Cramming the past back into its proper place, she offered a wry smile. “I guess this ends the tour.”
“For today, yes. But I hope Ladybug didn’t scare you off completely.”
“No.” She glanced down at her torn dress flapping at her knees, then remembered—“My phone!” She spun around, spotted the device ten feet away, and hurried across the rough ground. Her bare foot found a rock. Yelping, she hopped on one leg until she lost her balance.
Zeke grabbed her arm, steadied her, then picked up the phone and inspected it front and back. “The screen’s cracked, but the SIM card might be all right.”
“I hope so.” Julia needed her business contacts, but mostly she wanted the countless photographs of Max.
Zeke dropped the phone in his pocket. “The hotel will replace it along with your dress and shoes. Did Ladybug get anything else?”
“That’s all.”
Zeke collected the shoes and handed them to her. “I’ll cut a check for the clothing. But you need the phone now. How about a trip to San Luis Obispo?”
“Hmmm.”
“We can grab dinner away from the hotel.”
The trip would be private and personal. Just them, the past six years, and the things she didn’t want to tell him about Hunter. She didn’t want to risk that conversation, but she needed her phone. She tried to say yes, but all she could manage was another indecisive “Hmmm.”
Zeke waited a moment. “Was that yes or no?”
“Both.”
Something bright flashed in his eyes. “You always did confuse me, Jules.”
Especially at the end, when she broke off their relationship with vague allusions to needing emotional space instead of the truth that she had started to date Hunter. “I was confused about a lot of things back then.”
“So let’s be confused at the Apple Store.” He held up the phone to show her the cracked screen. “My goat just ate your phone. I owe you a new one, plus an upgrade for your time and trouble.”
She owed Zeke too—gratitude for his prayers six years ago, amends for her arrogant attitude at the time, and maybe a confession about Hunter, though she wasn’t sure about that last item. “All right. We’ll go.”
He raised the radio to his dusty face. “GM calling Cowboy.”
Static crackled until Chet answered. “Cowboy here.”
“Ladybug’s in custody.”
“Well, hoop-dee-doo,” Chet grumbled, “but I can’t fetch her right this minute.”
“I’ll put her in her pen.” Zeke signed off and lowered the handheld radio. “I’ll take care of Ladybug, then we’ll go back to the hotel, clean up, and head out.”
Julia climbed into the SUV to wait, drumming her fingers as Zeke coaxed Ladybug to follow him. While he was gone, she made plans. When she reached her room, she’d call her mom from the hotel and give her Zeke’s cell in case of an emergency.
Hunter presented a different problem. He was waiting for an answer to the school question, but Julia wasn’t ready to commit to anything. She didn’t want to annoy Hunter, but sometimes life happened. For once, he would just have to wait.
four
Zeke parked the SUV in his private spot behind the main hotel, took Julia to her room via a service elevator, and headed toward his office to check in with Irene before going home to change clothes. With clean Levi’s and a fresh shirt, he’d be ready for the trip to San Luis Obispo.
And dinner with Jules.
She was a lot more than an old friend. He had loved her enough to consider marriage, though he had struggled terribly with the differences in their worldviews. Those differences didn’t matter to him now. When it came to Christianity, Zeke considered himself a has-been. He had tried his best to be a model Christian in college, but somehow he could never work hard enough or love God enough. Even now, an admonition from his father played through his brain. “Son, if you love Jesus as much as I think you do, you won’t let Him down. We obey Him because we love Him.”
But Zeke had failed to obey, first by dating Julia, a non-Christian, then by sliding down a slippery slope that had ended in her bed. After that, rebellion set in and he stopped trying so hard. Did that mean he didn’t love God enough? What did a man do when he tried his best and failed, or when he was so sick of trying he couldn’t stand to open his Bible or even pray?
Zeke didn’t want to think about those things right now. Frowning slightly, he strode through the door to his office.
Irene turned from the computer and gaped at him. “What happened to you?”
“Ladybug.”
A rumbling chuckle, the one made famous by George Travers, came from behind him. “She nailed you, bro.”
George stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt, one knee jutting, and a brown blazer pulled back to reveal a washboard stomach beneath a thin T-shirt. For an old guy, he was in great shape. Zeke was no slouch himself. When you ran a resort with a first-class fitness center, you used it.
He offered his hand to George. “It’s good to see you. What’s up?”
“A wedding.”
Zeke’s brows shot up. “Yours?”
George snorted. “No woman in her right mind would put up with me.”
“Then who?”
“A sweet little girl named Tiffany Ann Reid. Her daddy, Tom Reid, was the best friend I ever had. Ginger and I are Tiff’s godparents. Tell me, Zeke, have you ever made a promise to a dying man?”
“No.” Unless he counted the promise he had made to his father a month before the plane crash. “All right, Dad. I’ll go back to church.” But he hadn’t done it, and he wouldn’t. Zeke had disappointed God too many times, failed too profoundly and too often—and too willingly—to pretend he was someone he wasn’t.
George stood ramrod straight. “Tom died of leukemia. Before he passed, I promised him I’d keep an eye on Tiff. Her mom is gone too.”
“I’m sorry.”
George wiped a guitar-calloused hand through his iron-gray hair. “She just got engaged to a kid named Derek. Ginger and I don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but we both want to give Tiff a real wedding.”
Zeke turned to Irene. “Looks like you’ll be busy when you get back from medical leave.”
A skeptical hum came from her lips. “We’ll see.”
“You are coming back, right?” Zeke couldn’t afford to lose her, not with Caliente Springs struggling like a dinosaur in a tar pit.
Irene reassured him with a smile. “I’ll definitely be back. Just not in time for the wedding.”
George put his hands on his hips. “Irene already heard the story. Let’s give her ears a rest and talk in your office.”
Zeke led the way down the hall, ushered George inside, and went to the mini-fridge. The fridge was well stocked with soft drinks, water, and liquor for guests who imbibed. “How about something to drink?”
George grunted. “You know I gave that up.”
“The whole world knows. I was offering you a Coke.”
“I’ll take it.”
He handed an icy can to George, chose water for himself, and guzzled half the bottle. The chair creaked as he sat. “So tell me about this wedding.”
“Here’s the thing.” George steepled his fingers over his chest. “Like Irene said, Tiff’s in a hurry.”
“Pregnant?”
“No. Just young and in love. Her boyfriend’s in the Coast Guard. He’s leaving for Alaska in a month.”
“A month?” Stunned, Zeke lowered his chin. “Are you saying what I think you are?”
“Yep.”
“You want us to put on a wedding in less than thirty days?”
“Yes, sir. I do.”
“How many guests?” Maybe it was small.
“Up to five hundred.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” George reclined back in the chair, his shoulders relaxed while he tapped his fingers together. “I promised Tiff I’d stand in for her daddy, and she wants a wedding with all the bells
and whistles. Ice sculptures. A fancy dinner. Dancing, but don’t worry about that. I’ve got the band covered.”
“You’re crazy.” Not that being crazy mattered to George. His pre-sobriety stories made Zeke laugh until his sides hurt or put painful lumps in his throat. Somehow it was all the same with George. “A month isn’t much time for people to plan. What about invitations?”
“Tiff’s making calls as we speak. Formal invitations can go out a little later.”
Was a huge, high-class wedding even possible on such short notice? The hotel was only moderately booked, but accommodations for another five hundred people? Plus the wedding itself. Mentally he ran through a list of banquet rooms and ceremony sites, catering options, staff requirements, flower suppliers, and a dozen other needs.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked to stretch his resources. As general manager, he led a staff of approximately two hundred people, including a tier of high-level managers directly below him, several salaried administrators, and hourly employees like maids, clerks, and grounds crew. But like most businesses in tough economic times, the employees, including Zeke, were already working at maximum capacity.
On the other hand, George was his boss and a good friend. “I’ll make it work. I don’t know exactly how, but we have a good team.”
“I admit it’s a tall order, but you know what the Good Book says. All things are possible with God.”
Zeke didn’t want to hear about God, especially from George. With nine years of sobriety and the bold declaration that Jesus Christ was his Lord and Savior, George lived with a freedom Zeke didn’t understand. The singer cussed now and then, lost his temper in traffic, made sarcastic remarks, and didn’t give a rip what people thought of him. At least most people. There were some men in George’s life, like the chaplain at Home and Hearth, who’d been known to rein him in.
To Zeke, a kid who’d been taught that his behavior was his witness, George’s flagrant humanity mixed with his bold faith was confusing. So was his trust that God ordered his steps like David described in the Psalms. In Zeke’s experience, God expected a man to pick up his cross and carry it until he dropped from exhaustion.
Needing to clear his mind, he took a long swallow of water, then set the bottle down on the desk. “Let’s leave God out of this.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.” George let the challenge hang in the air. He and Zeke had this conversation frequently, and it always ended the same way—with Zeke irritable and George quiet.
Nonplussed as usual, George tossed a scrap of paper down on the desk.
Zeke saw Tiff’s name and number, and put them in his phone. “I’ll call her first thing in the morning.”
“Good, because there’s a little more at stake than a nice wedding for a sweet girl.”
With George, surprises were never good. Zeke froze with his phone in hand. “What is it?”
“Ginger has a stake in this too. She and Tiff’s mom were thick as thieves. Bev is gone now, and Ginger’s like a second mom to Tiff.” George’s eyes glinted. “Bev hated me.”
“Great.”
“I don’t blame her.” George chugged the last of the Coke, crumpled the empty can, and tossed it in the trash. “I was a bad influence on Tom.”
Zeke could imagine.
“So here’s the deal. Ginger doesn’t think we can pull this thing off. I told her we could, and she and I reached an agreement. If Tiff’s wedding is spectacular enough, Ginger will give up the notion of selling Caliente Springs.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s a good businesswoman. If you can pull this off, word will spread that we’re a premier place for weddings, and business will pick up. At least that’s the hope. Deep down, Ginger loves this place as much as I do. She doesn’t really want to sell. She just wants to stop losing money.”
Zeke dragged his hand over his dusty neck. “I wish you’d just buy her out.”
“I can’t. The money’s not there.” George’s music still sold but not like it used to. And he still performed, but in small venues instead of arenas. Years of hard living and hard drinking had taken a toll on his bank account, though he sobered up before he lost everything. He was more than comfortable, just not rolling in dough like Garth Brooks.
Zeke kept his voice even. “So we pull off the wedding or lose Caliente Springs.”
“Exactly.” Leaning back, George laced his hands behind his head and stretched. “Hire a wedding planner, someone who knows the ropes.”
Julia’s face flashed in Zeke’s mind. With a flick of his wrist, he woke up his computer, went to the Dare to Dream website, and angled it so George could see a slide show of wedding images, along with Julia’s name prominently displayed on the bottom of the screen. “What do you think?”
George watched a few frames and grunted. “All that froufrou looks alike to me. Who’s Julia Dare, and how do you know her?”
“We were friends in college. Now she’s an event planner, and she happens to be here on other business.”
“Hire her.”
“Maybe.” Zeke clicked through another wedding album. The photos looked great, but pictures could be deceiving.
“The way I see it, God just tossed you a life rope.”
It was just like George to give God credit for a coincidence. Zeke turned from the computer. “I’ll talk to her.”
George pulled his six-foot-five frame to its full height. “How about dinner? We can throw some steaks on the grill and shoot some pool.” He lived in the Travers family mansion located behind the same gate that guarded the cottages. With six bedrooms, five baths, a swimming pool, and some of the oldest trees on the property, the house was George’s personal oasis, though he shared it with Ginger when she visited.
“It’s tempting,” Zeke said. “But I can’t.”
“So what’s up?”
Zeke told him about the Ladybug incident. “I’m taking Julia to get a new phone. The drive will give me a chance to find out more about her wedding experience.”
“Sounds like good timing.” George rapped his knuckles on the desk. “I’m outta here. We’ll cook those steaks another time.”
“Sure. How long are you staying?”
“Just tonight. I leave tomorrow for a show in Reno.”
“That reminds me.” Zeke opened a desk drawer, lifted out one of George’s 8x10 publicity photos, and slid it across the desk. “Julia’s mom is a fan. How about an autograph?”
“My pleasure.” George selected a Sharpie from the cup on Zeke’s desk. “What’s her name?”
“Ellen.”
“You know her?”
“We met when Jules and I were dating.” Zeke liked Ellen a lot, in part because she and Julia were a lot alike. “She’s a widow now. Her husband died in the middle of Julia’s senior year.”
George scrawled out a few lines, signed his name, and capped the pen. “If you knew this girl’s mom, it must have been serious.”
“Yes and no.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
The same kind Julia gave him back at the stable. “We were serious, but neither of us expected it to last. It didn’t. End of story.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can see that gleam in your eyes.” George paused. “I might even say . . . she’s got your goat.”
Zeke groaned. “That was awful.”
“Yeah, but someone had to say it.”
It was time for payback. Zeke put his hands on his hips and rocked back. “It figures it would be an old goat like you.”
George roared with laughter. “You win, Zeke. And right now, this old goat needs to hit the road.”
Zeke stole a glance at the clock. He had thirty-six minutes before he was supposed to meet Jules. If he hurried, he could make it with five seconds to spare. “I’ll let you know what Julia says about the wedding.”
“Sounds good.”
The instant George left, Zeke hurried home. F
eeling a little like Superman ducking into a phone booth, he changed clothes in record time, sped back to the hotel, and knocked on Julia’s door, all with a minute to spare.
five
Three hours after the debacle with Ladybug, Julia walked out of the Apple Store with Zeke at her side, the latest iPhone in her hand, and a smile on her face. The new phone was fully restored from the undamaged SIM card, partially charged, and protected by a shock-proof OtterBox case.
While slipping the phone into her purse, she stepped with Zeke to the curb of the busy parking lot. “Thanks. I’m back in business.”
When a car whizzed past them, he rested his hand lightly on her back to guide her away from it. “The drive here wasn’t bad either. It gave me a chance to sell you on Caliente Springs.”
“Which you did. Thoroughly.”
The decision to recommend Caliente Springs over the other resorts she had visited turned out to be easy. Zeke’s passion for the hotel and its guests impressed her, and it was perfect for both a large conference and employee vacations. The next step was for Julia to meet with Ashley tomorrow as planned to discuss details like meeting rooms and menus. Next, she’d email her recommendation to Mr. Carter. If he liked what he read, he and his wife would visit CS themselves.
Thinking of the Carters, she tipped her head up to Zeke. “Do you play golf?”
“Badly. Why?”
“You should brush up. Mr. Carter will want to play at least a few rounds.”
Zeke winced as he opened her door. “I’m taking lessons from John, but right now I’m awful at it.”
“You’ll get better.” When he grimaced, she punched his arm. “Look at the bright side. You get to wear plaid pants.”
“Lucky me.”
Chuckling, she climbed into the SUV. Zeke was rounding the hood when her phone signaled yet another text from Hunter. Earlier, when the Apple guy handed her the phone, she checked quickly for messages and saw three from him, each more curt than the last. She sympathized with his desire to pin down a time for the school meeting, but she couldn’t finalize the schedule until she checked with her mom. That call needed to wait.
Someone Like You Page 4
