Gage decided to be positive and plan as if the store was his. “So, it seems your timing was perfect for this trip,” he said, paying attention to his friend again.
“How’s that?” Keenan pulled a root beer from the cooler. He held it up for Gage.
“Ah, my favorite. Don’t mind if I do.” Gage leaned forward and took the proffered can, popping the tab and taking a drink as if it were a ninety-five-degree day in July instead of a much cooler one in early November.
“Of course, it is, you idiot. You packed the cooler.” Keenan rooted around, and Gage knew what he was looking for. Though he’d hidden them on the bottom just to make Keenan wonder, Gage had brought lemonade. Keenan pulled one out with a smile. He saluted Gage with the can and settled back in his seat to enjoy the drink.
“Because I need your expertise about improvements on the store. Maybe you could come by and check it out with me?”
“Sure.” Keenan reeled in, his line empty again. Keenan wasn’t so lucky when it came to catching fish. “Remodeling. Now that sounds more fun than fishing. What kinds of projects do you expect?” He set aside the pole and leaned toward Gage, his elbows on his knees.
Gage followed Keenan’s lead and put away his fishing equipment. “If you ask me, the whole place needs freshening up. It’s old, but I think it’s all cosmetic. New flooring, paint, better lighting. In fact”—he was sure of it, now that the thought had occurred to him—“I’d like to hire you to do the work.”
Keenan had that look as if he were considering some mental calendar. “When would you need me?” With their gear put away, Keenan picked up a paddle, and the two of them started slowly back toward the shore and Gage’s truck.
“That depends on the contract, I guess—when we’re able to get into the store. Probably a couple of weeks, I would guess. But I’ll try to give you a heads-up.”
“Wow. You’d do that for me?” Keenan’s sarcasm was refreshing. One of the things Gage missed about his old roommate—someone who didn’t take him too seriously. “I guess my agreeing, then, depends on your timing. I can’t say I won’t be knee-deep in another project when you are finally ready to schedule.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” Gage grinned at him.
“One stipulation. Well, in addition to payment—monetary payment …” Keenan stressed, as if Gage ever took advantage of him, but that was one of their long-standing jokes.
Gage cocked his head to the side, waiting for it.
“And in addition to you giving me enough notice …”
Gage raised his eyebrows. “And that condition is?” he prompted, holding his paddle a few inches out of the water, resting it on the side of the canoe as the water dripped into the inky blackness of the lake.
“I need my partner.”
“The girlfriend won’t let you out of her sight?” Gage teased.
“Fiancée, and I’m here, aren’t I? But I can’t always be running off and leaving her. Besides, you’ll need more of a crew than me.”
“What am I?” Gage feigned hurt.
“I’ve seen you with a hammer. Avery’s got you beat, hands down.”
“Fine.” Gage gave up the joking. “I’m looking forward to meeting this woman anyway. I get the sense you like her.”
Keenan shook his head and started paddling again, quickly this time, turning their canoe around in a circle like one of the Disneyland teacups in slow motion. If he kept this up, Gage was going to be sick. To interrupt the circular motion, Gage dipped his paddle in, coordinating his strokes with Keenan’s, and they headed back to shore.
Chapter 3
After she agreed to the partnership and signed the offer to lease Owen’s Outfitters, Brynn watched the other members of the impromptu meeting split off. The real estate agents funneled out the exit, chattering like old friends despite being on opposite sides of the deal and having more than a couple decades between them. Mrs. Bradshaw headed to the back of the store to assist a young couple shopping for hiking boots, and for a moment, Brynn lingered to watch their interaction. This was what she was signing up for. Could she imagine doing it day in and day out? Talking about her beloved Sierra Blanca Mountains? Yes, she could.
By the time Brynn found her way out, Liz and Martin were driving away. The deal felt final, the world quiet, and if she was going to panic, it should have been now. But as Brynn stood on the sidewalk, contentment and a sense of purpose settled around her, lighting upon her shoulders like the season’s first snowfall. And exactly as she would have felt with that snowfall, came the rising excitement of competition. Bring it on.
But owning a business wasn’t supposed to be a competition, was it?
Her whole life, Brynn had struggled to beat out the number-one skier so she could be on top. More often than not, she finished just a hair behind. It had pushed her to work harder, be better than she could have achieved on her own, but it had also been disappointing and a little bruising to the ego. Finally, the store was to be her chance to do it all on her own. She wasn’t supposed to be compared to others, or have to worry how she measured up, or work extra hard to do better than someone else. She’d been looking forward to only having to compete against herself, but that wasn’t to be. Sure, she didn’t have to beat out Mr. Konewko exactly, but if she wanted the store to herself the following year, she had to convince Mrs. Bradshaw that she was the best person for the job. So if Mrs. Bradshaw and Mr. Konewko wanted competition, Brynn would give them competition.
Brynn stepped into the parking lot toward the street. Cars drove past, slow and meandering in the autumn afternoon. With school thick in session and no snow in the foreseeable future, the number of tourists had tightened into a trickle, but that also left the town peaceful. Quiet added to the beauty of this time of year, especially in Ruidoso.
At right around eight thousand residents, Ruidoso was a small getaway in the Lincoln National Forest, famous for being home to Smokey the Bear, yet obscure enough to be off most travelers’ radar. It was three hours southeast of Albuquerque and pretty much on the road to nowhere, so unless someone was lost, they made it into town deliberately. It was easily the best-kept secret in New Mexico.
Activity in the town might currently be in slow motion, but for her, the days held the promise of beginnings around the corner—a new business, life in a town she’d only visited before, and her favorite time of year: ski season. Soon, this parking lot would be teeming with activity—hopefully in time for Thanksgiving, if she had any say in the matter. But of course she had a say in it. She was one of the new owners. The thought made her smile.
Brynn strolled down the historic main street of quaint side-by-side shops with a new business perspective. She was now part of this community—her store an equal to those she walked among. Peering into each store window was like greeting a mentor who had recently become a colleague. There were clothing and handmade jewelry boutiques, art galleries and furniture stores. Shops that sold everything from children’s trinkets to kitschy tourist key chains and mugs. As she noticed a trend, Brynn’s eye sought out the chainsaw-carved bear she inevitably found. Most stores had at least one bear standing sentry by the front door. Many businesses sold them as well, offering poses and sizes unique to each store. The bears were snatched up by tourists and local residents alike, who then decorated their cabins in the local tradition.
Brynn hadn’t planned to step into any of the shops today, but when she passed Basque in d’Light, the smell of chocolate drew her in like a fishing line pulled taut. The small café was known for its gourmet hot chocolate and Basque pastries, and suddenly Brynn felt like celebrating her new business venture with macarons. The only question was which of the pastel-colored flavors she wanted to try this time.
Brynn pushed open the door. Her stomach rumbled when the alluring sweet scents competed with the yeasty smell of baking bread. Having a proper lunch was probably wiser than filling up on cookies.
“You’re just in time,” a young voice called from behind a wall.
“I just finished the chocolate berets.” A woman wrapped in the store’s signature pink-and-aqua ruffled apron sauntered in, balancing a metal tray so large, her arms could barely reach the other side. It didn’t help that she was petite and her hands no bigger than an average ten-year-old’s. On the tray were about three dozen miniature chocolate puffs sprinkled with either sanding sugar, confectioner’s sugar, or chocolate sprinkles. That explained the enticing smell.
“Oh, hi, Brynn! I’m glad it’s you. That might have sounded a little crazy to some tourist who didn’t know me.”
Not that Brynn knew Espe that well either.
Brynn chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Espe. Your treats speak for themselves.”
She was slightly self-conscious that they were already on a first-name basis. Brynn had only been in town a few weeks and had already been in the café an embarrassingly high number of times.
Recognizing that Espe needed to maneuver through a swinging half-door so she could tuck the tray behind the counter, Brynn reached down and held it open. As Espe squeezed by, the smell of chocolate was more than Brynn could take. “I’m going to have to get one of those for sure, but I’m really here for lunch.”
Espe set the tray in the display case, wiped her hands on her apron, and focused on Brynn. “Do you know what you want, or do you need a minute to check the board?”
Basque in d’Light served a handful of pastries in the mornings, bagel sandwiches and paninis in the afternoon, and mini cakes and cookies, handmade lollipops in vibrant glassy colors, and gourmet hot chocolate all day long. Instead of a menu, Espe wrote the day’s offerings on a long chalkboard above the display cases. Availability relied wholly upon what Espe had decided to whip up that morning.
Brynn consulted the board long enough to check that Espe had her favorite staple. “I’ll take the hot ham and provolone on the jalapeño bagel.”
“Without the tomato?”
“You know me too well.” Brynn would have to make a goal to cook at her duplex more often.
“Water with lemon and a chocolate beret?” Espe cocked her head to the side, her sleek dark hair falling to the side. “The ones with chocolate sprinkles have a sweet cream filling.” Her dark eyes squinted slightly, accenting her wide smile and olive skin, and dared Brynn to choose something different.
“Sounds heavenly.”
“I’ll be right back.” Espe disappeared into the back with a “Make yourself comfortable” over her shoulder.
A brick archway separated the candy shop from the café seating area. Glancing around the dining room, Brynn wasn’t surprised to find it empty of patrons. She chose her favorite table under the mullioned window. The table was bathed in cheery light and boasted a view of the pedestrian traffic among the street’s shops.
“Order up,” Espe announced, and set a warm plate in front of Brynn. She flanked it with a glass of ice water and a dessert plate topped with a white paper doily and a small dome of spongy goodness. Brynn wasn’t sure she’d be able to finish it all.
On the tray, Espe held another similar place setting. “Okay if I join you?” Espe smiled. “Since I’m oh so busy. And your sandwich smelled so good.”
“Of course.” Brynn motioned to the other side of the table. “That’d be great.”
Espe made quick work of setting her side of the table, leaned the tray against the wall beside her, and sat in the chair opposite Brynn. Her smile set off a feathering of fine wrinkles around her eyes, even though she couldn’t be thirty yet. It was this friendliness, this instant acceptance, that brought Brynn back to the store every few days, though the decadent sweets were a nice bonus.
Espe unrolled a napkin from around her silverware and smoothed it on her lap. “You told me last week that today would be the day. What did you decide about Owen’s?”
Brynn rolled her eyes. “The right thing, I hope.”
“What happened?” Espe stirred her water with her straw, the lemon twirling with the ice so fast that it made the glass appear to have a yellow streak.
Brynn dove into the story, taking a bite of warm gooeyness whenever she paused for Espe to ask a question.
“The next step, I guess, is to meet this Mr. Konewko. I need to see if we can work together. We need make a plan and run it by a small-business lawyer of some sort—do they have those? It sounds kind of crazy now that I say all this out loud. I know nothing about Mr. Konewko other than he likes fishing and camping, and yet I’m supposed to be his partner?” Her comment came out as a question, her inflection mirroring the uncertainty that swirled in her stomach like the lemon in Espe’s water. “He’d better not be some old guy who won’t take me seriously.”
“What would make you think he’s old?” Espe leaned forward, engrossed in the conversation.
Brynn had to think about that a moment. No one had actually said that, but … “Fishing. Only old men are into fishing.”
“Not true.” Espe laughed. “But if he is, maybe he’ll … expire … and leave the business to you.”
Brynn burst out laughing. The idea, and the word choice especially, were just so unexpected. “I can’t believe you said that!”
Espe shook her head. “Or maybe he’ll lose interest when he realizes being in a small town isn’t as lucrative as he’d imagined.” Espe motioned to her empty dining room. “It isn’t always easy.”
Brynn swallowed with a pang of fear. “Oh, don’t tell me that. I don’t want to do it if it’s not going to work.” She took a gulp of water. “But I suppose that’s one of the good things about having a partner,” she tried to assure herself. “My investment is half what I thought it would be.”
Which meant two things—the store would need to be financially stable enough to support two owners as well as sustain itself, but it also meant she wouldn’t lose quite as much if it folded. “Who knows? Maybe Mr. Konewko won’t agree to the lease and the one-year challenge.”
“Or maybe it’ll turn out perfectly. He could do the behind-the-scenes business and leave the day-to-day running of the store to you,” Espe suggested.
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” While the disappointment of not being the sole proprietor lapped over her again like a wave on a lakeshore, Brynn had to take the time between to remind herself that this arrangement had its positives as well.
She absently cut into the spongy cake and was surprised by a spring of cream that burst forth. She placed a bite in her mouth. “Oh, wow!” Brynn closed her eyes to concentrate on the delicate balance between the chocolate and the cream. Most of the other Basque desserts, while quite tasty, were more flakey and buttery. “You know I liked the cake with the almond-flavored layers and cherry filling—it was amazing—but this …” Brynn took another small bite, savoring it as it melted onto her tongue. “This is heaven.”
Espe’s cheeks flushed, red creeping up from the neck of her blue-and-white peasant blouse. “Thank you. It’s my new favorite too. But make sure you come back tomorrow. This afternoon I’m trying out a recipe for pumpkin spice lollipops to go with the pumpkin spice hot chocolate. I think they’ll be a hit with the Thanksgiving crowd.”
“I’m sure they’ll love it. There’s pumpkin everything else.” She didn’t mention that she wouldn’t be trying it. Pumpkin anything made her stomach turn. She pulled some cash from her wallet and set it on the table.
“Uh-uh.” Espe pushed the bills toward Brynn. “You did me a favor by keeping me company and making me eat lunch rather than sampling new lollipop flavors all afternoon.” Espe stocked the expected flavors—cherry, watermelon, root beer, and caramel—but she also carried ones like cranberry-plum, pistachio, and apple-cinnamon, displayed in Mason jars with handwritten labels.
Brynn made no move to pick up the money.
“I’m serious,” Espe warned in a surprisingly scary voice, and eyed the money with a glare that almost set the money on fire. “If you don’t let this be my treat, I won’t let you back in my store.” Brynn’s hand hovered over the money in hesita
tion, and Espe made one last plea. “I promise to let you pay next time.”
Brynn sighed and then smiled, tucking the cash back into her wallet. “Thanks for the chat and the eats.” She swung her purse over her shoulder as she stood to leave. “Delicious as always.”
Espe rose and stacked the plates on top of each other, loading them with the glasses onto the tray with ease.
“I know I sound a little worried, but really, I feel oddly calm.” Brynn gave a wan smile to her friend. “I hope I’m not in denial or anything.”
Espe wrinkled her nose and shook her head, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Don’t be silly. If you feel good about it, go for it. You can’t be afraid to reach out and take what you want. If you don’t, you could end up missing something great.”
Or I could end up making a fool of myself again. With some effort, Brynn pushed aside the feeling of failure that lingered when she thought of her hopes and dreams. She’d invested so much last time, and what did she have to show for it? Sore muscles, surgical scars, and an emotional void that perpetually needed to be filled. On the other hand, if she could apply her passion for skiing into making this business work, perhaps it would be just the fix she needed.
“Thanks, Espe.” Brynn leaned forward and gave her a quick hug. “You’re the best.”
Espe balanced her tray on the counter. “It sounds like the perfect opportunity—if you don’t like it this time next year, you haven’t even lost anything.”
Brynn had to agree with that. “You’re right.” A different thought occurred to her. “Have you ever made a pastry with peanut butter?”
Espe shook her head. “Basques use a lot of almonds, but peanuts?” Her eyelids fluttered closed and she sucked in her cheeks as if she were tasting the thoughts. “If it was balanced with chocolate in the traditional almond-flour pastry, maybe …” She paused another second. “I could try it. Just for you.”
Kayaks and Kisses: A Romance Renovation Novel (Vintage Romance) Page 3
