“How’d the tour of the lodge go?” Ethan asked.
“Hi, Ethan. I’m fine. How are you?” Parker muttered. “The tour went fine if you like a cold, sterile, too slick and packaged environment.”
“I’m sure we could make it work. Jenna liked what they’d offered on the phone.”
“And you sent me to check the place out and make a decision. I decided it won’t work for us.”
“Fine,” Ethan bit out. “What options do we have then?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’ll do some research when I get back.” He glanced out the window in the family room, where he’d retreated to in order to take the call. The sun shone on the green grass, and in the distance, snowcapped mountains dotted the horizon. Colorado was a gorgeous place.
“When are you home?” Ethan asked.
“My rental broke down so I’m stranded for a day or so. I’ll get in touch when I’m back in Denver.” And before his brother could rant or argue, Parker disconnected the call.
Broken-down rental or not, he had no intention of rushing home any time soon.
* * *
Emily drove into town in her car, an old Jeep she’d bought when she moved back home. She delivered her baked goods to Harper and stayed for a cup of coffee with her friend. Her shop was a gathering place in town, had a regular breakfast crowd, and Emily knew everyone by name and the same in return. Harper had hung bright-colored pictures of cups and mugs on the wooden walls, and around the shop were shelves of homemade items created by local artisans that were for sale. One of the ways this town thrived was by friends helping and supporting each other.
After the morning rush ended, Harper carried two lattes over to the table where Emily sat waiting and joined her. “Whew. That was crazy. But your muffins are gone. The banana ones sell like hotcakes. Bake some more for tomorrow?”
“You got it.” Emily loved that people enjoyed her muffins, bread, cookies, and cakes, things she loved making so much more than the perfect petit fours she’d been forced to craft working at the high-end pastry shop in Chicago. She was a small-town girl at heart and she liked what she liked.
Too bad she hadn’t listened to her own needs when she’d been with Rex, who, despite the fact that she was baking for a living when he met her, encouraged her to make better use of her culinary background than working for an Italian bakery owned by a husband-and-wife team. In truth, he wanted to be able to say his wife was a pastry chef, not a baker. Why had he gotten involved with her in the first place? Because he liked molding women into the dutiful female who made him her sole focus to the exclusion of everything and everyone else that made her who she was.
“Have you given any thought to going into partnership with me?” Harper asked. “The space next door is still empty and we could enlarge the shop, put in a kitchen where you could bake without having to take over the counters and oven at the inn. It would really be awesome, don’t you think?”
Her heart began beating harder in her chest. Had she given it thought? Yes. A lot. Did she think she could abandon her father and the inn to do it? No. Besides, what made her think the bank would give her a loan? She was on the verge of divorce with very little to her name.
“God, Harper. I’d love to but I have to worry about my dad and the inn. If he closes it down and moves to Florida with my sister, then I can think about my own dreams.”
“You know, having the inn booked solid would mean more people shopping in town. A rotating group of people coming in on a weekly basis. We just need to figure out a way to get the money to do both.”
Emily glanced at her untouched drink. “Dad’s maxed out. He owes so much money, nobody will lend him any to fix up the inn, and as for me, if I go to the bank for a loan, it’s iffy they’ll give me one. And if they do, I need to help my dad.”
Harper sighed. “I understand. I’ll keep thinking. The landlord promised not to rush into anything with another renter until he gives me the opportunity first. Nobody’s come to him as far as I know.”
“Okay,” Emily said, sad because she knew how much expanding meant to Harper. But without Emily’s baking, there was no reason to take over the expense of a larger place or the renovation it would entail.
“So … on another subject, how are things going with your newest guest?” Harper asked.
Her best friend could peg Emily’s type, and the stranger with the beautiful blue eyes and sexy grin was it. Too bad she was over men. Especially the kind she knew were bad for her. Luckily between the fact that he’d turned in early and the heater being out this morning necessitating them all bundling up, she hadn’t had a visual of him without a heavy jacket or sweatshirt. No hint of whatever muscles lay beneath all the clothing.