The back door opened then, and Clint Stephens stepped outside, clad in his usual Wrangler jeans and chambray work shirt. “I thought I heard an engine out here.” Smiling, his father started toward the three short steps separating him from Andrew, the heels of his well-worn cowboy boots thudding against the wood.
“How’s it going, Dad?”
“It goes.” His father cocked his graying head and peered down at him. “You no longer feel the need to tell your old man when you’re coming back to Ouray?”
Andrew pushed the mounting guilt aside. “Maybe I wanted to surprise you.” Hands shoved in his pockets, he perched his own booted foot on the bottom step. “I was planning to do some work on Grandma’s house, but it seems she changed her will. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“I do. I’m kinda surprised you don’t, though.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you get a copy of the new one?”
“No, sir.”
“Hmm...” His father rubbed the gray stubble lining his jaw. “Guess we’d better have a talk, then.” He turned back toward the house. “I just put on a fresh pot of coffee. Care to join me?”
After toeing out of their boots in the mudroom, they continued into the family room. Though the mottled brown carpet Andrew remembered from his childhood had been replaced with wood laminate flooring, the room still looked much the same with its oversize furniture and wood-burning stove.
He eyed the large Oriental rug in the middle of the room. Mama had been so tickled when he’d given it to her the Christmas after the new flooring had been put in. Said the rich colors made her simple house feel more grand.
While his father moved into the kitchen that was more like an extension of the family room, or vice versa, Andrew stood frozen, held captive by the wall of framed photos at the end of the room. Baby pictures of him and his brothers. Graduation photos. Milestones and achievements. There had never been a prouder mama than Mona Stephens.
Guilt nearly strangled him. He hadn’t even had the respect to be here when she died.
“You still take it black?”
Turning, Andrew cleared his throat before addressing his father. “Just like you taught me.”
The corners of Dad’s mouth twitched. “There’s some roast beef in the fridge.” He motioned with a nod. “Help yourself if you’re hungry.”
Considering Andrew hadn’t eaten anything since he pulled out of Denver well before sunup...
He spread mayonnaise on a slice of white bread, recalling his last visit before his mother’s death. Despite chemo treatments, she still had his favorite foods waiting for him. From homemade apple pie to beef stroganoff, the most incredible aromas filled the house.
He glanced around the dated L-shaped kitchen. This old ranch house would never again smell so good.
“If you didn’t get a copy of the new will, how’d you find out about the change?” Dad eased into one of the high-backed chairs at the old wooden table near the wall.
“Carly paid me an unexpected visit.” He picked up his sandwich and joined the old man. “So, what gives? Grandma promised her house to me. I have a copy of her will that proves it. Why’d she make the change?”
Dad set his stained mug inscribed with #1 Dad atop the table. “Carly meant a lot to Livie. She was a friend, a caretaker and the granddaughter she never had.”
“Okay, but Carly isn’t family.”
“Not by blood. But like I said, Livie thought of her as family. They were very good friends, you know.”
“No. I didn’t know.” Andrew took a bite. Sounded like Carly went to great lengths to worm her way into his grandmother’s life, all to expand her bed-and-breakfast.
“After Carly lost her husband, she and Livie grew even closer. Your grandmother understood what Carly was going through.”
Something Carly probably used to her advantage.
“No one can understand the pain of a young widow better than someone who was also a young widow.” Dad lifted his cup and took another sip of coffee. “That aside, your grandmother had her concerns that you might sell the place.” His gaze settled on Andrew. “Making Carly half owner might have been her way of ensuring that the house remained with someone she loved.”
“But I’ve always wanted that house. That’s why Grandma left it to me in the first place.” That and the fact that none of his brothers were interested. “I would never consider selling.”
“You were in Denver, hardly ever came home.”
Guilt wedged deeper. Even if he’d found the time to come back, he wasn’t sure he could face the judgmental looks he was bound to receive from his brothers. As though he’d betrayed them for not getting here before Mama died.
“What are you planning to do with the house, anyway, son?”
His appetite waning, Andrew wrapped his suddenly cold fingers around the hot cup his father had given him. “Open up the bottom floor, add an extra bath, update the kitchen... I was hoping to have it ready by the high season to use as a rental.”
“Sounds like quite an undertaking.”
Andrew shrugged, still suspicious of the relationship between his grandmother and Carly. “You know, Carly mentioned something about wanting to expand Granger House Inn. You don’t suppose she shared those plans with Grandma in hopes of getting her hands on that house, do you? I mean, it is right next door.”
His father’s brow furrowed. “It’s possible she made mention of it. But Carly’s not the scheming type. You know that.”
Did he?
“Apparently she’s pretty determined,” Andrew said, “because she offered to buy my half of Grandma’s house.”
Lips pursed, Dad nodded in a matter-of-fact manner. “You gonna take her up on it?”
“No.” Andrew shoved his sandwich aside. “What was Grandma thinking?”
Dad chuckled, lifting his cup. “Doesn’t really matter, son. You and Carly are just going to have to find a way to work it out.”
Chapter Two
“Yes, we do have an opening for Easter weekend.” Sitting at her kitchen table that afternoon, Carly settled the phone between her ear and shoulder, grateful for the distraction. Her mind had been reeling ever since her encounter with Andrew.
She brought up the reservations page on her laptop. “The Hayden Room is available. It has a queen-size bed, a private bathroom and a spectacular view of Hayden Mountain.”
“Oh, yes. I think I saw that one on your website.” Excitement laced the female caller’s tone. “It’s beautiful.”
Carly couldn’t help smiling. Actually, all of their guest rooms were on the website. Something that had garnered Granger House many a booking. The problem she most often encountered, though, was when a group of people or a family required more space or multiple rooms she didn’t have available. That was exactly where Livie’s house would benefit her. Not only could she book the three rooms there individually but also market the entire house to those larger parties. Whatever the case, the addition of Livie’s house would virtually double her income.
“I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.” She took hold of the phone. “Would you like to reserve it?”
“Yes, please. For Friday and Saturday night.”
Ah, yes. There was nothing Carly loved more than a fully booked weekend. Especially this time of year when things tended to be a little sparse. Looked like she’d better get her breakfast menus planned. Though it was still a few weeks away, Easter weekend was extra special. There’d be ham to prepare, biscuits, scones...
She took the caller’s information, hanging up as the kitchen timer went off.
Standing, she grabbed a pot holder and moved to the commercial-style range to retrieve a large baking sheet from the oven. Within seconds, her kitchen was filled with the aromas of cinnam
on and vanilla.
She crossed the wide expanse of original hardwood and deposited the pan on the island. Until learning she’d inherited half of Livie’s house, Carly had been saving to remodel the kitchen at Granger House. While the room was large, it had one of the worst layouts ever, with the stove by itself at one end of the room and the refrigerator clear over on the other. Not to mention the lack of counter space. But since she’d be using that money to buy out Andrew’s half of Livie’s house, she’d just have to live with it a while longer.
Too bad Andrew had to be so difficult. Okay, so the house had been in his family for generations. She’d give him that. But unless he was planning to move back to Ouray, what possible use could he have for it? The place would just sit there empty.
Nope, no matter how she looked at it, there was no way this co-owning thing was going to work, and she couldn’t help wondering why Livie had set things up that way. Unless...
She picked up her spatula to remove the cookies, then stopped. Oh, say it wasn’t so. Livie had never tried to play matchmaker for Andrew and her while she was alive. Why would she do it in death?
No, no. Carly refused to believe it.
Still shaking her head, she shoveled the cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack. Regardless of Livie’s intentions, no matter what they might have been, Carly would simply have to figure out how to convince Andrew to sell her his half. She would not let him rob her of another dream. Not when this one was so close.
Back when she first took over Granger House from her parents seven years ago, she had grand ideas and had expressed an interest in expanding when the house on the opposite side of them came on the market. Her late husband, Dennis, had never been fond of the idea, though, so she’d tucked those dreams away. After his death two years later, she was too busy caring for Megan and simply trying to keep up to even think about anything other than what was absolutely necessary. But as Megan got older, Carly would occasionally revisit her daydreams. Still, with the other house no longer available, that’s all they were.
Until Livie’s death. Suddenly it was as though God had granted the desires of her heart in a way she never would have imagined. After all, just like Granger House, Livie’s house was only a block off Main Street, affording guests easy access to just about everything in town. And the fact that a narrow drive was all that separated the two houses made it the perfect candidate for her expansion.
At least until Andrew showed up, thinking he was going to claim his inheritance.
She let go a sigh. How was she, a simple small-town girl who’d spent her entire life in Ouray, going to convince some bigwig businessman like Andrew? It wasn’t as if their romantic history would score her any brownie points.
Her gaze drifted to the cookies. And plying him with food wasn’t likely to do the job, either.
Lord, show me what I should do. Because right now, it looks as though Andrew and I are at an impasse.
The back door opened then, bringing a surge of cool air as nine-year-old Megan bounded inside.
“Mmm...cookies.” Her daughter dropped her backpack on the wooden floor.
“You’re just in time. They’re fresh out of the oven.”
Without bothering to take off her coat, Megan rushed over and grabbed one. “Yay, snickerdoodles!” She took a big bite.
Carly snagged her own cookie, pleased that her daughter appreciated her culinary skills. And running a bed-and-breakfast, she was almost always cooking something. If not directly for her guests, then she was trying out new recipes. Something her friends benefited from, making it a win-win for Carly. They gave her feedback and she didn’t have to worry about her waistline. Well, not as much, anyway.
“How was school?”
With the cinnamon-coated treat sticking out of her mouth, Megan shrugged out of her coat. “Good.” She dropped the puffy thing on a hook near the door before plopping into one of the Windsor-style chairs at the table to finish her snack. “Who’s at Ms. Livie’s house?”
Carly glanced out the window to see Andrew’s big black truck once again in the driveway. With all the noise that thing made, she was surprised she hadn’t heard him pull in.
Why was he back, anyway? After watching him leave this morning, she’d hoped he’d decided to stay away until they reached an agreement.
“That would be her grandson, Andrew.” She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and continued on to the refrigerator for the milk.
“Do I know him?” Megan’s blue eyes followed Carly as she moved toward her daughter.
She set the glass, along with another cookie, in front of her. “He’s the one who played cards with you, me and Livie a couple of years ago.”
“When Ms. Livie’s daughter died, right?”
“That’s him.” She ruffled Megan’s straighter-than-straight strawberry blond hair, a trait she definitely didn’t inherit from her mother. But after decades of fighting her natural curls, Carly had finally learned to embrace them. “You have a good memory.”
“Why is he at Ms. Livie’s house now, though?” Megan picked up the second cookie. “I thought she gave it to you.”
Carly cringed. She’d had no business mentioning that to Megan until the estate had been settled. Yet in her excitement over the news all those months back, she’d blurted it out without thinking.
“She gave me half of it. And she gave Andrew the other half.”
“Which half is yours?”
Carly puffed out a laugh. She could only imagine what was going through her daughter’s nine-year-old mind. As if Carly and Andrew could just slap a piece of tape down the middle.
“Unfortunately, it’s not quite that simple.” And if she couldn’t get Andrew to sell her his half, she’d be stuck taking in people’s accounting books until Megan graduated college.
Megan stood, dusting the crumbs from her hands. “Can I go over there?”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea right now.” If ever. At least, not with Andrew there. Mr. Serious likely wouldn’t tolerate kids.
Still, she couldn’t help wondering what he was up to. Not after catching him removing baseboards this morning. Baseboards he’d better plan on putting back, because she wasn’t about to stand by and let him strip the home of its character.
“On second thought, maybe we should go over there and say hi.” And if their presence happened to remind him that she was keeping tabs on him, so be it.
Megan paused at the island, looking very serious. “We should take him some cookies.”
Hand perched on her hip as she watched her daughter, Carly wasn’t sure how she felt about the suggestion. However, it was Livie who’d always said you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar. And right about now, there was one big fly Carly was interested in catching.
“I think that’s a terrific idea.”
* * *
“Well, that’s just great.”
Andrew dropped his phone on the counter in his grandmother’s kitchen. He’d been calling his attorney’s cell all afternoon. When he finally decided to try the office, he learned that the man was in court and wouldn’t be available until tomorrow.
He blew out a frustrated breath. This was not how he’d envisioned this day playing out.
Pushing away from the cabinet, he paced the ugly gold-and-brown vinyl floor while he waited for a pot of coffee to brew. He knew it was a long shot, but perhaps Ned could find a way to get Grandma’s will overturned and the original reinstated. Then all of his problems would be solved.
You and Carly are just going to have to find a way to work it out.
Hmph. Dad always did look at things simplistically. The only thing simple about the dispute between him and Carly was the fact that they both wanted this house.
As the coffeemaker spewed out its last efforts, Andrew grabbed a mu
g from the cupboard. If it hadn’t been for Carly, he could have had at least one wall taken down by now. Enough to give him an idea of how the house was going to look with an open concept. Instead, he was left with a whole lot of nothing to do.
Leaning against the counter, he took a sip. He’d loved his grandmother dearly, but leaving her house to both him and Carly had to be the craziest idea she’d had since she went white-water rafting down the Uncompahgre River at the age of eighty-three. Except for sharing a game of cards after his mother’s funeral, he and Carly had barely spoken in seventeen years. Not since the day she turned down his marriage proposal and walked out of his life forever.
Relegating the unwanted memories to the darkest corner of his mind, he scanned the sorry-looking kitchen. While he wasn’t about to give up on getting his grandmother’s old will reinstated, he could still be proactive, just in case things didn’t work out the way he hoped. Near as he could tell, there were only two ways out of this predicament. And since selling his half to Carly was out of the question, that left him with only one option—he’d have to buy out Carly’s half of the house. Something that chafed him more than he cared to admit.
Aside from paying for something that was rightfully his to begin with, he’d have to come up with an offer better than hers. Sweeten the deal, so to speak, making it too good to refuse. Much like the company who’d just bought him out. And left him with a tidy chunk of change. Carly would be able to do whatever she liked with Granger House and leave this house—and him—alone.
“Hello, hello.” As though he’d willed her to appear, Carly pushed open the back door, knocking as she came.
Their Ranch Reunion Page 2
