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“I have money. Not as much as Reed Watson, but enough to cover my third ownership.”
“Who is this Reed person?”
She opened her eyes. “I haven’t met him since he’s away dealing with a family emergency. I do understand he’s a good friend to your grandmother.”
Hunter needed to check up on Reed Watson. “What do you consider elegant?”
She tilted her head, thinking. “Renaissance, Italy. Beautiful gowns, beautiful furniture. Elizabethan England. Regency England. Or maybe art deco, art nouveau. Or maybe Paris in the thirties. Josephine Baker, Langston Hughes, James Baldwin. Imperial Japan was beautiful. I can just see serene gardens and koi ponds like the one in the lobby.” Her eyes went dreamy and far away as she recited her litany of possibilities. “Napoleonic France.” Her face glowed with her ideas.
“These times of incredible beauty were always precursors to incredible disasters and upheavals,” Hunter said. Her enthusiasm was contagious. He just wanted to impress her. Who the hell didn’t want to do that for her?
She opened her eyes and glared at him, her dark eyes shining. “Mr. Russell, I am impressed that you know your history, but you’re ruining my dreams with your knowledge.”
“Hunter. Please call me Hunter. I’m an architect and being practical goes with my job description.” He understood the importance of artistic aesthetics, but they warred with functionality every time. His specialty was the preservation of historic homes. He’d never built a spa before. If he accepted the challenge, he would be spending time with Lydia, getting to know her. He turned over all the possibilities in his mind.
“You smell a challenge,” she said.
“I’m not sure I like that smug look on your face.”
“You’re in. I can tell.”
“I’m thinking.” Hunter didn’t like knowing how easily anyone—especially Lydia—could read him. “Why are you doing this?” Thoughts whirled around in his brain and the idea of a spa started to appeal to him. He would have to do some research, but research was something that came naturally to him.
She was silent for so long he thought she wasn’t going to answer him. Finally, she said, “I don’t want my daughter to grow up like me.”
She surprised him with her honesty. He definitely wanted to know more. What had happened in her childhood to make her want something so different for her daughter? She was an interesting mix of sophistication and naiveté. “What’s wrong with you?”
She took a deep breath. “I was raised to be a...a decoration—first for my parents and then my late husband. If my daughter sees me doing something of value then she will know there is more to life than hosting cocktail parties and rearranging flowers.”
Hunter could think of nothing to say after that statement. He had a feeling not one ounce of fun had been built into her youth.
Maya came running back into the living room. Miss E. followed at a more sedate pace. “Momma, Miss E. and I were talking about horses. She thinks I should have one.”
Lydia gave Miss E. a long, thoughtful look. “She does, does she?”
Maya nodded enthusiastically, hands clasped in front of her, eyes pleading. “Can I have a horse, please, so I can ride with my prince?”
Hunter forced himself not to smile. Miss E. was at it again. His grandmother was the pied piper.
“Every young girl should know how to control a huge beast like a horse so she can learn how to control the two-legged kind.”
Hunter gave his grandmother a sharp look. “Is that how you learned?”
“My daddy raised bird dogs and I grew up with horses so I learned at a young age about horses and dogs and later on, children.”
“You raised us like we were puppies?”
“And look how you turned out. I should write a book.” Miss E.’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Raising your children to bark on command.”
Lydia burst out laughing. “At one time I wanted to take horseback riding lessons myself.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She sighed. “My parents didn’t consider it an acceptable sport for a proper young lady.”
Now that was sad. His parents and later his grandmother indulged all of them in their interests. He was beginning to dislike Lydia’s parents. “What are you going to tell her?” He gestured at Maya.
Lydia hugged her daughter. “I’ll consider it.”
Miss E. leaned over Hunter and whispered, “She’s in.”
As if Hunter didn’t already know that. Frankly, so was he. He was just going to make them work a bit harder for it.
Maya leaned against her mother’s knee, her eyes pleading. “Please, please, please.”
“I said I’d consider it. Horses bite.” Lydia brushed a few flyaway tendrils of her daughter’s dark hair away from her face.
“We’ll find one that doesn’t bite,” Miss E. said, a note of finality in her tone.
Oh, yeah, Maya was getting a horse. And he was getting a new job...at least for a while. He would have to call his partner and arrange for him to take over his clients. He needed to call his assistant and let her know. A list formed in his mind. The logistics of what he was about to do made him wonder if he was the one who was insane.
* * *
Lydia didn’t realize how bored she’d been with her life until she met Miss E. Miss E. lived a life Lydia could only dream about. She’d lived on her luck and her wits while raising her grandchildren. She’d taken risks, never knowing if she would win or lose, while shaping her own destiny. If Lydia didn’t know any better, she might have been jealous. Lydia wasn’t very comfortable knowing that about herself. Jealousy was bad. Jealousy was a sin. She had heard that often enough from the pulpit of the Baptist church her parents attended.
Lydia grinned at her daughter flying through the suite, putting her clothes away. Lydia had wanted a pony, too, but her parents had enrolled her in ballet in order to learn to be graceful and fluid. Yes, she had learned gracefulness, but also how to appreciate music and be resilient, how to balance and develop her eye-hand coordination. She had loved ballet as a child, but she’d really wanted a horse, just like Maya.
“Your son is very forceful,” Lydia said to Miss E. after Hunter left. And handsome. She was glad he was gone because he made her feel...she wasn’t sure what. But whatever it was left her uncomfortable because for a brief second her gaze had settled on his lips and she’d wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. Miss E. laughed. “He’s the oldest and thinks he’s expected to act in such a manner. Underneath he’s a pussycat.” Miss E. paused in the act of zipping up a suitcase. “You’re not going to let him scare you because he thinks I’m eccentric, are you?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who has all their marbles like you do.” Everybody who had sat down at that poker table had been at least thirty years younger than Miss E., and she’d outwitted them all. “You are living, breathing proof that experience is the most valuable asset.”
“An asset you need to develop.”
“I’m nothing compared to you,” Lydia said almost ashamedly.
“You have skills I will never have. I sat down at the table with a bunch of men who knew my reputation and knew not to underestimate me, but you, with your beautiful face, charming manner and soft voice—no one looks at you and thinks that underneath you have a will of steel.”
“I don’t have that,” Lydia objected, thinking of all the times she’d obediently followed her mother’s orders just to be nice.
“You underestimate yourself. The second the door on your gilded cage was unlocked, you flew away.”
“I had no plan.” Running away from New Orleans had been impulsive and possibly silly. She’d done so anyway because she couldn’t stand the feeling of being cloistered, of being locked up.
“Yes, you did. You snatched your daughter and fled. You waited until you found someone...me...who would help you. You didn’t just walk into my poker school to learn to play poker for fun. You needed a skill. You needed to learn how to outwit people with what you think you don’t have.”
Lydia stared in astonishment at Miss E. If anything else, learning to play poker had taught her to keep her cards close to her vest and learn strategy. “How did you know that about me? I didn’t even know that about me.”
“I watched you watching people. In the three months you’ve been here, you’ve become a better poker player than ninety percent of the people I’ve ever taught. That’s because they were playing for fun and you weren’t. They wanted to win money and you wanted to win respect. I know you like it when people underestimate you.”
Lydia stared into the older woman’s shrewd eyes, frowning. “I’m not that good at poker.”
Miss E. simply smiled. “You don’t play cards, you play the cards, you play the people. You manipulate them by your actions. Do you know how many tournaments I’ve won and never even looked at my cards?”
“Miss Eleanor, you make me sound so manipulative.” But wasn’t she? she asked herself. How often had her husband brought home some little piece of jewelry because she admired it and had manipulated him into purchasing it? Once he bought her a brand new Lexus because she’d complained about the Cadillac. And she’d managed to keep Maya out of the prestigious boarding school Mitchell thought would be good for her by batting her eyes and telling him how much Maya was an asset for his business. All because he made profitable contacts through Maya’s friends in the fancy private school she attended. She didn’t care about his business as much as she wanted to keep Maya home with her. She had used Mitchell’s ego to get what she’d wanted. He’d given in because he adored Maya and deep down inside wanted to keep her home, too.
“You’re a beautiful, fragile woman and your ability to manipulate is your greatest weapon. You keep letting people underestimate you, because when you knock them on their butt, they are still not going to get it. And mark my words, you’re going to knock Hunter on his butt and I’m going to enjoy watching you.”
Lydia sat down on the sofa and let her thoughts wander. “Thinking back, I believe you might be right.” Unfortunately her actions reminded her of her mother and made her uncomfortable. Caroline Fairchild had gotten what she wanted the very same way Lydia had. Lydia wanted to change that part of herself.
“You fascinate me, my dear. I read you five minutes after we met.” Miss E. opened the closet door and hung up Maya’s dresses. Maya had retreated to a corner of the bedroom with her dolls, and sat on the floor playing quietly.
Lydia ran over in her mind why she’d come to Reno when she could have gone anywhere. She had more money than she could spend in a thousand lifetimes. She had global contacts and time.
Maybe Hunter had figured her out. Reno was as different as she could get. No one would think to look for her here. At least not for a while. And from the frantic phone messages left by her two stepsons, they were definitely looking for her. She kept her phone turned off most of the time because she didn’t want David and Leon to find her anytime soon. Eventually, they’d hire someone to track her down. And she would be ready for them, digging in her heels and making a life for herself in Reno despite any objections they would have.
She heard Miss E. laughing with Maya, which turned Lydia’s thoughts to Hunter Russell. He was a handsome man with his lean face and muscular body. His brown eyes had been as shrewd and sharp as his grandmother’s. Yet, he made her uncomfortable. Unlike Mitchell, who had been thirty-five years older than her. Mitchell had been a quiet, almost comfortable man. He’d asked little of her except to look pretty on his arm, to be gracious to his friends and to make his life comfortable. She had rather liked Mitchell even though he’d been her parents’ choice and not hers. Her marriage had not been the exciting relationship she had dreamed of, but it had been fruitful. Mitchell had given her Maya and for that she would always be thankful.
He’d asked Lydia if he could name the child after his mother and she’d agreed because she thought the name was so beautiful. She always suspected he’d been more of father to Maya than to his other two children.
She’d done everything Mitchell asked despite her dislike of his two grown sons from his first marriage. Leon and David Montgomery had hated her from the moment they’d met her. She’d been twenty-one and barely out of college when she’d married Mitchell. Leon and David had been in their early thirties. Leon was the consummate playboy, with two illegitimate children whose mothers had to sue him for child support, while David married every stripper he’d ever met. Crippled beneath the mountain of alimony David had to pay out every month, Lydia had the idea he’d been almost delighted when Mitchell had died until the will had been read and he’d discovered Maya had inherited most of the money and the businesses, with Lydia as the executer.
“I think we’re mostly done with the unpacking,” Miss E. said a moment later. She closed the last suitcase and zipped it. “I’ll just call the front desk and have them send someone up to collect the luggage and put it in storage.”
“Thank you.” Lydia nodded absently. “What about you? Have you decided on which suite you’re going to use?”
“I’m staying in my RV for the time being,” Miss E. answered. “I’ve lived in that RV for ten years. I’m not quite ready to give it up.” Her RV was parked in a side lot and plugged into the hotel’s electric grid. Lydia had never been in an RV before until she’d met Miss E. and she had found it to be quite comfortable if a bit cramped. She’d even considered buying her own, learning to drive it and then taking Maya all over the country to see all the wonderful places Lydia had always wanted to see. “So what happens next?”
Miss E. and Lydia went into the living room to sit down in chairs that faced each other, leaving Maya to play in her bedroom.
Miss E.’s face was thoughtful. “Reed and I have discussed letting you take over building the spa with Hunter while we take over the casino upgrades. Jasper is going to act as our consultant.”
“Do you know when Reed will be coming?”
“I don’t know. He said his father is doing better, but he’s going to be in the hospital for a couple more weeks and his mother isn’t handling it well,” Miss E. said.
“How does a computer geek decide he wants to own a casino?” Lydia wondered. Reed Watson had been a computer nerd of the highest degree, starting his social media company in his bedroom while still in high school and then selling it ten years later for 2.9 billion dollars.
Miss E. shrugged. “It was on his bucket list. He has the most extensive bucket list for such a young man who’s barely thirty.”
Lydia laughed. “I hate to say anything bad, but I hope he doesn’t kick the bucket before we’re done.”
Miss E. laughed with her. After she left, Lydia found a pad of paper in the desk in her bedroom and sat down to put together her list of ideas for the spa.
Chapter 2
Hunter appropriated an empty office and tried not to look at the velvet paintings hanging on the wall. One was of dogs playing poker. Another was of Elvis. And the third was of a deer with a target drawn around it. Hunter couldn’t identify the significance of any of the paintings—except for the one of the dogs. He sort of liked the one of a young Elvis, microphone in hand, hips gyrating. He left it hanging, and took the others down, stacking them in a corner facing the wall.
The desk was a little rickety, but a matchbook under one leg steadied it. Across the scarred wooden top, he’d spread out the original blueprints for the hotel. Casa de Mariposa had been built in the late seventies just as Reno really started to grow. The best materials had been used. At least he had something to work with and the builder hadn’t used cheap materials.
A knock sounded on the door and he called the person in. Lydia opened the door and smiled at him. “Do you have a moment?”
He felt a tiny thrill at the sight of her. Since he’d met her yesterday, the image of her delicate face had hovered around the edges of his thoughts. He’d been so fixated on his career for the past ten years, he’d put love and marriage on the back burner. He dated, but avoided serious relationships. “What can I do for you?”
She stepped into the room and looked around. “Now that I’ve had a day to look this place over,” she said, “it’s...it’s so...overwhelming.”
Hunter grinned. “I know.”
“Did you know there is a mechanical bull in the Ranchero lounge and...” Words seemed to fail her. “Apparently, Jasper liked to ride it.”
“I rode one once,” Hunter admitted.
Her eyes went wide. “You?”
“Not one of my prouder moments. A friend was getting married and he and his girl had their rehearsal dinner at a country western place and somehow I got shamed into trying one.” He’d stayed on the mechanical bull a total of three seconds.
“Was alcohol involved?”
“Do I look like the type of man who would get on a mechanical bull clear-headed?”
She tilted her head, squinting her eyes. “You look like the type of man who should be able to hold his liquor and act sensibly.”
His grin widened. “That was a nice way to say I was an idiot.”
“I pride myself on my tact.”
He laughed and after a second’s hesitation she laughed, too. She was so pretty, but had a serious look in her dark brown eyes. She needed to laugh more. She seemed so reined in, as though she always had to behave in a manner appropriate to someone else’s dictates. He wondered what her husband had been like. Miss E. had given him a little background about her over dinner last night. He thought arranged marriages were a thing of the past. He wondered if she’d been happy. Whatever her husband had been like, he appeared to have taken good care or her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked looking nervous.
“You must have an interesting story.”
“Hardly.” Her tone was dry and slightly sarcastic, letting him know her background was off limits.
“You underestimate yourself.” Today she wore a flowered yellow and blue silk blouse and dark blue silk pants and matching blue shoes with little heels. She’d knotted a yellow scarf about her neck. A gold pendant showed in the hollow of her throat.
Hunter felt underdressed in jeans and a knit pullover. One knee had a frayed hole just starting and the pullover had a small smear of dirt on it from his rummaging around a storage room looking for the blueprints. He could have gotten them at the building department, but that would have taken time.
“I thought we could take a look at the area around the hot springs and think about the spa,” she said.
“Did you see this place before Miss E. won it?”
“Yes, the poker game was held here,” she replied. “I loved it from the moment I walked in. As overpowering as the hotel is in some ways, there is a real beauty here, but a lot of the heavy Spanish decor hides it. My fingers itch to start making changes.”
“Why a spa?”
She looked down, her face showing uncertainty. “There are a lot of wealthy women in Tahoe, Sacramento and San Francisco who want first-rate mani-pedis and massages. They choose the places they want to visit based on the spa facilities. If we have a first-rate spa, we’ll be able to attract those women.”
“Then let’s take a look.”
