Perhaps that was because Jill had been born in Arizona, only a few hours away from Springvale. Jim and Amy Martin had adopted Jill when she was only a few months old. Her adoptive parents had never kept her adoption a secret from her, but she hadn’t had any interest in searching for her birth parents until she graduated high school. Her adoptive parents had gifted her a journal kept by her birth mother full of hopes for her unborn child.
Unfortunately, her search had yielded few results. Her birth mother, Josephine Holloway, had died shortly after giving birth to her. Her mother hadn’t disclosed her father’s identity to the doctors or nurses at the hospital, or even in her journal, so Jill hadn’t found out who he was. The only clues she had were the location of her birth and the name Haseya, a name bestowed upon her mother by her father.
Jill had visited quite a few reservations near the hospital where she had been born, but nobody had ever heard of her mother, not even when she mentioned her mother’s honorary name.
She had eventually given up on finding her father and returned home to attend college, where she had majored in environmental science with a minor in outdoor education and leadership. Her goal had been to work in a national park, but when she had stumbled across a job opening for a wilderness expert at an inn just outside a Utah national park, she had jumped at the chance. It had seemed like a dream job, and she was ecstatic to have received the position.
A couple hours later, Jill pulled into the parking lot of the Twin Peaks Inn. Her jaw dropped at the beauty of the place. Rough-cut stones formed the first floor. Jill guessed the stones represented the original structure; they had probably come from a nearby quarry hundreds of years ago when the town was still new. A covered porch wrapped around the first floor, and dark wood siding continued upward for another three stories before ending at the red roof. The porch swing rocked gently in the evening breeze, and two porch lights illuminated the front steps as Jill walked up them and gingerly knocked on the door.
She waited a few moments, and then she heard footsteps nearing the door. It swung open to reveal a beautiful older woman with a square face, shiny black hair, and a warm smile.
“You must be Jill,” the woman said, motioning for Jill to enter. “My name is Rose. We spoke on the phone.”
“It’s so good to finally meet you,” Jill replied, adjusting the strap of her bag. “The inn is beautiful.”
Rose smiled wider and led Jill to the staircase. “I’ve set you up in one of our live-in rooms on the third floor.”
“Live-in rooms?” Jill asked. “I thought this was an inn.”
“It is,” Rose answered, glancing back at Jill as they climbed the stairs. “But we have a few people who live here. There’s Danny, who helps me out with the inn and the surrounding land. The inn sits on about five acres, and it takes a lot of upkeep. Then, there’s Jared—he owns the pharmacy in town—and Alice, who’s a retired journalist. She does some freelance work now and then. And now, there’s you.”
Rose stopped outside a white slatted door with iron hinges and an iron doorknob. She turned the knob and pushed the door open, flicking on the light. Jill paused in the doorway. Two windows sat opposite the door, both with small, cushioned seats underneath them and gauzy, white curtains pooling on the floor. A small desk stood in between the two windows. A four poster bed, piled high with fluffy pillows and blankets, rested against the wall to her right, more filmy curtains fluttering around it. To her left, a dresser rested against a distressed white wood-paneled wall.
Jill walked into the room, gaping. She ran a hand across the soft blankets on the bed and admired the pretty, gray and white damask-patterned wallpaper, then turned to the door she had spied in the far left corner. It opened into a large bathroom, complete with jetted tub and shower. Stepping back into the bedroom, she set her bag down on the fluffy white rug next to the bed and turned to find Rose studying her.
“It’s beautiful,” Jill breathed.
Rose grinned. “You sound surprised.”
“Well, I was expecting something a little more… rustic.”
“I see you’ve done your homework, Jill,” Rose said, chuckling. “We’ve done a lot of remodeling since our brothel days.”
Jill grimaced, but Rose didn’t seem too offended by her assumptions.
“Get yourself settled in,” Rose ordered. “And then, you can join me downstairs for a snack. We can go over the job description in more detail.”
Jill nodded, and Rose stepped out and closed the door.
A half hour later, Jill sat at a long, wooden table that looked hand-carved. Rose bustled around the kitchen. She turned and set a small bowl of stew in front of Jill, motioning for her to eat. Jill took a spoonful and lifted it to her lips, closing her eyes in pleasure as a myriad of spices danced on her tongue. It was possibly the best thing she had ever eaten, and she dug into the rest with gusto.
“Tell me a little bit about yourself, Jill,” Rose said as she sat down next to the younger woman, placing two glasses of iced tea on the table.
Jill swallowed a mouthful of stew. “Well, I graduated a year ago from—”
“No, no,” Rose interrupted. “Tell me about you. Not about what’s on your resume.”
“Oh, well, I grew up in North Carolina,” Jill began. “My father was a science teacher and my mother worked as a marine veterinarian for an aquarium.”
“That sounds like interesting work. Which one of them was of Native American descent?”
Jill looked at her, surprised.
“I can tell from your looks you must be at least half Native American,” Rose explained.
Jill shifted uncomfortably. She wasn’t ashamed of her heritage. In fact, she was very proud to be part Native American. The sudden personal question had just thrown her off a little. Jill had grown up in the South, so she was used to people being nosy, but she was not used to such a direct approach. Southern people were adept at masking their invasive questions with polite words and smiles. Rose gave her an encouraging smile, and it eased her mind enough to answer.
“Neither. My parents adopted me when I was a baby, so I never met my birth parents. I do know that my birth mother was a white woman from Arizona, although I don’t know what she looked like, so I guess I get my heritage from my birth father.”
“What happened to your birth mother?” Rose asked.
Jill cleared her throat. “She died not long after I was born.”
“I’m sorry,” Rose murmured, genuine compassion in her eyes.
Jill shrugged it off. “I never knew her, so it’s not that big a deal, I guess.”
Rose took her hand. “She was a part of you, and it is never shameful to grieve when you lose a part of yourself.”
Jill nodded. Rose’s words were oddly comforting. It had been hard when she found out about her birth mother’s death, but she had kept those feelings to herself. She didn’t want to hurt her mom’s feelings, and she felt a little silly for grieving the loss of someone she never knew. It had been nice to know her mother hadn’t just given her up, but part of her still wished she could have met the woman who carried her for nine months. Jill didn’t know which was worse: thinking her birth mother hadn’t wanted her or knowing she had and wondering what might have been.
“What about you?” she asked Rose, changing the subject. “Have you always lived here?”
“I went away to college when I was younger, but this inn has been in my family for generations. When my mother could no longer take care of it herself, I came back to take over.”
“It is a beautiful place,” Jill offered. “I can’t wait to start work.”
Rose sat back in her seat. “Springvale is a beautiful town, and the area is rich with history and adventure. It would be a good idea to familiarize yourself with some of the local legends and stories. A lot of guests like to hear things like that. I have a few books about local history you can borrow.
“Now, I’m not going to have you take any guests out for a week or two. March c
an be slow as far as guests go because it’s in between the winter and summer seasons. You should have plenty of time to explore the different activities and excursions that the park and the town have to offer. I set up a meeting for you with one of the park rangers the day after tomorrow. She’s agreed to take you on a tour and point out the more popular spots for hiking, rafting, rock climbing, and so on.
“We have a big group coming in from Salt Lake City in three weeks, so I’ll need you ready to go by then. I told them we would have an itinerary of activities for them by the end of the week, so I’d like to begin on that tomorrow after I’ve shown you the town. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” Jill answered eagerly. “I look forward to seeing more of the town. It sounds very interesting.”
“Oh, it is,” Rose agreed. “And the people are one of a kind.”
Jill smiled, covering her mouth when it turned into a yawn. “Excuse me.”
“Off to bed with you,” Rose commanded, scooping up Jill’s empty bowl and glass. “We have a big day tomorrow.”
Jill nodded and made her way back up to her room, where she quickly brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas. As she slipped under the soft sheets and fluffy blankets, she yawned again, and she had barely turned out the light before sleep claimed her.
Jill woke the next morning refreshed and excited for the coming day. After breakfast, Rose led her to an old blue pickup truck. Jill hopped in, and they made the three-mile trip into town in silence. Jill gazed out the window at the wondrous beauty of the landscape, feeling more at home than ever. The rising sun glinted off the red rock of the cliffs lining the road so that they appeared to be made of fire rather than rock. Green aspen trees peppered the cliffs, and Jill knew that those same aspen trees would turn a brilliant shade of yellow come fall.
The red cliffs gave way to a sprawling green valley, and Jill could see the town from a mile away. It looked like a town straight off a postcard: green grass carpeting the ground, gorgeous stone buildings, and carefully manicured trees and flowers lining the streets. In the distance, misty mountains circled the valley in a protective hug.
“How old are those buildings?” Jill asked Rose, pointing to a cluster of buildings sitting on top of a hill.
“A couple hundred years,” Rose answered. “That’s the old town square from when this land was first settled.”
Jill frowned. “So, why would a brothel be three miles away from the center of town?”
“Because many among the townsfolk detested brothels. My ancestor realized that if she kept her inn and brothel away from the town proper, she wouldn’t have as much trouble with those people firmly against the selling of flesh. She built it a mile away from an old coal mine, which is where she got half of her customers from anyways. She wasn’t too far from town to hurt business, but not too close to become a problem.”
Jill nodded. It made sense. Utah’s Mormon settlers had followed strict religious rules and opposed any and all things they considered vices. She understood why Rose’s long ago ancestor would have wanted to avoid agitating them. Out of sight, out of mind worked really well sometimes.
“Up on that hill,” Rose continued, “is the old school house, the general store, the jail, and the courthouse, as well as a couple other things. In the summer months, they have reenactments and fairs. A lot of our guests come for that. We also have groups of people who come up to reenact the westward trek of the pioneers, and we host a renaissance fair every year, so there’s something for everyone.”
“That all sounds fun,” Jill murmured. She had never attended a reenactment or a renaissance fair, but the idea intrigued her.
Rose directed the truck toward this outcropping of buildings, parking in a field behind the old courthouse with a half dozen other cars. Jill slid out of the truck and inhaled the intoxicating scent of fresh mountain air.
“Come on,” Rose said, smiling. “I’ll introduce you to some of the people in town.”
Jill grinned and followed Rose toward the old courthouse, almost skipping with the excitement bubbling up inside her.
Fateful Meetings
Their short tour of the town ended at a little diner nestled among the historic buildings on the hill which Rose claimed served the best coffee west of the Mississippi. They both ordered coffee and apple pie, and after taking her first sip of the steaming liquid, Jill had to agree with Rose’s claim. The rich flavor warmed her, and the subtle spice lingered pleasantly on her tongue. She took another sip and sat back in her seat with a contented sigh.
“So how do you like the town?” Rose asked over the rim of her own steaming cup.
“It’s probably the most charming place I’ve ever been,” Jill answered honestly. “And everyone seems to respect you and your family a lot.”
Rose smiled. “We’ve been here for hundreds of years, and most everyone knows and respects my little side business.”
“What side business?” Jill asked, eyeing Rose warily.
“It isn’t what you’re thinking,” Rose chuckled. “We stopped dabbling in prostitution and illegal liquor sales decades ago. I have a side business in matchmaking.”
“Matchmaking?”
Rose took a sip of her coffee, then nodded. “My ancestors called it magic, but I call it psychology. Basically, I ask you a few questions that help me determine your love personality—what you want from a partner, what you need from a partner, and so on. Then, I tell you what kind of love personality you should look for in your search for love. Sometimes I already know a potential match for someone. In that case, I let those two people know they’re compatible.”
Jill raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And that really works?”
“My family has matched people in this town for over a century. We’ve been pretty successful so far. Most of the couples in town met on our suggestion.” Rose grinned mischievously. “Care to try it?”
“I guess so,” Jill hesitantly replied.
Rose beamed at her, setting down her coffee cup and sitting up straight. She pulled a pen from her purse, and then proceeded to ask a series of questions that Jill felt had little to do with love, romance, or even sex. Jill answered each one with a bemused expression on her face and waited for Rose to scribble a few things down on a napkin. Rose set her pen down and studied the napkin in front of her for a long moment. She then looked up at Jill and gave her the same treatment.
Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Jill asked, “Well, what does it say?”
“It says,” Rose answered slowly, “that you should look for someone who is attentive and romantic. Someone who will sweep you off your feet.”
“Really?” Jill asked, mildly intrigued. “Well, I’ll keep a look out for a knight in shining armor.” She eyed the mostly uneaten slice of pie on Rose’s plate. “Are you finished with your pie?”
Rose nodded and pushed the plate toward the other woman. The gears in her mind clicked and whirred away. Jill’s answers showed two opposite but equally dominant love personalities within her, which was incredibly rare. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have more than one love personality, but one tended to be most prominent and they all typically complemented one another.
Rose hadn’t known what to do when she came to her conclusion, so she had told Jill about the result that seemed less shocking. If she had read Jill right, the fairly sheltered woman wasn’t quite ready to explore the other side to herself. But maybe, in time, she would be.
Either way, Rose was excited to see this play out. She smiled to herself as she watched Jill devour her slice of pie.
Things were certainly about to get interesting in their little town.
Roger Mayer exited the historic general store with a sigh of relief. As a firefighter in such a small town, Roger had grown used to sharing duties with his colleagues. They rotated the duties amongst themselves, ensuring everyone did a little of everything. Today, that meant Roger had to inspect some of the older buildings and make sure they complied with national and state
fire codes. Since Utah had recently passed new, stricter regulations for fire safety, many older buildings were no longer up to code.
Updating old buildings to comply with fire codes required large financial investments from the buildings’ owners, which never went over very well with them. For this reason, Roger hated this part of the job; he disliked upsetting anyone, but he was especially averse to upsetting the
townspeople he had known all his life. The general store, one of the oldest buildings in the town, had racked up a long list of violations that the owners needed to address. Fortunately for Roger, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson hadn’t seemed to take the news too hard, and he had scheduled a follow-up inspection of the store for next month.
Roger tossed his clipboard into the open window of his truck and glanced across the street at the diner, deciding he had enough time for a slice of pie before he had to return to the station. He entered the diner to find the counter in front of the kitchen unoccupied except for the stool on the far right, taken by a dark-haired man Roger knew only too well. He sat down on the spinning cushioned seat next to his long-time friend Luke, and asked Marge, the waitress, for a cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie.
Roger turned to Luke, who sipped his coffee, avoiding Roger’s gaze. “Luke, what are you doing here?”
“I imagine, the same thing you’re doing,” Luke replied with a shrug. “Getting some coffee and pie.”
“No, I meant, what are you doing here instead of at the firehouse?”
Luke eyed Roger and rested his elbows on the counter. “I was just meeting someone,” he said evasively.
“A woman?” Roger scoffed.
“Maybe.”
“You left the fire station unattended for a woman?” Roger repeated, incredulous.
Luke shot him a dirty look. “Contrary to your opinion of me, I am not a degenerate lowlife. I didn’t leave the firehouse unattended. Sam showed up early and told me I could go grab some food or something.”
Roger’s face flushed. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean it like that. Did you forget your lunch again? You should have told me. I would have brought you something back for you.”
Destiny: AN MFM Romance Page 2
