His Winter Rose and Apple Blossom Bride (7 page)

He was spared an answer by the arrival of their food. Piper wasn’t sure she could eat anything. Waiting for his response was like sitting on pins and needles.

“Smells great.” He bowed his head for a moment. Piper followed suit, said a quick plea for help. Then Jason picked up his fork, then glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, it does.” If he wanted to play it cool, she’d follow along.

“I like the ideas you’ve proposed,” Jason said five minutes later. “There’s a real diversity that will mean people want to keep coming back. But I’m somewhat concerned that you’ve contacted so many people without running this by me first.”

“But you knew the basic idea,” she said, stunned by his objection. “I showed it to you that first morning.”

“This sounds much bigger than we first thought.”

“That’s the nature of tourism. It grows and changes.” She sipped her water and tried to think of this from his perspective. “Some things that we try this year won’t work the way we expect and we’ll have to revise plans, even change midstream sometimes.”

He nodded but she could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“Is there something specific that bothers you?”

He lifted his head, stared at her. “Do I sound critical? I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s all a little overwhelming.”

Piper nodded. “That’s because I’m trying to get the ball rolling without the six to twelve months of prep work that should have gone before. We don’t have time to lose if we want to see results this year.” She fiddled with her napkin absently. “That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

He nodded. She continued.

“It’s going to be hectic, but it’s doable. Don’t worry about details right now. It’s more important to get the big picture in place. Once we’ve got things nailed down, once we know exactly what we can handle this year, who will sponsor what and how we’ll handle whoever comes to town, that’s the time to start getting the details in sync.”

“But some of those details are going to affect what we can do this year. For instance, a hotel. We have a couple of motels, an RV park and a number of campsites, but we just can’t handle the influx of people you’re talking about without a major hotel developer.”

“Yes, we do need more accommodation. But I doubt anyone can get a hotel built and operational before summer so we won’t have to concentrate on that just yet.”

“But that’s the thing,” he insisted, laying down his fork to accentuate his point. “Building a hotel takes time. I want to recruit a company who can provide the kind of amenities we’re asking for quickly.”

“Once Serenity Bay takes off, there will be any number of prospective developers knocking down your door. But most of them want to see some of the potential first. I’m sure you know that from your work at Expectations.” One glance at his face had Piper wishing she hadn’t said that. “There are lots of hotel builders, Jason.” She heard a wariness creep into her own voice and paused. He didn’t need to know her worst nightmare.

“There are. But I don’t want just anyone. If we show them your plans, perhaps we can lure one here.” Jason reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a paper. “I drew up a list of those I think would do a good job for us.”

Piper took the list out, read the first name and swallowed.

“I think we can cross off Wainwright,” she murmured.

“But they are my first choice.” Jason was clearly not pleased by her comment. “They’ve done lots of developing, they know how to make a project take off, they’ve got enough resources behind them to keep their commitments.”

“They’ve also had trouble on several projects recently,” she told him, remembering what Rowena had said about the London undertaking. “I don’t want us to get tied up with a company that’s dealing with serious legal issues elsewhere.”

“Who are you suggesting, then?” he demanded, his gaze narrowed.

“I’m still checking into that. Ida mentioned a couple of local people who may be interested.”

“Locals?” Jason’s forehead furrowed. “I was hoping for someone with enough resources to make a big impact. I’m not sure a small local venture is—”

“It might be exactly what we want. The personal touch and all that. Besides,” she reminded him, “we can hardly turn away their request for development. We don’t want to be guilty of bias. The friendly, small-town aura a local would offer could be an asset, don’t you think? Wainwright is known for their big, expensive hotels. Intimidating to some.”

He didn’t look convinced.

Piper changed the subject and by the time the meal was finished, Jason had completely forgotten about Wainwright—she hoped. She insisted on paying for his meal. After all, he’d listened to her ideas. She could tell Jason wasn’t happy about that situation, either.

“I’ll agree, as long as you let me buy next time.”

“Agreed. Thank you.” So there’d be a next time? Piper checked her watch. “I’d better head home. I’ve got a lot of notes to make. I don’t want to forget anything we’ve discussed.”

“You really get caught up in a project, don’t you?” he asked, head inclined to one side.

“What can I say?” She grinned, spread her hands. “I love my job.”

He walked her to
Shalimar,
waited while she stowed her briefcase. But the engine wouldn’t start.

“That’s odd. It was working well this morning.”

“I didn’t notice you sailing over,” he murmured.

“You were probably still sleeping. I was in a bit of a hurry to get to work.” Casting all your cares on Him for He cares for you. It was a promise of God’s and yet she couldn’t just leave her father to Him, could she? She had to stop Wainwright cold—before Baron got a foot in the door. She pushed the start button again. Nothing. “I wonder what’s wrong.”

“Can I take a look?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Truthfully?” He waited for her nod, then climbed aboard. “I’ve wanted to check this baby out since the first day I saw her.”

She unlocked the door to below, waved a hand, then chuckled at the speed he used to uncover and display the motor.

“I never would have guessed you were interested in her. Well?”

“When and where did you last fuel up?” he asked after tinkering a few moments. He touched a spot of something, rubbed two fingers together.

“Yesterday. At home.” She saw tiny bits of grit on his fingertips. “What’s that?”

“If I was guessing, I’d say sugar. Or salt. Whichever, it’s going to have to be cleaned out. Thoroughly. You can’t go home in her tonight for sure.”

“How would salt or sugar get in my gas?”

Jason held her gaze, his own open, thoughtful.

“Someone put it there.”

“Someone...?”

He shrugged. “I doubt it happened here. Andy or someone would have noticed.” He checked the lock on the boat’s entry door to below. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s tampered with this. Maybe it’s your tank at home.”

“The whole tank?” She stared at him. “I just had it filled.”

“Do you keep it locked up?”

“Of course. In fact, it’s inside the boat shed. You have to have a key to get inside. Besides, I did cross the bay this morning. Could I have done that if it had been in the tank from Cathcart House?”

“No,” he admitted with a frown.

Piper didn’t like where this was leading. First someone had been in the house. Now her fuel had been sabotaged. She’d have to call the police again.

“Do you want me to run you home?” Jason closed up the motor and replaced the door, sealing it from the rest of the boat. “It’s no problem.”

“That’s kind of you. But I have my car. I’ll drive.” She dug through her bag for her car keys. “Would you be able to fix the motor, maybe tomorrow? I’ve really begun to enjoy those trips across the water.”

“Sure.” He held out his hand for her to grasp, waited till she’d stepped on the dock, then accepted the key for the boat after she’d locked up. “I’ll get at it tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks.” His hand still held hers and Piper decided she liked it. Part of her wanted to keep her hand in his but the other part told her to act like a businesswoman. So she drew her fingers away. “Let me know when it’s ready.”

“I will.” Jason’s gaze held hers. An odd light glinted in his blue-grey eyes. “Drive carefully,” he murmured.

“Uh-huh.” Feeling utterly self-conscious, Piper walked across the lot to her car, unlocked it and stepped inside. She adjusted the rearview mirror, saw Jason had remained where she’d left him.

Calling herself a fool, she shifted into First and pulled away, but couldn’t help fluttering her fingers in a last wave. Jason remained where he was.

Watching.

Piper drove the switchback road as twilight fell on the greening hills. As she gained the last crest, a small deer bobbed out from the bushes forcing her to slam on the brakes. Startled and slightly unsettled, she paused to draw a deep breath and settle her nerves before moving on.

Below her, Cathcart House lay nestled into the crook of the hill. The yard lights switched on as she watched, illuminating the budding rose garden her grandmother had coaxed to beauty each summer. Piper was ready to employ the lessons she’d learned to woo the biggest blooms from those bushes.

Her hand touched the gearshift just as Piper glimpsed a shadow by the hot tub move. Her breath caught in her throat as the figure lifted the lid, dumped something inside, then set the lid back in place. A moment later the intruder slipped into the darkened woods leaving no trace of a visit.

Call the police? Or check out the tub first? If it was nothing, just a nosy neighbor, she’d rather find that out for herself.

But a neighbour would have asked to use the tub first.

Piper sat in her car trying to imagine who would sneak into her yard. It had to be the kids from Lookout Point.

She put the car in gear and slowly glided down the hill.

“I’m an idiot, God. It’s gotten so I suspect everyone. I want to get over that but with Dad—it’s hard. Please help me.”

She pulled into the yard. The place looked the same as she’d left it this morning.

Piper unlocked the door, carried her things inside, then moved to the deck. With a flick of a switch the entire area was illuminated.

No one.

“I need to soak in that tub and do some serious praying,” she muttered.

She lifted the cover of the tub to turn on the jets and immediately stepped backward as a pungent odor filled the air.

Just then she heard a rustle behind her.

“You can come out now, Dad. And you can quit playing these silly games. It doesn’t matter what you do. I’m not leaving Serenity Bay.”

Piper waited for Baron to slip out from the shadows. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Jason.

Chapter Five

“W
hat are you doing here?” Piper asked, her voice ragged, harsh-sounding in the quiet of the forest surrounding them. The tremble of her voice bothered him.

“After you left, I spotted some unusual lights flashing over here. At first I was going to ignore them, but then I thought about the salt in your tank and decided to check things out. Didn’t you hear my boat?”

“No. I didn’t hear anything.” She sounded odd—confused as she glanced around as if searching for something—or someone.

“What happened?” He took her arm, guided her toward a chair and when she was seated, squatted in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

He raised an eyebrow, glanced at her fingers clenching the side of the chair. “Call me intuitive?”

She made a face, then explained about the shadow and the excess chlorine. He noticed the strong odor as well.

“If you breathe in too much of the fumes they can do damage,” she whispered. “Not to mention the effect on the skin.”

He watched as she opened the small door of a niche, pulled out a plastic box which held various chemical bottles. She chose a pack of test strips, threw open the lid and when the cloud of steam disappeared, dipped one strip into the water.

Then she compared the dark navy square with the normal shade on the bottle.

“Way too much.”

He noted absently how the tub seemed to fit into the deck, as if it had been built when the original house had been erected, though given the age of the house, that wasn’t likely. “Do you keep the chlorine out here?”

She shook her head. “Never.”

“So they brought their own. Nice of them to think of it since they’re using your tub.” In Jason’s opinion, Piper was too pale. “I’m going to call Bud Neely, ask him to take a look.”

“There’s nothing the police chief can do.” She put the test strips into the box, returned the kit to its storage place.

“You don’t know that.” Something about her body language, the way she looked at him, pricked his curiosity. “Do you?”

He could hardly believe what he saw register on her face.

“You saw someone—a prowler’s been out here before?”

“Yes. A couple of times, I think.”

“When?” He thought a minute. “The night I brought you home?” Every hair on his arms stood up. “You mentioned seeing a shadow.”

“Yes. I’ve seen something several times. But it may not be as bad as it sounds. I think my visitors have something to do with Lookout Point,” she told him. “There are always kids going up there to meet each other. Even when I was a teen it was a popular place. I’m sure those were the lights you saw.”

“Maybe. But, Piper, this isn’t just a prank. It’s dangerous. If you hadn’t noticed—” He stopped, hating to finish the thought.

“Not necessarily dangerous,” she amended. “Chlorine is one thing you smell as soon as you open the hot tub lid. After you add it, you’re supposed to leave the tub open to circulate and off-gas. Since the lid was closed immediately, the smell was kept inside. I’m sure I noticed something wasn’t right as soon as I lifted the lid.”

She touched a button on the control panel that soon had the jets whirring. Clouds of steam rose upward. Along with them, the odor of chlorine dissipated into the night air.

“I’m calling Bud anyway. If he can’t come out tonight, he or someone from the department can make a trip tomorrow and check things out.” Jason frowned as he scanned the woods, saw the flicker of lights some distance away. “I don’t think it’s advisable to have Lookout Point open after dark. The terrain’s rugged up here.”

“There’s hardly a reason to have a Lookout Point if you close it after dark,” she murmured. “The lure of the place is the darkness. And the scenery, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

“Teenagers. Moonlight. You can’t have forgotten. You’re not
that
old!” Piper smiled at him, her wide mouth tilted in a teasing grin.

Jason found himself blushing as he wondered what it would be like to go to Lookout Point with Piper. “Watch it,” his brain warned.

“Thank you for your concern,” she said, her voice back to normal. “You came a long way just to make sure. That warrants a reward.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, his brain still busy with thoughts of moonlight and Piper Langley.

“I have some apple pie, if you’re interested. And I could make some tea.”

“You don’t have to.” Jason stopped when she cast a look behind her at the call of an owl. She was still nervous. “But I’d love some pie.”

“Great. Come on inside.” She led the way into the house, turning on lights as she went. “Make yourself comfortable.”

After that first interview, before she’d moved here, whenever he’d thought of Piper, Jason envisioned chrome, glass and glittering stainless steel. Cathcart House was as far from that as the prairies were from Serenity Bay.

Big, comfy chairs and couches lay scattered around a room with vistas on three sides, hidden now by the night. Jason sat down in a leather recliner placed near a fireplace and found it exceedingly comfortable.

“I love this chair,” he told her.

“So did my grandfather. Some of the chintz Gran favored went to the city with them and was later sold off, but that chair had to stay here.”

“You said you stayed with them?” he asked, hoping his curiosity wouldn’t show too much.

“After my mother died. I came here mostly for summers and Christmas. I went to a boarding school the rest of the time.”

That tiny bit of tension in her voice only added to the questions he had about her past, but before he could ask more she was carrying in a big, brown teapot and two chunky mugs to match.

“Can I help?”

“The pie is on the counter. Help yourself.”

He did, then returned to his seat. Once she’d poured the tea he sat back and savored the flavors of cinnamon and cloves he tasted, watching Piper light a fire.

“Did you bake this? It’s great.”

“Nope. Sorry. I went to a bake sale the art guild was having. I wanted to buy something to support them. The pie looked good so I chose it.” She sipped her tea, watching him eat.

“I missed a bake sale?” He frowned. “I never miss bake sales. It’s my one rule.”

“Wow, you’re lucky if you have only one.” She giggled at his dismay. “I think I heard Ida say something about you holding a boating class that day. Don’t feel bad. You can take the rest of it home if you like. I’m not much of a pie eater.” Piper leaned back in the wing chair, her face lit by the flickering fire. “I was thinking about the hotel as I drove home. I have a couple of ideas floating around.”

“Shoot.”

Her head jerked up, her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Go ahead. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

The dark curls bobbed back and forth as she shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?” Jason put his empty plate on the coffee table, picked up his mug. “Is it some kind of secret?”

“No, of course not.” Piper’s attention was on the fire as she spoke. Her words emerged quiet, hesitant. “It’s just...my brain doesn’t work the way you might expect. I don’t have a hard-and-fast schedule or plan. Nothing is concrete. For now they’re just ideas.”

“So?” Something was going on behind those dark eyes, something that made him curious and set a peculiar little nerve to twitching at the back of his neck. As if she was hiding something. “Tell me the ideas.”

“It’s not quite that easy, Jason.” She raked a hand through her curls, tousling them even more. “They’re more like nebulous thoughts, glimmers, if you will. I have to let them mull for a while. I ask myself a question, poke around. Things start to gel and then I can really plough ahead. Do you understand?”

He didn’t. Not really. But he tried to sound supportive. “Why don’t you tell me about your glimmers? Maybe we can brainstorm together.”

Jason watched her closely, saw tinges of red dot her cheeks. He understood her embarrassment; the scoffing of some council members when he’d first presented his plan for the Bay still rankled.

“I’m not going to laugh,” he promised.

Piper studied him as if assessing his truthfulness. After a moment she let out a pent-up breath and began speaking.

“This is purely brainstorming,” she warned.

“I know.”

“Serenity Bay is such a perfect name for this place,” she murmured. “I mean, think about it. That word conjures up peace, relaxation, no worries—all the things you want a vacation spot to be. But it has to work for everybody. Moms, dads, kids, seniors, young people, rich, not so rich.”

“Yes,” he agreed, liking what he’d heard so far. Where was this going?

“The beach will take care of a lot of the kids’ entertainment. Then, of course, there’s the miniature golf course and I expect other venues will pop up as time passes.”

“But.” He knew he heard it in there somewhere.

“But I got dreaming about a real golf course. Is it feasible? Could the town chip in enough land or perks, something that would make it attractive for a developer to put in his hotel, include a pool, a couple of conference rooms and maybe nine holes of golf?”

Jason stared. He opened his mouth but she held up a hand when he would have spoken. Her smile held a hint of self-mockery.

“In the beginning I thought, not too luxe. But if a businessman or woman brought their family along, while attending a training seminar in the hotel’s conference rooms—wouldn’t having some nearby links make sense? You know—meet for a round of golf and not feel guilty because the rest of the family are enjoying their own activities. Think about Banff. That’s their draw. The scenery, something for everybody. We have that right here.”

“Wow!” He couldn’t help admiring her ideas.

“I know you think it’s too big, nothing like you were envisioning for a start. And I agree. It’s just one of those ideas that’s been floating around. Still, thinking ahead could save us problems down the road, if we plan carefully.”

He liked the way she included him, as if they were partners in this venture.

“Wainwright Hotels could certainly offer all of that,” he murmured, assessing her reaction.

Piper’s head jerked the tiniest bit. She turned to look at him but her face gave nothing away.

“They could. But right now I doubt they’re in a position to commit to that much development in an untried area. And they have labor problems.” She held out a piece torn from a newspaper detailing the issues. “Look at this. It’s unlikely we’d command their focus at the moment. I’d prefer to look into other options.”

“You keep saying that. Who are these ‘other options’?” he asked. He scanned the report, recognized the facts as those he’d already researched. He set it down, feeling that she was still holding something back.

Then something clicked.

“Piper, is there something you haven’t told me? Some specific reason you don’t want to work with Wainwright?”

She’d been peering at a notepad on the table but now she looked at him directly and blinked. “A reason?”

“Yes.” He felt slightly foolish saying this but if there was a chance... “Have you had some problem working with their team? Because—”

She shook her head, her curls bouncing wildly. “I’ve already told you my reasons. I don’t think Wainwright is a good fit for Serenity Bay.”

“Why?”

Piper fixed him with a hard look.

“This will probably sound sentimental and rather silly but this place was a haven for me. I found so much joy in Serenity Bay that I’m not sure I would have found elsewhere. I’d like to think I was passing it on.” She tilted her head. “I feel like I’ve been given a kind of trust to help develop the Bay. That carries a certain responsibility. I don’t want to ruin this beauty by allowing commercialism to overtake what God made. Do you understand?”

He nodded, feeling a hint of admiration.

“I understand very well. I think that’s one of the reasons I tried so hard to interest you in the job. It’s a goal we share.” He kept his focus on her. “I’ve noticed that whatever you do, a certain flair, a special touch or attention to detail shines through. I think that’s what makes each of your projects stand out from the others. You really care about the result. It’s not just about money for you.”

“No, it isn’t. I think the same is true for you.”

He nodded.

Their eyes met and held. A tiny flicker of current ran between them. Jason watched her moisten her lips, saw the way the fire caught the red undertones in her dark hair. Inside, a tiny ivy of interest sent down another root of interest and sprouted.

Piper could be trusted to help him accomplish this dream. Couldn’t she?

She tried to hide her yawn but couldn’t quite bring it off. Jason rose, carried his cup and plate to the sink.

“I’ll go. You’ve got to be tired after such a long day.”

“Thank you for coming to check up on me.” She walked him to the door. “It wasn’t necessary, but I do appreciate it.”

They stepped outside into a spring fairyland. Her grandmother’s lights twinkled in a misty breeze from the bay.

“I should have noticed the time sooner. I don’t want you to get lost in the fog.” She walked with him down to the jetty, pausing while he untied his boat. “Will you phone me when you get home so I don’t worry that you’re lost out there somewhere?”

Surprise ran through him. It had been a long time since anyone cared enough to ensure he got home safely.

“I’ll call,” he promised softly. Jason reached for her hand, held it lightly. “Thank you for an interesting evening. Whenever I talk to you I always come away thinking of more possibilities for the Bay.”

“That’s why you hired me, isn’t it?” She chuckled, using the cover of her laughter to draw her hand away.

He didn’t miss her reticence, but he didn’t comment on it, either. Instead he climbed into his boat, started the engine and waved.

“I enjoyed the pie, too,” he called. “Good night.”

As he headed across the bay, Jason glanced back once. A single light illuminated Piper still standing at the end of the dock, facing into the breeze.

Then she quickly moved uphill and soon disappeared from sight. He revved the engine and headed home.