by Tracy March
“Guess Carden would’ve finished it if he hadn’t gone to Denver,” Holly said.
Lindsey’s eyes widened but she caught herself, narrowing them quickly and pretending something had gotten into one of them. She pressed her finger into the corner of her eye and blinked several times. How had Holly known he’d gone to Denver? Lindsey shrugged, as if she hadn’t known herself.
“Stella said she and Travis are meeting Carden and his folks there on Wednesday,” Holly said. “Then they’re heading to Georgia for the wedding. I can’t wait to see the pictures.” She headed up the steepening trail and Lindsey followed. “You’re going to love Emily. She’ll be new to town just like you, so you two will have lots in common.”
In addition to being crazy about a Crenshaw brother.
“Can’t wait to meet her,” Lindsey said.
They crossed a babbling stream over a path of rocks jutting just above the water. Lindsey smiled, remembering splashing through the streams in the Jeep with Carden.
“Stella also mentioned that the people from Colorado Living magazine are coming out here to do that big spread on Carden the week after they get back,” Holly said.
Lindsey tensed. Hopper had been mentioned frequently in D.C. magazines, and here she was falling for another publicized bachelor. “Is it one of those most eligible bachelors articles?”
“I don’t think so, but I guess that could come up in the interview. It’s supposed to be a profile piece focusing on the land the Crenshaws are designating for conservancy. Maybe they’ll name him as Colorado’s most eligible nature-conserving bachelor,” Holly quipped. “That’d be a fresh angle.”
Lindsey liked the idea that the Crenshaws were designating land for nature conservation, but the bachelor angle brought back bad memories. She’d have to work to change her thinking, because Carden was nothing like Hopper—at least what she knew of him so far.
The incline of the trail steepened further, with rocks forming natural steps. Keeping pace behind Holly, Lindsey struggled to draw a full breath. Even Holly sounded a little winded as they topped the incline and entered a clearing.
Lindsey stopped, working to catch her breath, and took in the view. About fifty yards away, an imposing building constructed of weathered wood and stone rose up against the mountain backdrop—windows dark, landscape scrubby and uncultivated. What Lindsey guessed to be about five-hundred feet below was a gorgeous lake, shimmering with hues of dark blue topaz and emerald. Beyond was the valley, the distant craggy peaks, and a clear sky.
“Wow,” Lindsey said after she managed to get her lungs full. “This view is stunning. And that lake. I’ve never seen one with such brilliant colors.”
“That’s Turquoise Lake.” Holly pointed beyond it. “And you can see Thistle Bend way down there” She hitched her thumb toward the building. “And this—”
“Is creepy.”
“Right?” Holly headed toward it and Lindsey followed. “It’s an abandoned would-be hotel.”
“Would be?”
“It was never finished, even though it looks like it from the outside.”
“Seems like it would’ve been a spectacular place to open one,” Lindsey said. “I’d come here for the view alone.”
“It is kind of remote, but that’d be the appeal of a place like this.”
Gazing down into the valley at Thistle Bend, Lindsey thought about how long they’d driven just to get to the trailhead.
“Not only that,” Holly said, pointing farther up the mountain, “Wild Rose Ridge is just up the trail. There’s a storybook view from there.”
At the front of the abandoned hotel, they sat on the steps of the sprawling porch. A chipmunk skittered from underneath, darted over to some nearby boulders, and disappeared into a shadowy crevice.
Holly propped her elbows on her knees. “Maybe someone will buy the hotel and land someday. Someone hot and rugged and single.” She grinned. “I keep hoping.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed, too.” Hot and rugged and single would be good, yet Lindsey also hoped Holly would find a guy as nice as Carden.
“Speaking of land,” Holly said. “I wish I had more dirt on the Crenshaw/Karlsson land deal so I could help with your exhibit dilemma.”
“That makes two of us. Clearly I can’t present the Crenshaws as having stolen the deal.” Lindsey couldn’t bring herself to call them thieves like her Aunt Tansy had. “From everything I’ve learned and heard, there’s no disputing that the Karlssons were outbid.”
Holly nodded. “The Crenshaws bought it, Ruby Eileen ended up with it, Brooks Karlsson bitched about it the rest of his life, and his family has done the same ever since. That about sums it up.”
Carden had said something similar, in fewer words.
“I just don’t know how to break it to the Karlssons,” Lindsey said. “They seemed to have such high hopes for some kind of validation.”
And they’re expecting me to deliver.
“High hopes is putting it mildly. The Crenshaws have always come out on top. The Karlssons can’t change history, but they’re desperate to show that they’ve been right all these years.”
Lindsey’s heart sank. “Nothing points to that.” She propped her elbows on her knees, mirroring Holly. “You’ve had more interaction with Tansy Karlsson than I have—Oscar, too. Should I disappoint them now and let them get used to the idea, or should I wait until we’re closer to getting the exhibit done?”
“I wish you had the luxury of that choice,” Holly said, “but you don’t. You’ll have to put the information in your exhibit proposal that’s due Friday. You can’t just leave it as a question mark. That would make you appear indecisive and call into question the extent to which you’d done your due diligence regarding the subject.” Holly had switched into lawyer mode. “As soon as it gets to the board, word will be out. If only for self-preservation, I’d tell the Karlssons myself before I’d let them hear it from someone else.”
Lindsey buried her head in her hands. She’d been avoiding her great-aunt and -uncle. Now she had to face them. To tell them the last thing she wanted to, and the last thing they’d want to hear.
—
“Thank you for having me to dinner again,” Lindsey said to her aunt Tansy and uncle Oscar. In The Canary, they sat in the same alcove, at the same table, with the same menu and waitress they’d had the first time Lindsey had been their guest. The only differences were their clothes, the rumble of thunder outside with random flashes of lightning, and Lindsey being twelve times more nervous than she had been before.
She’d figured that dining with Tansy and Oscar again at The Canary wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows considering Tansy volunteered at the museum. If anyone was keeping score, she could be placed with Carden more often that she could be with her great-aunt and -uncle—yet another worry on her mind.
They’d gotten through the appetizers with pleasant small talk about how Lindsey was settling in and how well tourist season was going. From what Lindsey remembered, that was further than they’d made it last time before talk of the family feud.
Shelby, the skinny waitress with the big eyeglasses, hurried over with a heaping platter of golden fried chicken on her tray. Lindsey’s mouth watered when she caught the scent of it.
“Lordy, what a storm,” Shelby said as she served a huge bowl of mashed potatoes with a puddle of yellow butter melting in the middle. She added a bowl of creamed corn, and another of fresh green beans. Seeming eager to be thorough in front of her bosses, she turned back the napkin in the bread basket and checked to make sure they had plenty of homemade biscuits.
“We’re hoping you have good news,” Oscar said after Shelby left the table.
Lindsey had decided to take the advice Holly had given her the other night. Her aunt and uncle deserved to know what to expect from her exhibit proposal, as difficult as it would be to tell them. She’d given herself as much time as possible, working to turn up anything new regarding the land deal. Thursday had co
me quickly, and nothing had changed.
Time had run out.
She was afraid she may have gotten Oscar and Tansy’s hopes up when she’d called this morning and asked if she could join them for dinner. The excitement in Oscar’s eyes confirmed her fear.
Tansy looked at her expectantly, presenting the platter of chicken so Lindsey could select a piece. “Have you found something?”
Lightning flashed outside. Thunder shook the restaurant, rattling the bay window.
Lindsey winced. As soon as everything settled, she took a fat chicken leg from the platter. “Thank you.”
“Have two pieces,” Tansy said, her tone calm and cheerful despite the driving rain blowing against the window.
Lindsey took a thigh off the top of the stack and waited for Oscar and Tansy to serve themselves. “I wish I had found something. I’m still looking. Still asking questions.” She lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. “Still scrutinizing every donation to see if there’s something that might vindicate the Karlssons.”
Tansy and Oscar’s expressions soured.
Oscar stabbed a serving spoon into the bowl of mashed potatoes. “Dammit,” he said, and plopped a heap of potatoes onto his plate with a splat. He shoved the bowl toward Tansy.
Lindsey’s stomach twisted. She’d rather be outside in the storm than sitting here right now. “I’m using all of my resources. Aunt Tansy, you’re a museum volunteer. You’ve seen what’s been donated, and we’ve found nothing new related to the dispute.”
Tansy wasn’t much gentler with the mashed potatoes. “So has Stella Crenshaw.” She held the bowl and Lindsey took a dollop of potatoes. “She probably found some evidence of the Crenshaw’s thievery and stole it, too.”
“Once a thief, always a thief,” Oscar muttered.
Lindsey felt bad for them. They were nice people when they didn’t allow themselves to be consumed by the missing details of a land deal that had happened more than a century ago. No doubt Oscar—and generations of Karlssons before him—had been raised believing their family had been wronged, despite the lack of evidence. But worrying about how the history would be documented in the museum had really sent them into a spin.
“Nothing I’ve seen would lead me to believe that.” Lindsey held her breath. Maybe she could broker some kind of peace agreement between the two families.
“Then you might need to look harder.” Oscar tossed back a swallow of his Jameson on the rocks.
Lindsey nodded. “Is there any possibility we’ve overlooked something tangible in the Karlsson family history that proves our position?”
Oscar cut a sharp glance at her. “Like I told you when you were here last, someone else has it.”
And Lindsey was back where she’d started. Discouraged, she took a bite of the tender, juicy chicken. Beyond delicious. One bite proved why they didn’t need other entrées on The Canary’s menu.
“I’ve got a detailed exhibit proposal due to the board on Friday,” she said. “Both of your profiles will be in the Movers and Shakers section, along with other prominent Karlssons. The Canary will be represented a couple of times, so I’m really excited about that.” She decided not to mention the one-hundredth engagement item that would be in the Memories and Milestones section, featuring Travis Crenshaw’s engagement to Emily Parker.
“The one-hundredth engagement?” Tansy pursed her lips.
Lindsey gave her a small nod as another roll of thunder rumbled.
“That sneaky Travis Crenshaw,” Tansy said. “He ruined what could’ve been a perfect moment in history for The Canary.”
Lindsey took a bite of her fluffy homemade biscuit.
“His brother, Carden, is worse,” Oscar said. “Strutting around. Always doing something to get attention with the land that should’ve been ours.”
Lindsey’s heart hiccuped. That wasn’t at all the Carden she knew. She chewed casually, ignoring the heat creeping up her neck and into her face. “I’m just really happy the Karlssons and The Canary will have plenty of representation in the museum.” Her cellphone pinged with a text message. “Excuse me a moment. Darlene is helping me prepare the proposal. I asked her to text me if she had questions.” She reached into her purse and tipped her phone so she could see the message.
Carden.
Got a surprise for you when I get home.
Lindsey’s pulse pounded. She didn’t even have to look up to feel the weight of Tansy and Oscar’s gazes on her, questioning, as if they’d read Carden’s message themselves.
“Everything okay?” Tansy asked.
Lindsey nodded, thrilled that Carden was thinking of her, although his timing couldn’t have been worse. They’d video chatted every evening since he’d been gone, giving her something to look forward to after her long days at work. For now, she was still stuck in the middle of a hell of a mess with her great-aunt and -uncle. She owed them a lot, despite their loose grip on reality. If it wasn’t for them, she wouldn’t have a job, or even be in Thistle Bend. If it wasn’t for them, she wouldn’t have met Carden. Could she leave a question mark in her exhibit proposal and hope something materialized between now and the museum opening?
You can’t just leave it as a question mark. That would make you appear indecisive and call into question the extent to which you’d done your due diligence regarding the subject.
Lindsey could practically hear Holly speaking in her lawyer voice.
“Back to your exhibit proposal that’s due Friday,” Oscar said, holding a forkful of creamed corn in front of his mouth. “What do you plan to put in there about the land deal?”
Chapter 21
Carden ducked into the tiny anteroom just off the church’s vestibule, tugging his finger between his neck and his shirt collar. If he could only take off his black bow tie. Weddings made him sweat, in general, and the temperature in the historic little church wasn’t helping. Its antiquated air conditioner was no match for Savannah’s July heat, the air so humid he could practically drink it.
Despite the wedding chaos, at least every other thought he had was of Lindsey. Visions of her naked in his bed, breathlessly calling his name, only increased the heat. He couldn’t get back to her fast enough. Video chatting with her was no substitute for having her in his arms.
Along with the other groomsmen, Carden had been seating wedding guests for the last half hour. Organ playing. Candles burning. Flowers cascading from windowsills and pews.
“The wedding coordinator said it’ll be time for you two in a second,” he told his mom and Gran, who waited in the anteroom.
His mom looked as lovely as he’d ever seen her. She wore her dark hair in a simple updo—at least that’s what he’d heard women call it—and a shimmery sheath dress that he’d guess was peridot, if he was asked the color. Gran looked radiant in amethyst. It wasn’t long after the Crenshaws had gotten into the lapis business that Carden began associating colors with gemstones.
“Prettiest ladies I’ll walk down the aisle today,” he said.
“Thank you, son.” His mom clutched his biceps. “You look so handsome. Let me get a picture of you and Gran real quick.” She pulled her phone out of her clutch.
The photographer had already snapped a few of Carden and Gran together, but he wasn’t about to disappoint his mom. He stepped over next to Gran and put his arm around her narrow shoulders.
She patted his back. “That tuxedo suits you.”
“Don’t get used to it.” He winked.
“Hush while I take the picture,” his mom said lightly. “Smile.”
Carden smiled for what had to be the hundredth time today, and his mom snapped a photo.
“Now one by yourself,” she said to him.
Gran happily stepped aside. “One less I have to pose for.”
Carden gave his mom a smaller smile this time, uncomfortable in front of a camera when with others, and even more uneasy alone. He dreaded next week’s photo shoot with Colorado Living magazine. The interview would be no problem—good
publicity for the Crenshaw Family Trust and for nature conservancy—but the photo shoot would be painful.
His mom clicked the photo and checked it out. “Lovely,” she said, her fingers busy tapping the screen of her phone. “I’m sending the pictures to both of you.”
Someone knocked on the door and opened it. The middle-aged wedding coordinator peeked in, looking a little pink-cheeked. The heat must be getting to her, too.
“We’re ready for you, ladies…and gentleman.” She smiled, nodded at Carden, and was gone.
“Let’s go get Travis hitched.” Carden held the door for his mom, who stepped into the vestibule, then offered his arm to Gran.
“Pay attention, because you’re next,” Gran said as she linked her arm in his. He knew better than to argue. If he did, she’d still be giving him grief about it as he walked her down the aisle.
Carden seated Gran and came back for his mom. He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Love you, Mom.”
She smiled, clutched his arm, and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I love you too, son.”
Carden’s heart hitched just like it did every time she said that to him. He’d never get tired of hearing it.
“Got your tissues handy?” he asked.
She nodded, her eyes already teary as they got the signal from the wedding coordinator to head down the aisle. Carden kissed her cheek again before she was seated, then joined Travis, his dad, and the rest of the groomsmen in the vestibule near the altar.
“I can’t believe it’s finally time,” Travis said to Carden. Travis looked cooler in his tux since he’d had the luxury of standing still instead of working up a sweat seating guests—a fringe benefit of being the groom.
Carden put his arm around Travis and squeezed his shoulder, pleased to see him so thrilled. “No more countdown calendar.”
The organist finished Canon in D and transitioned to Clarke’s Trumpet Voluntary. Their mom loved classical music and had played it in the house while he and Travis had been growing up, teaching them to identify each piece. Carden preferred country, or classic rock, but sometimes when he was lonely, he’d listen to classical music. Hearing it was like getting a hug from his mom.
