Just Say Maybe: A Thistle Bend Novel

by Tracy March

  Before Bryce had come to Thistle Bend, he’d mistakenly thought the larger problems with the lodge had started after it was under construction—mistreatment of contractors and employees, partial paychecks and IOUs, and default on a big fat loan, leaving people unpaid and unemployed. But he’d only had a glimpse of the big picture.

  His stomach pitched as he thought of what Holly and her family had been through—and everyone else who was negatively affected by the lodge.

  My father was a terror from the start.

  Something scratched at the back of his mind, something from the day he’d gone looking for a lawyer and been stunned to find that Holly was H. G. Birdsong. He’d been so busy trying to process the coincidence that he’d forgotten her exact words—until now.

  “Adam Evanston started blazing a trail of wretchedness the moment he came to Thistle Bend.”

  No understatement there. And Holly and her family hadn’t just stood by and watched as it happened. They’d personally suffered through it from the beginning.

  And they’re still suffering today.

  No wonder Dean had so vehemently taken up for his friend. From what Bryce could surmise from Dean’s comments to Holly, her grandmother had been around for the drama, yet must have passed away since. No wonder the story wrecked Holly’s emotions.

  Although he couldn’t change the past or make things whole for Holly and her family, he was determined to make himself and the lodge positive influences in their lives.

  While he was working on that, Bryce had to resolve his own unexpected issue with the lodge and his father. Finding the hidden suite had added a new layer of sickening intrigue to an already disturbing story. He assumed that the woman who’d likely lived there had circled the articles in the papers. That revealed little except an unusually keen interest in the negative drama caused by the lodge. Considering that the woman appeared to have been involved with his father, her interest wasn’t remarkable. But why save all the newspapers?

  Despite the answers he’d found tonight, Bryce still had plenty of questions. Who was the woman, and what had become of her? Clearly his father had done plenty of people wrong, but was he an even crueler man than Bryce had realized?

  As far as Bryce knew, his father was alive and presumably well, living in Las Vegas, working in management at one of the big casino hotels. But the young blonde Bryce had seen him pictured with on social media during the last five years was clearly not the woman from the suite.

  Bone tired from trying to make sense of it all, he rubbed his forehead and dragged his hand down his face. He put the last newspaper on top of the stack, got up, and headed for bed. Despite the firm mattress and comfortable pillow, he doubted he could sleep soundly after the bedtime story he’d just read. Lying down, he stared at the dark ceiling, pushing thoughts of the lodge and the woman from his mind, and just thinking about Holly.

  Holly…

  A few hours later, the chirping of birds caused him to blink open his eyes. He’d been lucky enough to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, avoiding the nightmares he’d feared. Sun streamed in through a part in the curtains, and he squinted, his eyes adjusting to the light. He was surprised to see his clothes strewn across the foot of the bed—he usually hung them up or put them in the hamper so he wouldn’t have to bother with them in the morning. His mom had told him over and over that it was easier to deal with a mess right after he made it than to have to deal with it later.

  The story he’d threaded together last night from the circled newspaper articles leapt into his mind. Clearly his father hadn’t adhered to his mother’s advice, and now Bryce was left to deal with the resulting mess.

  And I’m going to start with Holly.

  After a shower, a couple cups of coffee, and a slice of leftover pepperoni pizza, he got into the muddy Jeep and headed to Holly’s house. At just after eight, he hoped he wouldn’t be showing up too early. She’d told Dean she was going to help her grandpa plant a section of his garden today, and Bryce had no idea what time she would go. Hopefully he’d catch her before she left.

  He pulled up in front of her house—pretty and bright, well kept, with a wisp of whimsy, nestled on the quiet corner. It was easy to imagine Holly growing up there, and living there now, as if her personality matched the place.

  Bryce caught sight of her on the front porch swing and his heart hitched. He put the Jeep in park, grabbed the box he’d brought from the passenger seat, and got out.

  Holly swayed in the cushioned swing, holding a mug with both hands, a multicolored quilt slung over her lap. The morning was chilly—upper forties at best. But this was summer to the people in Thistle Bend. After the harsh winters they endured, forty-something probably felt balmy.

  She waved at him shyly as he made his way along the sidewalk, up the stairs, and onto the porch. Bryce loved her fresh-morning look—her hair all tousled and loose and sexy. She normally kept her makeup light, yet he admired her face without it, getting a clearer vision of little-girl Holly who’d turned cartwheels on the lawn. Her milk-chocolate-brown fleece pullover brought out the gold in her eyes, and they shimmered in the morning sun.

  “Hi there,” she said as he approached, his hiking boots thudding on the porch’s painted planks.

  He fought the urge to sit right down and kiss her. “Thought you might be looking for this.” He held out the box.

  Her eyes brightened. “Yes! Pineapple pizza is definitely what’s for breakfast.”

  He flattened his hand against his stomach. “Or pepperoni.”

  “Hope you were able to enjoy it more this morning,” she said with chagrin, setting the box aside. She lifted her mug. “Get you some coffee?”

  “Thanks, but I’m already buzzing from two big cups.”

  “Lucky you.” She patted the cushion next to her. “Wanna sit?”

  “Sure.”

  Holly touched her moccasins to the floor and stopped the swing from swaying. He joined her, pushing off of the balls of his feet and setting the swing in motion again.

  “Man,” he said, getting an eyeful of rugged Paintbrush Peak with the full-wattage blue sky glowing behind it. “You do have quite a view.”

  She smiled softly. “That mountain has been a part of my life for so long, but I never get tired of it. It’s so majestic and amazing. Quietly focusing on it is like a spiritual experience for me. Somehow it keeps me grounded.”

  “I understand. It’s like getting the gift of awe, seeing something so naturally magnificent every day.” All of the adrenaline-infused highs he’d experienced doing adventure sports weren’t nearly as satisfying as some of his calmer moments spent appreciating nature at its most beautiful. From an unexpected wildflower to a giant redwood. A towering, snow-covered mountain, or a vast serene sea. Bryce wanted a woman who could relate—a woman with whom he could share those moments. “I have a view from my villa in Costa Rica that does the same for me.”

  She took a sip of her coffee and nodded. “I bet it’s amazing.”

  “I’d like for you to see it someday.” Worried that she might not be interested, his stomach knotted around the slice of pepperoni pizza he’d eaten earlier.

  “Don’t even tell me about it,” she said.

  His heart stuttered. That sucker punch had come from nowhere. Here he was thinking that the two of them were really connecting, and she didn’t even want to hear about it?

  Holly gave him a sidelong look, the hint of a curve at the corners of her mouth. “I don’t want any preconceived notions. I’d rather be completely surprised and blown away when I see it.”

  Bryce exhaled. He’d love to take her to Los Halcón, to show her what his life was like there, and see how she might fit in with it. He reached behind her and propped his arm on the back of the swing, skimming his fingers along her shoulder and tangling them in her hair. “Fair enough.”

  She nodded once, looking pleased with their plan. Her mood seemed to have lifted since last night. He hated to bring it back down with talk of the lod
ge, but that was the main reason he’d come.

  The swing swayed back and forth and they sat for a while in silence.

  “I read the newspapers.” Bryce dared to ruin the mellow moment.

  “Thank you.” She gave him a rueful smile. “All the lodge issues were really hard on my grandpa, and that affected all of us.”

  “I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for him. That little talking-to I got from Dean yesterday wasn’t the most pleasant encounter, and your grandpa was getting that kind of stuff every day—for years.”

  Holly lifted one shoulder. “He was getting some encouragement, too. Especially in the beginning when he had to make the decision about the loan. But after that, it was mostly people blaming or complaining. He’s such a good-hearted man—he never meant to cause harm to anyone. It really wore on him.”

  This wasn’t about Bryce, but he could envision himself experiencing the same thing as soon as word got around town that he was buying the lodge.

  Holly drew her feet up into the swing and sat cross-legged, rearranging the quilt so it covered his lap, too. “My grandma warned him that he’d take all the blame for whatever went wrong and that vile Adam Evanston would get all the credit should things go right.”

  Bryce clenched his jaw. “Sounds like a wise woman.”

  “But there was very little credit and way too much blame,” she said. “Everywhere my grandparents went, they heard about what was going wrong. Both of them had lived here all their lives. They were liked and respected, active in the community—loved being involved in everything from bake sales to rooting for baseball teams that the bank sponsored. But it got to the point that they dreaded going into town.”

  Bryce shook his head, hoping he wasn’t getting a glimpse of his own future. “What did they do?”

  “Grandpa retired. That way he could just stay on the farm more. Grandma had been a teacher at Thistle Bend Community School, but she had a heart attack not long before Adam Evanston arrived on the scene—bypass surgery and all. She never went back to work after that. Her health was too fragile, and the doctors warned her to manage her stress, or she’d risk another heart attack.” Holly’s voice wavered. She bowed her head and stared into her coffee mug, her lips pressed together tightly.

  Bryce could tell where this was going, and his heart ached for her. He remembered how painful it had been when he’d lost James, which probably paled in comparison to her losing her grandmother, who’d loved her all her life. Bryce pulled her close, draping his arm around her. She nestled against him, and he kissed the top of her head.

  “They liked to garden together,” she said. “Grandpa got even more into it after he retired. Grandma would work out there when she could—it was good exercise. She loved to plant those seeds every year and nurture them into fruits and vegetables. But those times became fewer and further between. The stress of the years had worn on her—the stories of all the people who got cheated or lost their jobs or what have you. She internalized them all, took them on herself.”

  Holly’s shoulders lifted as she drew in a deep breath and seemed to hold it. “She had another heart attack not long after the bank foreclosed on the lodge—and that one took her. If she could’ve just held on while things settled…” She shook her head slowly. “The lodge was the basis of so much of her stress. That’s why everyone in my family gets tense whenever anyone even mentions the place. The chatter has died down over the last few years, but now…” She sighed, as if she might be relieved to have gotten the story out without breaking down.

  I’ve come along and stirred up all their memories. All their emotions.

  Guilt weighed heavily on him. He took her hand, still warm from holding the coffee mug, and laced his chilly fingers between hers. “I’m so sorry.” He kissed her gently.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Me too.”

  Bryce shook his head. “I had no idea,” he said honestly, but that wasn’t the full truth. “I mean, I had heard some of the horror stories, but only as if they were headlines, like the ones circled in those newspapers. But nothing as personal and painful as what you and your family have gone through.” His chest tightened with both sympathy and rage. How could his father have done this to Holly and her family—and others—and walk away without remorse?

  “It’s awful because my grandma and I were really close,” she said. “It would be heart-wrenching regardless, but having known her so well makes it worse.” She released his hand and took off the narrow silver cuff bracelet she wore and handed it to him. “That was my thirteenth birthday present from her.”

  The bracelet appeared even smaller and more delicate in his hand. He smoothed his thumb across the cool silver, the patina still bright. “It’s beautiful.”

  She sat up straighter and set her gaze on him, her eyes glistening. “Look inside.”

  Bryce tipped the bracelet at an angle, revealing a tiny inscription. Drawing it closer, he squinted and read…

  Always love.

  His heart melted. What a sweet grandma thing—getting the sentiment backward. “Did she mean love always?”

  Holly smiled, yet sorrow still filled her eyes. “I asked her that, too. But she told me she liked it better this way. Always love. So that’s what I try to do, in honor of her, and because it makes life a whole lot happier. I rarely take off the bracelet, so that reminds me—of her…of how to treat people.”

  Lost for words, Bryce nodded and blinked back a surge of emotion. He’d wondered how he might get Holly to open up, or if he could. Now that he knew her gut-wrenching story, he understood why she hadn’t been eager to tell it. Yet instead of crying victim and being bitter—for which he couldn’t blame her if she was—she’d found a positive way to deal with it that gripped his heart.

  Always love.

  Whichever word came first or last, it worked. And it told him so much about the amazing woman who was sitting next to him on the swing. He had no idea what he’d done to deserve a chance to win Holly’s heart, yet he was determined to do it.

  “Grandpa built a huge greenhouse in her memory,” Holly said. “He cultivates the whole garden with her in mind. That’s why he’s so dedicated to it. He spends his winters studying and revising garden plans, planning plant rotation, reading seed catalogs cover to cover, and buying new seeds for the next season. Having the greenhouse allows him to get the seedlings started so they’re ready to go after the last frost.” Holly became more animated as she talked about the garden. “Then we plant them and everyone hopes for the best.”

  “Everyone?”

  She smiled, and Bryce was happy to see it reach her eyes. “Pretty much the entire town. Grandpa is the Santa Claus of produce in Thistle Bend, only his is a summer gig. As soon as the fruits and vegetables start coming in, he leaves baskets of whatever’s fresh on people’s front porches. He keeps the local restaurants stocked, too. People love those goody baskets—and my grandpa.”

  Clearly there’d been some changes for the good since the lodge drama had died down, and that was welcome news to Bryce. “He just gives it away?”

  “He sure does. And he won’t let anyone pay him. He’ll accept a free meal from the restaurants once in a while, but he’ll tip the server whatever the meal would’ve cost.”

  Holly’s grandpa seemed to be as resilient as she, finding constructive ways to cope with the loss of his wife, and to reconnect with the townspeople after so many trying times. Bryce admired his generosity toward them, considering the undeserved blame that many had cast upon him in the past. Other people might not understand his way of handling things, but it really resonated with Bryce. Fred Birdsong had made a tough decision in a no-win situation. He felt responsible for the bad times the lodge had wrought upon the people of Thistle Bend—although he wasn’t. Giving out fresh fruits and vegetables that he’d grown in a labor of love was his way of making peace with it all.

  Bryce could totally relate to his quest. He wasn’t responsible for what his father had done to this
town and its people either, yet he felt compelled to make up for it.

  “The Santa Claus of produce, huh?” Bryce raised his eyebrows. A smile tugged at his lips.

  “Yep.” Holly raised her chin proudly. “That’s my grandpa.”

  As awkward as it was likely to be when it happened, Bryce said, “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  Chapter 13

  Calypso Coffee was one of the most chill coffee shops Bryce had ever been in—cabin-style, with wide-plank floors and colorful cushioned booths, the tables hewn from knotty slabs of wood. The building was one of the town’s originals, and they’d managed to update it while maintaining its charm. The kicker? The sweet-and-doughy aroma of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls was so thick in the air he could practically taste it.

  Bryce sat in a corner booth, facing the door, waiting for his third cup of coffee of the day to lose some of its steam. His talk with Holly had left him reeling with unexpected emotions—anger, sympathy, determination.

  And relief.

  At least he had one piece of the lodge puzzle in place—he understood why Holly and her grandpa were wary about him and his project. It was bad enough that Holly’s grandpa had often been blamed for the troubles that plagued the lodge. But then her grandma had died, multiplying their woes to an incalculable number. They’d lost someone they dearly loved and cherished. He remained blown away by the bittersweet ways that they coped with their loss. In time, he hoped they’d be as gracious about Bryce’s “new” lodge, and allow it to transition back into their lives.

  A trail ride—even on a rental bike—would help him organize his thoughts and reduce his stress, and the morning was perfect for it. Even so, getting on a mountain bike was a definite no-go for him today. His knee was still barking from his 9.3 dismount, and his questions about the woman from the suite at the lodge were too pressing for him to ignore. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out the calendars he’d been too tired to look at last night, hoping to find some answers.