Romance Grows in Arcadia Valley (Arcadia Valley Romance Book 0)

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  “When do they leave?” Corban pulled down two plates and got out glasses. “Milk?”

  Jonah nodded. “Day after tomorrow? The one after that? Sometime soon. They can probably do without. Ruth’s a soft touch.”

  Corban sat and offered Jonah a knife. “You want to do the honors?”

  “Sure.” Jonah tugged the foil off the container and sliced the hunk of strudel in half. He slid the pieces onto the plates and pushed one toward Corban. “Emerson called.”

  “I wondered if that might be why you came.” He battled disappointment that Ruth hadn’t picked up the phone or come herself. Though she had guests. Maybe she couldn’t get away. Or maybe she didn’t feel the way he did.

  “I’m sure Ruth’ll call you tonight, after everyone heads up to bed. This couple likes to sit and chat in the lounge. That wasn’t really why I came. I—” He took a deep breath and stabbed up a bite of apples. “Has she told you much about her first inn?”

  Corban shook his head. He hadn’t pried. “I figured she’d tell me when she wanted to.”

  Jonah scoffed and pointed his fork at Corban’s plate. “You have to at least try it.”

  Corban poked his fork into the pastry, the flaky layers giving way and exposing glistening apples. It looked like a strudel should. Putting the bite in his mouth, he closed his eyes.

  “Good, right?” Jonah grinned. “Anyway. The Rosemont — that was her first inn — it was a disaster, almost from day one. There was a bigger company interested in the property, couldn’t get the owners to sell to them... long story short, they ended up forcing Ruth to close. She’s never really recovered.”

  “That’s horrible. But... I guess I’m not following?”

  “She’s worried it’s happening again. And I’m worried she’ll just give up, not fight. Unless she feels like there’s a reason. Maybe there’s something — or someone — here worth fighting for?”

  Corban coughed as the apple went down the wrong way. He reached for his milk and took a long swig. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit.”

  Jonah shrugged.

  “What are you asking?”

  “Are you in this for the long haul? Or are you just playing with my sister ‘cause she’s new in town and something different?”

  “Is forever long enough?”

  Jonah held Corban’s gaze for several heartbeats before a slow grin spread across his face. “Yeah. Welcome to the family, man.”

  “Well now, Ruth might have something to say about that. So let’s not jump—”

  “No conclusion jumping here. I’m pretty sure she’s already completely in love with you. So barring some colossal screw up, you’re set.”

  Corban’s heart leapt. Right before it crashed back to reality. What would her brother know? Ruth didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who sat and divulged her inmost thoughts and feelings to her brother. To anyone, for that matter. She kept it all so quiet. “You think?”

  Jonah nodded. “Which brings me back around to why I’m here tonight.”

  “So it wasn’t just to bring me strudel? I’m crushed.”

  Jonah snickered. “Nope. It’s to ask you to be patient with her. This... whatever it is with the B&B is throwing her off. She’ll probably try to clam up and close everyone out. Don’t let her.”

  Corban nodded and scraped the last bits of strudel off his plate.

  With a sigh, Jonah pushed back from the table. “I should probably head back before Ruth wonders where I went. See ya.”

  “Come by anytime. Especially if you have dessert.”

  Jonah laughed.

  After the truck pulled out of the driveway, Corban collected his Bible from the porch and sent Spock out to do his business one final time. Should he call Emerson and get the scoop? Probably better to wait and see if Ruth got in touch. And if she didn’t... he checked the time. He’d give her an hour before he called.

  * * *

  “Strudel?” Ruth held out a plate with a professional smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  Corban frowned. He took the plate, set it on the counter, and stepped closer.

  Ruth stepped back.

  “Something wrong?”

  “I’m just really busy. This isn’t a good time.”

  “Ah. Your guests are still here?”

  “No.” She sighed. “They checked out this morning. Jonah took them to the airport.”

  “So you need to turn the rooms.”

  “No. I did that already. It’s not... I’m just busy, okay? Don’t you have work you should be doing?” She crossed her arms.

  “I do. But I thought seeing you, making sure you were okay was more important. You didn’t answer when I called last night.” Corban tried to catch her gaze.

  “I was—”

  “Busy. Sure. I get it.” Maybe Jonah was wrong. If she pushed him away this hard, shouldn’t he respect her wishes? His heart ached at the thought. And yet. “Do you really want me to go?”

  “It would be easier.” She turned and busied herself at the sink.

  He watched her attack the pan and keep scrubbing long after any hint of egg remained. “That’s not what I asked.”

  The pan clattered into the sink and she turned, suds dripping off her hands onto the floor. “What do you want from me?”

  A lifetime together. Children. He bit back the words. “An honest answer. Do you want me to go?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. She gave an imperceptible shake of her head.

  His breath came out in a whoosh and he closed the distance between them so he could wrap his arms around her.

  “I’m all soapy. You’ll get wet.” She tried to step back.

  Corban tightened his grip. “I don’t care. I love you, Ruth.”

  She blinked, her breath catching, before she threw her arms around his neck, a tear slipping down her cheek. He lowered his lips to hers, reveling in the rightness of it. I am my beloved’s. The snippet of Scripture flitted through his mind before he was lost to the kiss.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Ruth jerked in his arms, her cheeks flushing as she wiggled out of his embrace.

  “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Corban rolled his head on his neck and turned. “Uh huh.”

  Emerson grinned and shrugged. “I am. Mostly. But I’m also glad to see it.”

  “Maybe you want to go away for a little bit? Come back later?” Corban reached for Ruth’s hand and pulled her to his side.

  “Corban.” Ruth jabbed him in the side with her elbow.

  “I take it she didn’t mention I was coming over to discuss strategy.”

  “She didn’t mention it, no.” Corban lifted an eyebrow.

  Ruth hunched her shoulders. “I just hadn’t gotten to it.”

  Too busy trying to get him to go away and avoiding his call. Probably not wise to say that. He hummed.

  “Can I get you some strudel, Emerson? Corban was just about to have a slice. I made it yesterday. We could sit in the lounge.” Ruth turned and started cutting another slice of the apple concoction.

  “It’s good. A lot like Mrs. Mauz used to make.”

  Emerson brightened. “Really? Count me in.”

  “How do you know it’s good?” Ruth turned and offered a plate to Emerson.

  Corban winced. “Jonah brought me a piece last night.”

  She shook her head. “I knew that chunk was more than he could eat himself. Go sit down. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Chapter 13

  Ruth waited until the men left the room before she sagged against the counter and tried to calm down. There was too much going on — too many highs and lows. She simply wasn’t cut out for this much drama. Corban loved her. She closed her eyes and repeated it to herself. She pressed a hand to her quivering stomach. She hadn’t gotten the opportunity to tell him she loved him, too. But she would. She’d make a point of it.

  She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. That would have to wait. With Emerson here, it
was time to figure out a plan. Hopefully one that didn’t involve selling the Fairview and slinking back to the D.C. area. She liked it here in Arcadia Valley. The two months she’d been here had been the first time she’d felt at home in a long time. Corban had a lot to do with that. But so did their church and the town in general. She needed to stay.

  With a plate of strudel for herself, she pushed through the kitchen door and crossed into the lounge.

  “This is amazing. You made this?” Emerson forked up another bite of apples.

  “Yesterday. I’m glad you like it.” She perched on the edge of the loveseat next to Corban. He reached over and took her hand. “So?”

  Emerson cleared his throat and set the plate aside. “I did some calling around yesterday and a little more this morning. Everyone generally agrees that Jaden has no chance of winning in court if she pushes that far with her contest of the will. The best chance she has would be to prove undue influence, but that’s not particularly likely given that you and Naomi have been longtime friends and there are people who can vouch for that. Frankly, I’m surprised she found an attorney who’d take her on as a client.”

  “Which means what?” Ruth looked down at the plate of strudel and set it aside. She could eat it later. If she ever got her appetite back.

  “That’s trickier. She can go on being a nuisance and take you to court. I can’t tell you how long that could drag out or whether she’d find a judge willing to hear the case. Or we can try to get her to give up.”

  Corban furrowed his brow. “How? This all came out of nowhere. What makes you think she’d give up?”

  Emerson rubbed the back of his neck. “From talking to her attorney, I get the impression that Jaden’s most concerned that you’re going to make a living off what her sister started.”

  “Now wait just a cotton-pickin’ minute. Naomi took over the fully-functional B&B from my mother. She didn’t start anything.” Corban set his empty plate down on the coffee table a little more forcefully than necessary.

  Emerson held up a hand. “I understand that. And I presented that point to Jaden’s attorney this morning. It was, apparently, news to him. I get the feeling that he’s starting to realize his client hasn’t been particularly forthcoming in terms of the truth.”

  Ruth’s shoulders sagged. “But I am trying to make a living here. You’re not suggesting we close?”

  Emerson nodded. “Only temporarily. Though we wouldn’t tell anyone that. I believe that if Jaden thinks you’re simply living in her sister’s, hang on,” he scrolled through notes on his phone, “ah, and I quote, ‘dumb old house filled with dusty furniture’ that she’d be inclined to let it go. She has a house. She has no interest in moving out here. It just appears to be the ongoing income that upsets her.”

  Close down. Fail. Again. She widened her eyes to stop the tears from building up. “I can’t afford to stay here if we close. There are still expenses. Utilities. Even if I could find some sort of retail job, I was barely able to make rent on a studio doing that in D.C. Sure, the cost of living is lower here, but it’s not going to stretch to this. So... that’s it. She wins.”

  “I actually had an idea. It’s... risky. Ish. But I could see it working.” Emerson shifted in his seat.

  “Let’s hear it.” It didn’t seem likely that it would work, unless it involved magic lottery winnings. She fought a wince. That was unfair. And she was forgetting that God could make it work, if He chose to. That even sounded sulky in her head. I’m sorry, Lord. I trust You. I do. But I might need a little extra help with it right now.

  “You bake bread every day, right?” Emerson leaned forward, his gaze locking on to Ruth’s. “Would it be harder — especially if you had more time because you weren’t caring for guests — to make some extra?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Not really. I might need a bigger mixer, or I could just do extra batches. Why?”

  “In Seattle, Pam and I were members of a CSA and a CSB. They made our lives so much easier. Plus, we felt good about helping to support local families.”

  Corban squeezed Ruth’s hand. “CSA I know. I’ve thought about doing that myself. But I still do well enough on the wheat each year that it’s easier to supplement with the farmers market stall and not have to worry about memberships and so forth. But what’s a CSB?”

  “Community Supported Bakery instead of agriculture. In this case, bread. Who wouldn’t love to get fresh bread once or twice a week? It beats the wrapper off the preservative laden nastiness they sell in the grocery store, and there are people who would want to participate simply because they’re into local business. Throw in the fact that you’re using local ingredients—”

  “Not all of them. The wheat, sure. But it’s not like I have an in with a local olive grove.”

  Emerson waved that away. “Sure, the fancy ingredients people will understand. But if the wheat is local, that’s the biggie.”

  She nodded slowly. Her starter was completely based on wild yeast as well, so that was another bonus. Not that most people would care. But still. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d have to work out costs and see if it would actually have any sort of profit in a reasonable amount of time. She had a tiny bit in her bank account, but not enough to live on for long. A month maybe? “I guess it’s possible. There are a lot of questions.”

  “I get that. Which is why I went ahead and contacted our CSB back in Seattle. They’re happy to walk you through it, answer questions, that sort of thing. I have to say, they were so excited about the idea of another one forming I had to convince them not to just fly out to help set you up.” Emerson grinned and pushed a piece of paper across the table toward Ruth. “Think about it. Pray about it. And as much as I’d like to say take all the time you need, I really think you’re better off making a decision quickly. Because the sooner we can get Jaden off your case, the sooner you can decide if you want to reopen the B&B.”

  “Wait. What do you mean reopen? If I don’t do this... if I decide to wait Jaden out and deal with it, why would I close? She can’t win. You said that.” Ruth glanced between Corban and Emerson. “Did I miss something?”

  Emerson cringed. “Her attorney let on that they were working on a petition to have you closed down until the contest could be resolved. If you don’t close voluntarily, I’m guessing you may end up shut down before the end of the month anyway.”

  * * *

  “Talk to me.” Corban slipped his arm around Ruth’s shoulders when they returned to the lounge after walking Emerson to the door.

  She sagged into the comfort and laid her head against his chest. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Top of your head?”

  “Do people really want to buy homemade bread? It’s so easy to make. Don’t the people who want it just make their own?”

  Corban laughed. “No. Take Pam. She’s about as homemade and organic as it gets, but she’s also a surgeon. You think she has time to make bread?”

  That was a fair point. But for every Pam there had to be other people like Ruth who were content to do it themselves. “Bread’s only two dollars. I can’t compete with that.”

  “And I don’t think people would expect you to. For homemade bread? I imagine people would pay six, maybe even seven dollars.”

  She goggled. “Seven dollars? You’re insane. No one’s going to pay that when they can go to the grocery store for less.”

  “They will once they taste your bread.” Corban kissed her forehead. “I would. And I’m known for being cheap.”

  “You’re just saying that because you’re smitten with me.”

  “Not smitten. In love.” He nudged her head off his chest and met her gaze. “I mean it.”

  She swallowed. There was no denying that he was in earnest. “I know you do. I... love you, too. I’m not sure what that means going forward, except that we both stand to get really hurt. But...”

  “Shh.” He lowered his lips to hers.

  Ruth sighed and sank into the k
iss. At least here she knew what she was doing. Even if nothing else in her life made sense, she had Corban. For now.

  * * *

  “What’s all this?” Jonah peered over Ruth’s shoulder at the papers she had spread out on the table in the kitchenette in her private rooms.

  She sighed and pushed back her chair. As she walked to the mini-fridge to refill her glass with lemonade she filled her brother in on the conversation with Emerson and his idea for the CSB. “So I’m trying to figure out if it’s even feasible. I mean, the idea is out there, as far as I’m concerned, but it would make a way for me to stay, at least for a while, if the money works.”

  “I think it’s a fantastic idea.” Jonah grabbed an apple out of the bowl on her counter and crunched into it. “Count me in. I haven’t been able to find anything remotely interesting job-wise. And then, even once you reopen, I could keep on with the bread, if you’d help now and then.”

  “Seriously?” She hadn’t considered that Jonah might be interested. “It’s not fine dining. It’s just bread.”

  “So? It’s cooking. And it’s good bread, too. Plus, there are so many options — if we devoted all our time to it? We could come up with some rocking options.” Jonah drummed his fingers on the table. “We’d need a solid staple loaf, something for sandwiches. Maybe a second variety — oat based? I wonder if anyone grows oats locally. It’d be good to keep it all locally sourced. Then the fancier breads like you’ve already been playing with. Maybe a French loaf, too. Everyone loves a good baguette.”

  “You’re serious.” Ruth pulled the papers together into a pile. Were they really going to do this? She’d wanted to fulfill Naomi’s wishes, to make her own dream of running an inn — or in this case, a B&B — come true. But if that was off the table, for now at least, baking bread was still something she loved.

  “Heck yeah. This is awesome. When can we start?”

  She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. “I...”

  “We need to call Micah and Malachi. They’ll be jazzed. In fact, did you see Micah’s text?”