Morgan

by Chris Keniston

  “Oh look.” She fingered a large brass ring with a few tarnished skeleton keys attached. “I guess they did have locks after all.” She looked around. “Somewhere.”

  “Bring them along; they might open some other doors in town.”

  “Good idea.” She slid the ring onto her wrist and took that as a cue to continue down the street. Only a few steps and her arms flew up, a single leg stepped back and a single syllable screech escaped from her lips.

  “Whoa, there.” Leaping forward, he caught her waistline in time to stop her from toppling over. One heel caught in the wooden walkway, if she’d fallen over she might have done some serious damage, including break that pretty little city girl neck. Easing her forward, he waited a moment to make sure she’d regained her balance. “Let’s see what’s going on here.”

  On bended knee, he gripped the heel of the shoe and tugged. Not budging an inch, that plan was not going to work. Letting his fingers wrap around her ankle, he lifted her foot from the shoe. “Might be easier to break free if you’re not wearing it.”

  She nodded, and wobbling a moment, found her balance and slid her foot out of the shoe. “Better?”

  “Better.” He nodded. A few twists and tugs and the shoe was free, heel intact. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you.” Their fingers briefly touched as he handed off the footwear, and an odd sense of loss filtered through him when she stepped out of reach.

  The moment of unexpected contact gone, they passed two more storefronts, Morgan pausing just long enough to search for wood-destroying insects, deteriorating mortar, water damage, or anything else that would add to the cost of refurbishing these old buildings. Except for the first stop, he’d been quickly perusing the interiors through the dirty windows. “Good thing shiplap is popular again.”

  She did a three hundred and sixty degree twirl, pausing midway, just long enough to merrily shout a response. “You can thank the original Joanna Gaines for that one!”

  When they reached the old brothel, Valerie stopped and took in the view, nodded her head, and then peered through the large glass doors. “Oh my.”

  Curious, he picked up his pace and stopped at the second of the entry doors. Oh my was definitely an understatement. The exterior of the building was painted a pristine white without a single blemish to reflect its age, but the inside was superb. Through clean glass he could see every inch of the masterful woodwork, from the closest baseboards to the staircase across the way.

  Valerie inched away from the glass and her gaze lingered over the updated exterior. The flowered pots, working shutters, high gables, and restored siding. The sisters, and Jamie, had done an outstanding job.

  “So.” She spun around to face him. “Theoretically, the whole town could be spruced up like this.”

  He bobbed his chin. “Theoretically.”

  “I wish we could go in.”

  “Let’s see if we can’t.” He pulled out his phone and texted his aunt Eileen. If the woman was resting her foot on the sofa, she’d probably be delighted to be assigned a task.

  Standing close enough for him to smell the vanilla scent of her shampoo, Morgan resisted the urge to lean over and start pulling the hairpins out, one by one. Before his mind could continue down the untoward path it had embarked on, the phone dinged and he looked down.

  “And there you have it.” Thrilled his aunt had come through as expected, he stepped to the right of the doorway and counting three rocks from the sidewalk and two rocks back, he lifted one of the flat river rocks that were intended for decoration and retrieved the modern key.

  Valerie squealed like a teenager at a pep rally and rushed up to the door. Wouldn’t he just love to know if she squealed like that for other reasons.

  Expectations were a tricky thing. Most of the time the sad truth of life was that few things met a person’s expectations. Three Corners was most definitely not lacking. When the light bulb went off in Valerie’s head, the possibilities one by one fell into place. All of it could have come crashing down if the ghost town didn’t live up to her expectations. As ghost towns went, this one blew her expectations into the stratosphere.

  Morgan pushed the front door open and she did another gleeful spin in place. The hem of her dress lifted slightly in the twirl and she felt like a kid again. A kid given the coveted ‘it’ toy. The one thing everybody wanted and only she had.

  The only thing more distracting than the beautiful craftsmanship in the old bordello was the man slowly walking the room, studying the workmanship. It wasn’t normal for her breath to seize at the site of a man, but this man sure had her reminding herself to inhale more than once since his booted heel struck the old wooden walkways. Even in the car, the twinkling blue eyes seemed to outshine a pool of glimmering water. Tall, handsome, polite, and brother could the men in LA learn a lesson from this guy on dumping the plastic macho attitude and being a real man, and especially how to wear an ordinary pair of jeans.

  “You really don’t.”

  Valerie blinked. Served her right for letting her mind wander off on its own. She hadn’t any idea what Morgan was talking about. “Excuse me?”

  His fingers slowly traveled across the carvings on the cabinetry along the wall. “Hard to find work like this anymore.”

  “I feel that way every time I walk through Union Station in downtown LA and look up at the amazing ceilings.” Actually, the thought crossed her mind when looking at Morgan too. “This is going to be such an easy sell.”

  “It is?”

  “Absolutely. Who doesn’t dream of going back in time, of living in a different era, having a taste of another world?”

  A look of utter confusion filled Morgan’s eyes. “Frankly, I can’t say that I have.”

  “Really? Never got on a horse and considered what it would have been like to ride for days like the pioneers with nothing in the way but grass blowing in the wind and the horizon?”

  “You’ve never ridden a horse in West Texas, have you?” he chuckled.

  “I’ve never ridden a horse anywhere, but I assumed surely you have.”

  He bobbed his head. “There’s a lot of nothing from Point A to Point B. We see plenty of horizon, even in Oklahoma.”

  “All right. Have you ever watched a war movie or film noir and wondered what it would have been like to have lived in the forties? An old western and thought those were the days?” His head tipped sideways and she knew she’d struck a nerve. “So what movie was it?”

  “Abbott and Costello.”

  That was not what she expected.

  “It was a movie about a couple of revolutionary war ghosts that were cursed to live eternity on the land where they betrayed their country. Abbott and Costello helped them prove they were patriots.”

  “I think I may have seen that. They lived in a tree, didn’t they?”

  He nodded. “I was just a kid, didn’t really have a grasp on what fighting a war would really meant, but I remember wondering what would it have been like to be a part of changing history. I spent a few weeks playing Redcoats and Minuteman.”

  “See? Watching an old ghost town come back to life will be very appealing.” She spun about to look at some of the old photos on the wall. “Wonder what the odds are that this place is haunted? A couple of friendly ghosts could be great for publicity.”

  Morgan choked on a laugh. “I think it’s safe to say the town is ghost free.”

  Who needs ghosts when they have hunky hammer wielding stars? All she had to do was sell Morgan and his brothers on the idea. “There are more rooms here than I would have thought from the front.”

  “In order to be profitable, it would have had to have a good number of rooms for, eh, entertaining clients.”

  “True.” Valerie felt a slight blush warm her cheeks. For a moment she’d forgotten this wasn’t an ordinary boarding house or hotel. “I think I’ve seen enough. Time to put the numbers to work.”

  Waving his arm for her to lead the way downstairs, Morgan took a last
look at the pristinely restored railing and banister. “It’s going to be quite a project if you want to do this to the whole town.”

  “Not the whole town, just a few key buildings.”

  “The emporium?”

  She nodded. “Yes, that’s key. The restaurant and saloon.”

  “Or combine them.” Morgan held the door for her then turned to lock it behind him. “Otherwise the saloon will only be open at night after the tourists go home.”

  The man had a point. She might have to rethink how the modern world would fit. “Which means we won’t need to do the hotel if the bordello is already restored and perfectly suitable for the same purpose.”

  Walking beside her, Morgan hooked his hand behind his neck, then dragged it back down to his side. “The sisters did a nice job of bringing those bedrooms back to life but seems more suited to a bed and breakfast with shared baths. If you turn the saloon into a casual eatery with a nice bar, much like modern restaurants, the two places could complement each other.”

  They came upon the old hotel and Morgan’s stepped slowed as he studied the façade. “It’ll probably cost a pretty penny to properly level the old hotel, but with ensuite bathrooms it would be a true hotel.” He turned the knob on the double door and turned back to Valerie. “Let’s see if any of those keys work.”

  Val handed over the ring that was still on her wrist. Sure enough, third key in and the door unlocked. “Bingo,” she squealed.

  The place was empty. None of the furnishings survived. The way the cobwebs hung from every corner and fixture, it didn’t look like anyone had come into this particular building.

  Morgan’s hand shot out behind him, his fingers stretched in invitation. “Come on. Let’s take a look upstairs. But be careful, some of the steps may not be as solid as the Parlor.”

  Her fingers laced with his, she nodded and slowly took one step at a time. There were three floors of rooms above the main level. The hotel was the tallest building in town. “Not as big as I’d thought.”

  “Not small either.” He opened the door to one bedroom, then another. “There’s an even number of rooms which should make it easy to turn each one into a nice bath and closet and add a foot or so to the sleeping rooms.”

  “I like how this is looking.”

  “Good bones. That’s all you need.” At the end of the hall, the top floor had an extra door. Morgan slowly turned the knob and exposed another staircase. “Must lead to the roof.”

  “Shall we take a look?”

  “Might as well.”

  At the top of the stairs, another door opened to a flat top roof the expanse of the building.

  “Oh wow.” From pretty much anywhere between Tuckers Bluff and Three Corner’s a person could see for miles and miles, but from up here the same view looked totally different. Spectacular.

  “One more thing to add to the appeal of a luxury hotel. There’s enough space on the ground floor that you could add a restaurant.”

  “I thought we were turning the Saloon into a restaurant?”

  “Yes, but hear me out. I’ve heard my cousins mention more than once that there aren’t enough places to go out for a nice dinner without driving to Butler Springs. That means if done right, this place could hold a lot of commercial possibilities. I mean, besides your new show.”

  He was right, of course. Turning her back on the breathtaking view, she followed him down the stairs. Val needed to think outside her usual box. At first the only thing she cared about were the potential ratings from restoring an old ghost town in front of the camera. Rehab TV, even an entire town, was something she understood. Creating something marketable in the end that was painfully close to an adult amusement park was a little jarring and out of her league.

  Silently, they descended to the lobby and took one last look before leaving.

  Morgan locked the door and handed her back the keys. “If you think about it, if you could talk a chef into taking a chance on it, you might even be able to make this into a five star restaurant.”

  “Okay.” Val stopped in her tracks. “You dream even bigger than me. No one loves fine dining as much as me. Any table setting with more than one spoon, fork and knife will make me drool. When a waiter knows to serve from the left and remove plates from the right I get downright giddy. But I don’t see Thomas Keller opening a restaurant out here.”

  Morgan chuckled. He should have known she wasn’t one to eat but rather to dine. More than just her wardrobe separated this city girl from his reality. And she was right, fine dining was as likely to be a staple in this part of the country as a snow mobile in summer. “Maybe five stars is overreaching a bit, but a really good restaurant could conceivably attract more than just tourists. As much as I love the pub and Frank’s cooking at the café, my cousins are right. Assuming I wanted to take a girl on a date and pull out all the stops, there just isn’t anywhere near to go. There are plenty of residents around Tuckers Bluff who would drive a good spell to celebrate an anniversary, engagement, or birthday someplace special.”

  Special. Looking over her shoulder, she scanned the buildings along the street. Many of them would have to be repurposed. She’d been thinking shops for crafts, or books, but what if… “A spa.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “A truly luxury hotel with fine dining and a spa and all the things that make an out of the way spot a destination. So much could be done with that spectacular rooftop view.”

  “Now you’re getting the idea.”

  “If I can sell the idea and bring in the investors.” She nodded to herself. “Yep, this will make for one beauty of a television show.”

  “Still thinking about reality TV?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then you’d better have some darn good project managers on hand. Building a city isn’t easy.”

  She was well aware she’d need better than good to juggle the construction schedule, the productions schedule, and the media that was no doubt going to show up from time to time.

  “You’re frowning.” He wiped a finger across her brow. “Change your mind?”

  She shook her head.

  “Because that would be the sensible thing to do.”

  “Perhaps. But no one ever said I was sensible. What I was thinking is that I’m going to have to spend more time here in Texas than in LA.”

  “I’m not sure if you’re crazy or brilliant.” They reached the truck and he opened the door for her, tossed that dazzling smile that could probably win over the Wicked Witch of the West, then closed the door to circle the hood and climb in on the driver side.

  Buckled into his seat, she waited till he’d turned the key and started the engine. “What would you say if told you I want you and your brothers to be a part of this?”

  One hand on the steering wheel, his head whipped back from looking out the rear window and somewhere between shock and amusement, he let out a soft chuckle. “Now I know the answer. You’re crazy.”

  Chapter Six

  Beyond the shadow of any doubt, Valerie was delusional. His world, his brothers’ lives were in Oklahoma. A project the magnitude of what she was talking about would take months, or longer. The logistics would be a nightmare. Then there was the issue of television cameras. Definitely not the type of crew he would want on his construction site.

  “I’m not crazy.” She pulled on her seatbelt shoulder strap and shifted slightly to better see him. “I’m very good at what I do and I’m positive this will be a hit.”

  “That part I believe. You’ve convinced me that deep down everyone has a memory tucked away of wanting to be transported back, or forward, in time.”

  “Forward?”

  “Star Trek has been reinvented over and over.”

  She shrugged a shoulder and rolled her eyes slightly. “Well, if you want to look at it that way, even in the futuristic shows, someone always wants to return to the allure of the Wild West. And this place definitely has that.”

  Has that Wild West allure certai
nly hit the nail on the head. A few times he could almost see the long-skirted women wearing colorful bonnets or twirling parasols, making their way down the wooden walkway. He could already picture an afternoon showdown. Every day at two o’clock, the cowboys burst out of the old saloon and stare each other down from opposite ends of the main road to the delight of all the tourists. Yes, she got that one right. Even the Brady Bunch at one point found a way to strand the family in the treasured ghost town concept.

  “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Valerie interrupted his thoughts.

  “The town? Yes. But not being the ones to wield a hammer.”

  The rear truck bed bounced over a rut in the road and he wondered if whoever climbed onboard for this deal was going to pave the darn thing or leave it as part of the old west ambiance.

  “You’re still thinking about it.” She grinned, leaning back against the car door.

  What was she, a mind reader? How could she possibly know what was going on his head? There was no way he wanted any part of it. Though some of the craftsmanship surprised him, drew him in. He’d always thought old west or mining towns were tossed together on the fly. The old theater was one of the few buildings boarded up. Made him wonder what was inside. Would there be more ornate woodwork. Would everything be perfectly plumb and level? How hard would it be to bring the old place into the twenty-first century? Could it even be done without breaking the bank? And how much would that bank be? Would the network or whoever is footing the bill want it done right or done fast? After all, isn’t television all about the illusion? On the other hand, how else would they get a return on their investment if they didn’t hand over a quality product to an end user who knows how to turn this old ghost town into a profitable empire?

  So deep in his own thoughts, he hadn’t noticed Val loosen her seatbelt more and twist further around so she was almost completely facing him.

  “You want to do it, don’t you?” Her eyes glimmered with satisfaction.