left and an exterior entrance on the right appeared to connect the office to the two-story building that housed the dining room. Though the first and third doors were closed, the singing came from the middle one.

Kate peeked in and found herself at the kitchen, where a woman a couple inches shorter and a few pounds heavier than her grandmother was crooning in Spanish as she sprinkled what smelled like oregano into a large bowl.