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I stare at her. My mom sometimes lives in a dream world, populated by dozens of grandchildren. Since my brother Spencer and I are both still single, she has to stay in her dream world to enjoy the grandkids. “I’m afraid I’ve exhausted my resources in Tumbleweed, Mom.”
She brightens. “Is that why you’re leaving? Do you know something I don’t?” That’s where I get my positive nature. Mom never loses hope that my perfect soul mate lurks right around the next corner.
The vision of Mitch Windsor hits me then quickly fades. “Nope. No man on the horizon. I’m simply spreading my wings.” I fling my arms open wide and twirl once, causing my hair to lift with the breeze and my dangly earrings to dance.
Mom chuckles in spite of herself, yet concern shadows her face. I sit on the bed beside her and grab her hand. “Look, Mom, I’ve enjoyed being a teacher up to now, but honestly, I went into teaching because you and Dad wanted me to. It’s not really what I want to do.”
She hikes her nose a bit. “Well, education has provided a good living for our family.”
“Oh, I know,” I jump in eagerly. “And I’m thankful for that. I really am.” I try to ease into the next comment. “Only I’m not convinced it’s what I’m supposed to do with my life.”
“But a cook in a ski lodge, Gwen? I should think you got your fill of cooking for a crowd working down at the Oasis Restaurant. I never understood why you used up your weekends working there. No wonder you’ve never found Mr. Right. You haven’t had the time. And what about your college training?”
I know Mom’s emotions are bouncing around the same as mine. We don’t know whether to be excited about the future or cry about the past.
“It’s not wasted. Education is never wasted,” I say, parroting her familiar words. I get up, close the bulging box and pull packing tape across the top, sealing it shut. “I’ll be doing something I truly enjoy.” I smile.
Mom quirks an eyebrow. “We should have sent you to a three-month cooking school. It would have saved us some money.”
My bubble refuses to burst. “I promise I’ll make you proud, Mom.” Maybe I shouldn’t go that far, but, well, I’m beginning to feel good about this decision. It feels right. “Candace has gone out of her way to get me this job with her brother. He’s trying something new. I’m trying something new. This is a good thing.”
Mom keeps staring a hole through me with those dark eyes. “I think Herbert likes you, Gwen,” Mom says, making a last-ditch effort to keep me here.
I cringe at her reference to the owner of Tumbleweed’s only bookstore. Herbert Caudell is thirty-nine years old, wears polyester pants and lives with his mother. I hold my breath. Wait. I’m thirty-two, and I live with my mother. That thought rocks my world for a moment. But I don’t do polyester. I release my breath.
My pet iguana leaves his habitat and saunters onto the bed. Mom shoots straight up to a standing position and turns to him with a frown. “Well, he’s one thing I won’t miss.”
Guacamole and I ignore her comment. I scoop him into my arms and rub his belly. I admit maybe owning a pet iguana is a little eccentric. When my brother presented Guacamole as a birthday gift to me four years ago, I had no idea what I would do with him. As we all know, an iguana is hardly the party animal. A white toy poodle dressed in pink bows and coats? Party animal. An iguana? No.
Still, I decided to make the most of it. He was a gift, after all. And green is one of my favorite colors. Besides, Guacamole’s color reminds me of a dip, and, of course, where does one find dips? At parties. Once that realization hit me, Guacamole and I became fast friends.
Mom purses her lips together and heads for my bedroom door. “I’ve made you a lunch for your trip. Now you be sure and call us along the way so we know you’re all right. I hate it that you’re taking a loaded car by yourself. Everyone will know you’re moving, and you’re traveling alone.”
“I’m taking clothes. We still have to see if this is going to work out before I move everything else.”
My mom has always been a worrywart. That’s another of our differences. I don’t allow life’s circumstances to get me all upset—well, most of the time I don’t. I usually roll with the punches. Life is meant to be savored.
“I will call if I get into trouble, Mom. I promise.”
“Well, before you go, your father and I have something to give you.”
I look at Mom with surprise while she steps out of my room. I can’t imagine what she’s got up her sleeve. Probably a directory of eligible bachelors in Bliss Village.
Guacamole gets restless with my holding him, and he goes into his full-body alligator roll.
“If you don’t want me to hold you, why don’t you just say so?” I complain, watching Guacamole walk across the bed to a sunlit spot where he can do his usual basking. Oh, to have such a life.
I smooth the wrinkles on my bed where Mom had been sitting and wait on her return. She stumbles into my room, and I can’t believe my eyes. There she stands with a broad smile on her face and a brand-new pair of top-of-the-line skis in one hand, a set of poles in the other.
“Just in case you decide to have some fun while you’re there,” Mom says. “I hear you can’t go to Bliss Village without skis.”
I take a hard look at the skis and wonder what I was thinking when I agreed to this.
Chapter Two
“Candace, I didn’t know you would be here,” I say as I stumble inside the Windsor Mountain B&B and Ski Resort with two suitcases.
“Here, let me help you.” She holds the door, then once I’m inside, she lifts a suitcase from my grasp and puts it on the floor. “I had to finalize the joint venture paperwork with Mitch.”
I drop my suitcase to the floor, brush the snow from my coat, then grab the slight bill on my black-and-red checkered hat and pull it off, along with my black gloves. “I can’t believe I’m here,” I say and turn to give her our customary hug. “Sorry, I’m all wet with snow.” I brush the white flakes from my cap.
“After living here a while, you’ll get used to it. Snow is a fact of life in Bliss Village,” Candace says with a laugh.
Hearing that makes my stomach flip. “I have to admit I’m excited.” I won’t mention the part about not liking cold weather.
“You’re going to love it here, Gwen. I have a feeling it will work out.”
I have to wonder why she’s so into this. Trying to help out a friend, I guess. That’s the way things are between Candace, Lauren and me—we look out for each other.
“Hey, I like your hair cut that way, Gwen,” she says.
I touch my brown hair, momentarily forgetting that I had it cut to shoulder length with some light layering. “Thanks.”
I look around the room with pleasure and take a moment to catch my breath. I smell cinnamon from a nearby flickering candle. I’m thinking this could be a good sign.
“You like it?”
“It’s incredible,” I say, staring at the massive wooden beams, the stone fireplace, the rustic furnishings, spiral staircase, the wooden tables and chairs huddled on one side where, no doubt, breakfast is served. I think the room could use more color, mostly earth tones, but then that’s just me.
Candace’s gaze follows mine. “It is nice. Mitch has done a good job with it.” She turns to me again. “You’re excited—I can see it in your eyes.”
Whether the excitement comes from the new adventure or the possibility of seeing Mitch again, I can’t be sure. I have a suspicion, mind you, but time will tell.
“Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
I pick up my luggage and follow Candace up the stairway to our left.
“Mitch isn’t here. He had to run some errands,” she says over her shoulder, reading my mind. “Your room is right near the stairway.”
We get to the top of the stairs and walk three steps to our left. Candace places my luggage on the floor and opens the door with a key. She shoves the door open, steps back and lets me go in first.
Inside the room is a spacious bathroom, complete with shower, bath and ceramic tile flooring. A cathedral ceiling gives the bedroom a spacious feel. However, even though the room is very nice and simple, it’s, well—beige has exploded all over the place. A king-size bed with a beige quilt hugs one beige wall, with two small stands on either side. An animal skin of some type hangs above it. Double doors from the opposite wall lead to a balcony patio. A small stone fireplace flanks the right wall. A small chair and stand with the telephone sit near the fireplace.
“Very pretty,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment with the beige attack. My world is not the same without bright reds, yellows, greens and blues.
Candace shrugs. “It’s nothing elaborate, but it is kind of cozy.”
Maybe not elaborate color-wise, but everything looks comfortable. Candace’s idea of elaborate and mine are two different things. We come from different worlds.
“Oh, dear, I almost forgot Guacamole. I have to get him from the car.”
Candace smiles and bites her lip. “You know, I forgot to tell Mitch about Guacamole.”
I stop. “Is that a problem?”
She shrugs. “Too late now.”
She doesn’t seem worried about it, so I figure it must be all right. I run down the stairs and out the door. Opening my car, I grab the handle of Guacamole’s travel cage and decide to come back later for my packed boxes. I’m thankful I’ve wrapped a blanket around the bottom, or he’d be mad at me. Same as me, he hates the cold. I take him inside and up the stairs, where Candace is still waiting in my room.
Her eyebrows lift. “So this is Guacamole in the flesh.”
“Yep,” I say like the proud mama I am. “Haven’t you seen him before?”
“Just pictures.” I notice her face doesn’t look all that pleasant as she watches Guacamole shuffle around in his cage. The good news is his green body stands out in the room, and suddenly I’m thankful he’s not a white poodle.
“I think you’ve found the perfect name.” She laughs. “How long have you had him?”
“Guacamole is two years old. Iguanas can live as long as twenty years.”
“Amazing. That takes true commitment.”
I nod. “If I ever get married, the man will have to love Guacamole, too.” I stick my fingers in Guacamole’s cage and rub his tail. “I have a wooden habitat for him—looks similar to open bookshelves, complete with warming lights. But it’s open in the front so he’s free to roam. I hope that’s all right.”
Candace’s eyebrows lift.
I can’t help but laugh at her expression. “Guacamole is litter-trained, so you don’t need to worry about, um, surprises.”
She relaxes. “What does he eat?” she asks, still looking a little worried.
“Bedposts, wooden chairs. Now, he’s not into pine wood. Mainly walnut, cherry, that kind of thing.”
Candace’s eyes grow large as snowballs.
“I’m kidding.” I laugh. Candace’s shoulders relax. “He eats healthier than I do. Staple veggies such as okra, green beans, butternut squash, acorn squash, mustard greens, some fruit occasionally—bananas, berries, peaches, pears, that kind of thing. Pretty much anything in the produce section,” I say with a laugh. “You’re sure your brother won’t mind, right?”
“Oh, yeah, don’t worry about it,” Candace says with a lighthearted tone of voice.
We hear the front door open downstairs.
“I think that’s Mitch.”
My heart blips again. I put Guacamole’s cage near the bed and follow Candace down the stairs. I glance at the banister and wonder for a fleeting second what it would be like to slide down it.
At the sight of Mitch, I struggle to breathe. My teeth stick together as though I’ve got a wad of saltwater taffy in my mouth. His thick, wavy hair is pushed away from his forehead with a bit of gel, and stylish sideburns end where his chiseled jawline begins. There’s not an ounce of fat on his body. The word buff comes to mind. I’m sure he must have been a football star at one time.
He extends his hand. “Hey, Gwen, good to see you again,” he says, flashing a grin.
My teeth are still stuck together, so I merely smile and shake his hand. He looks at me kind of funny, and I realize I’m still grasping his hand. I reluctantly give it back to him. Killjoy.
We step away from the door so he can get through, though I’m very tempted to stay put so he has to move me himself. My teeth start to hurt, and I pry them apart.
Mitch steps into the great room, and we follow him.
“So you got everything taken care of at the bank?” Candace asks.
He nods. “I think we’re almost ready for opening day.” He casts a quick glance my way. “We do have one glitch, though.”
I cast my prettiest smile and wonder what that could possibly have to do with me.
“Granny is coming tomorrow,” he says to Candace.
Their eyes lock. “Granny Windsor?”
Judging by the look on Candace’s face, I’m thinking this can’t be good. Yoo-hoo, anyone want to fill me in here?
“Did she say how long she would be staying?”
“Well, you see, that’s the thing,” Mitch says. “She wanted to come and check out my new place. I told her it would be great to have her here. Then the next thing I knew she decided to be the cook for the B and B. I don’t really know how that happened.”
“That’s Granny for you,” Candace says, shaking her head.
Well, this is embarrassing. I’ve barely moved in, and I’m already laid off—before I cook my first meal. Can’t somebody tell Granny I was here first?
“Mitch, you should have told her you had a cook already.”
Hear, hear, Hunky Boy’s sister wins the prize!
“I know,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. I wish I could do that. “But with Grandpa’s death and all, I think she needs to keep busy.”
“Look, Mitch, your compassionate side sometimes goes against your better judgment. We all have struggles we need to work through. Granny will be all right.”
I suddenly realize I’m eavesdropping on a family matter.
Candace turns to me. “Grandpa died about four months ago, and we’re trying to help Granny through it. But don’t let her fool you, she’s a strong one. We have to watch her. She’s usually up to something.”
“She is ornery, but still I want to do what I can to help her.” Mitch looks at me. “That is, I want to help Granny, but I don’t mean to put you out, either. I was thinking you could run Cool Beanz, the coffeehouse, for us. Provide specialty coffees, Danish rolls, sandwiches and soft drinks, that kind of thing. We won’t be serving real meals, other than breakfast, until the business grows and I can add a restaurant.”
I’m feeling better. At least I still have a job. “Sure, I’d be glad to do that.” I’m hoping this doesn’t mean a decrease in pay. I’m already way under my teaching wage. And this is starting to feel like a game of limbo.
“I’ll still pay you the same. You’ll keep plenty busy. I have someone else lined up to help you, too.” He gives me a reassuring smile, and I notice how even and white his teeth are. His lips are perfect, too. Not collagen-large or paper-thin. I’ve never liked men with thin lips. Just freaks me out to think about it.
“Where is Cool Beanz located?” I ask. I don’t remember seeing a building like that before I came into the B and B.
Mitch plops down on the sofa. “Oh, it’s at the top of the slope.”
His words slash through my happy moment. I fall onto the sofa across from him. Great. The top of the mountain is encircled in a cloud. The thought of being up that high makes me gasp for breath.
“You all right?”
