A Winter Wedding
“I’m a solar manufacturer. You can’t see the plant from here, because of the trees and the rolling hills in between, but if you drive east about half a mile, you’ll reach my factory.”
“No wonder you got here so quickly.”
“I happened to be at the plant taking care of something when you texted me, but my house is even closer.” He frowned as he adjusted the thermostat. It was digital, with an abundance of programs and cycles. Lourdes didn’t understand why a device that could’ve been so simple—and used to be—had been made so complex. Maybe the furnace didn’t work because she’d been messing with the various buttons and screwed something up...
She perched on the arm of the leather sofa in the living room. “Solar must be a thriving business, what with everyone talking about carbon footprint.”
“As time goes by and the price of solar modules comes down, more and more people are making the switch.”
“Then you’re poised for growth.”
“Thanks to various government incentives, it’s been a good field—and it’s getting better.”
If she couldn’t create the kind of album she needed, maybe she could learn enough to open a solar plant. Except she’d be miserable. All she’d ever wanted to do was sing.
She picked up her guitar and ran through a few chords. She used it so much and had used it for so long that it almost felt like a part of her. It was comforting just to have it in her hands. “Does this house have solar? Is that why we have no heat? Because there’s been no sun?”
He chuckled.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing. I had to explain to someone else that— Never mind. Anyway, yes, this place has solar, but it also has a gas furnace. The solar system delivers the electricity. So the air-conditioning, most of the appliances, the sprinkler system and the lights all run off the solar. I could’ve installed a special heating unit, too. But it didn’t seem cost-effective for a rental.”
“Tenants usually pay their own utilities.”
“That’s a consideration for some landlords, yes.” He frowned as he turned to her. “There’s nothing wrong with this thermostat—not that I can tell. I’ll check the unit itself.”
After reclaiming his tools, he went out back while she set her guitar aside and stood at the kitchen window, watching his flashlight bob as he walked. He looked good in those jeans, she thought—then stopped herself. She had no business admiring his backside.
He returned about fifteen minutes later but said he couldn’t find anything wrong with the unit itself, either. He suggested it might not be getting power and tried throwing the circuit breaker.
When that didn’t work, he came back in and, muttering something she couldn’t hear, tried the thermostat again. Only then did he reluctantly admit that he couldn’t fix it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not an HVAC guy, but I can get one out here first thing in the morning. The bad news is that this place won’t get any warmer tonight. So I’ll pay for you to stay at one of the two bed-and-breakfasts in town. They’re both comfortable, and you can have breakfast in bed, which is more than you’ll get if you stay here.”
He was trying to make it as appealing as possible. She was tempted to accept his solution, especially when he gave her a crooked grin that revealed how uncomfortable he felt at having to ask. But she wasn’t interested in staying anywhere else. “I can’t go into town,” she said. “I’d rather not be seen, don’t want to deal with...all that celebrity stuff. I told you before, I’m here to lie low.”
His eyes widened slightly. “I wish I had a better solution, but I don’t. You can’t stay here. It’s too cold, and it’s going to get colder. Maybe you haven’t heard, but we have a huge storm moving in. It’s already snowing.”
Once again, she tightened the belt on her sweater. “I’ve noticed.”
“So, please, will you allow me to put you up somewhere? One of the B and Bs in town? Little Mary’s belongs to a good friend of mine. I’ll call her. If she hasn’t left for the day, she’ll let you in the back way.”
Lourdes really didn’t want to deal with any strangers. She felt bruised and battered by all the setbacks she’d experienced in the past few months. She just wanted to hide out. That was why she’d come here to begin with. She could’ve gone to a motel or a B and B anywhere.
“I’d rather not.”
He seemed at a complete loss. “So...what are you going to do?”
“I’ll be fine here. I’ll...wear my coat and pile on the blankets, get through the night somehow.”
“Are you serious?” he said.
“Yes. I’m serious. I’ll survive.”
A scowl descended. “There’s a real possibility you won’t. In any case, I can’t take that risk. I’d be too worried. And think of all the people who’d be devastated if something happened to you.”
She wondered if that would include Derrick, or if he’d be, on some level at least, relieved that he could pursue Crystal without having to worry about her anymore.
Then she felt guilty for even thinking that. Derrick would never cheat. He said he loved her. They’d been talking about getting married.
But that was before Crystal had come into his life six months ago. Since then, he’d been saying things like, “There’s no need to rush into anything.”
Was that merely a coincidence?
“Would you rather stay closer to where you grew up?” Kyle asked. “I could try to find someplace in Angel’s Camp.”
That definitely wasn’t a solution. Although she longed for the place where she’d been raised, she needed anonymity more. “Absolutely not.”
“You have to go somewhere,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
His scowl darkened. “Yes, you do!”
They stared at each other in a silent contest of wills, until he sighed and jabbed a hand through his hair. “Come on, Ms. Bennett. Help me out. I’m just trying to keep you safe and warm.”
“Fine, Mr. Houseman.” It felt odd to be addressing a contemporary so formally. But he’d set the precedent. “If that’s what you want, I’ll go home with you.”
His mouth fell open. “What’d you say?”
“You told me you live close by. We’ll just...go over to your place until morning. As long as your wife won’t mind letting me sleep on the couch—”
“I don’t have a wife,” he said.
“That makes it even simpler.”
“But...you don’t know me.”
“I hardly think my staying under your roof will provide you with any new opportunities.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re alone right now, aren’t we? Besides, I’m sure you have a key to this place other than the one you gave me, so you could come back at any time.”
“I have a key,” he admitted. “But only in case you lose yours or get locked out or something. I’m not going to hurt you.”
The appalled look on his face lent those words plenty of credibility. “My point exactly. I’ll grab my bag.”
He spoke before she could leave the room. “Staying with me—that’s the solution you’ll accept?”
“If it means I don’t have to see or speak to anyone else, yes.”
“I live alone. I don’t even have a dog because I work so much.”
“See? This will be perfect—well, as perfect as we’re going to get under the circumstances. We don’t have far to go, and your refrigerator’s probably stocked.”
“You’re hungry?”
“I am. And as far as I’m concerned, you owe me dinner for this. So your place sounds like the best solution all around.”
“Okay,” he said, but he looked so stunned she almost laughed as she hurried into the bedroom.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” he called after her. “Practically everything in this house is new. I had the renovation done when the weather was good, so I’ve never tried to turn on the heat. And now I’m convinced the person who installed the furnace didn’t check it thoroughly.”
“I realize this wasn’t your intention.” She closed her suitcase and dragged it out, grateful that she hadn’t completely unpacked.
She found him leaning against one wall with his tools at his feet and his hands jammed in the pockets of his coat. “If you’d feel more comfortable, I could ask one of my female friends to put you up for the night,” he said. “I didn’t offer because...well, I never thought you’d prefer staying in my home to a B and B. But Callie’s married and pregnant and also lives out of town. I bet you’d like her farm.”
“I’m not willing to meet anyone else, so your place will be fine.” She grabbed her guitar; no way would she ever leave that behind. “Let’s go. It’s getting colder by the second. And it might take you some time to work out what you’re going to feed me.”
3
Kyle’s cupboards weren’t filled with the ingredients he felt he needed to make a meal for Lourdes Bennett—or any other woman he would’ve liked to impress. He hadn’t been to the grocery store in over a week, which meant he was down to some condiments, some frozen meat, a few eggs and half a loaf of bread.
As he stared into his refrigerator, trying to figure out what he could make, his unexpected houseguest wandered around his living room. At least the teenage girl he paid to clean his house and offices had come yesterday. He’d never been happier that he’d let Molly Tringette talk him into giving her a part-time job so she could save up for college.
“You must like old houses,” Lourdes said.
Giving up on the fridge, he moved to the pantry. “I do. But it’s not as if I set out to buy any. This place happened to be on the land where I built my plant. Made sense for me to live here.”
“Looks like it’s been recently updated.”
“Yes. I used to live in a smaller house even closer to the plant—for fifteen years, ever since I graduated from college. I rented this one out for quite a while.”
“That’s when you opened your business? Fifteen years ago?”
“I was set on manufacturing solar modules from the beginning.”
“You must have rich parents to start such an expensive business right out of college.”
“No. Not at all.”
“Then how’d you get into it?”
Canned goods. Crackers. Oatmeal... Nothing jumped out at him. But he supposed he wasn’t going to find a Caesar salad, bacon and cheddar-topped potatoes and filet mignon in the pantry. He’d have to make whatever they ate, and he didn’t have a lot to work with. “Somehow I convinced the president of our local bank to give me a loan. What with all the new regulations, I doubt the same scenario could happen these days. He lent me that money based solely on his confidence in me.”
“I can only imagine what you must’ve been like—so young and full of ambition.”
“I was certainly driven. But solar was a gamble back then. When I think about it, I’m still surprised he did it.” Giving up on the pantry, he returned to the fridge—as if he might see something different when he looked in it a second time.
“Why was solar such a gamble? Most people see it as the wave of the future.”
“That long ago, the ‘wave of the future’ was too expensive for all but the richest people. That made it hard to sell.”
“I would’ve bet on you, too. In a heartbeat.”
He turned to look at her. “To what do I owe such a compliment? My trustworthy face?”
“I’d credit it more to your inherent confidence. You believe you can do...whatever, so the people around you believe it, too.”
How had she come up with that? They knew virtually nothing about each other. “I had no idea I was so confident that complete strangers could tell.”
“I’m good at reading people.” She gestured around her. “So...you fulfilled your obligation to the bank, and then you remodeled?”
He wondered whether she’d mind if he ran to town to get dinner. He almost suggested it. But she’d said she was hungry, and he guessed she’d prefer not to wait. “I wasn’t in a hurry to put any money into the house. The business has always been my top priority. But last year when I bought the property with the house you’re renting and decided to clean it up, I figured I might as well update this one, too, and move into it.”
That he’d finally gone ahead and made so many improvements drove Noelle nuts, since she’d been dying to fix up one of his houses while they were married. Actually, she’d started out begging him to buy her a big house in town—something that would show wealth and status, and where she could be at the center of activity. He’d refused, and his refusal had caused so many arguments between them that he’d stonewalled her when she eventually gave up and asked for a remodel of one of his current homes instead.
Now he felt like a stubborn ass. He could’ve allowed her to enjoy the process—as well as the finished product. But he’d been so irritated with how shallow she was, and was so miserable being married to her, he’d dug in his heels.
In retrospect, he understood that making her live in an old house he could’ve remodeled but wouldn’t was his revenge for knowing she’d trapped him to begin with.
“You must’ve used the same contractor,” Lourdes mused.
“Yes. One of my best friends, Riley Stinson.”
“He does quality work.”
“Come spring, he’s planning to renovate the house next door, which I’m currently renting to one of my employees, and the one closer to the plant, which is currently empty. They’ll look a lot different when he’s done.”
She stared out at the snow falling into his backyard, which wasn’t a yard so much as a large field. “How many employees do you have?”
“Fourteen, at the moment.”
“That must make you the biggest employer in Whiskey Creek.”
He chuckled as he moved the ketchup and pickles to see if there was anything behind them.
He found...butter. Great.
“Possibly,” he responded. “But that isn’t saying much.”
“Were you born here?”
“I was.” What if he made eggs and toast? It wasn’t a fancy meal, but he had a whole shelf of homemade jelly he’d bought from Morgan’s partner, who canned every spring and then foisted off on him whatever she couldn’t sell elsewhere. Along with some good coffee, fried eggs could be enjoyable...
“Have you ever considered leaving?” she asked.
He straightened. “Whiskey Creek? No, not really. Why would I want to do that?”
“Don’t you ever feel it’s too...confining?”
He thought of Noelle. She found it too confining. But he wasn’t like that. He loved it here, couldn’t imagine going anywhere else. Noelle was the only thing that ever made him want to leave. “No. My parents are in town, and they’re getting older. With my sister and her kids living in Pennsylvania, I need to help look after Mom and Dad. I don’t want to leave it all to my stepbrother, Brandon. Besides, I like the people here, the land, the freedom. Being in a big city, with the traffic and the noise and the pollution...that’s not me.”
“I see. You’re a cowboy at heart.”
“Not a cowboy. I don’t rope or ride. Don’t own a pair of cowboy boots or a Western buckle. But I’m definitely a small-town kind of guy.” He lifted the carton of eggs. “Any chance you’d be interested in breakfast for dinner?”
She turned away from the window. “I could eat almost anything.”
“Why didn’t you stop and get something after you landed?” Except for the fact that he didn’t have much to choose from, he didn’t mind feeding her. But with her determination to avoid public places, what would she have eaten if she’d stayed at his rental tonight? There was nothing in those cupboards, other than some coffee he’d taken over as an afterthought. He’d been asked to provide furnishings, not food.
“I should have,” she admitted. “I was in a hurry. Since I’d never seen your house in person, I wasn’t convinced it would work for my retreat, and I wasn’t sure where I’d go if it didn’t. I felt I needed to reserve time for plan B, just in case.”
“Makes sense, I guess.” He found a spatula, but then he began to wonder if he should give her other options. Not everyone cared for dairy foods. “Would you rather have canned soup? I’ve got tomato or vegetable.”
“No. I’ll take the eggs.”
He pulled out a frying pan. “Good choice.”
The eggs popped and sizzled as he stood at the stove. While he waited to flip them, she moved over to his mantel to examine the framed pictures he had there. “Don’t tell me this is Simon O’Neal!”
He could understand why that might surprise her. Simon was one of the biggest movie stars in America. “Actually, it is,” he said. “A few years ago, Gail, one of my best friends, opened a PR agency in LA. She took Simon on as a client, and long story short, they fell in love. They’re married now and have three kids.”
“And you hang out with them?”
“They’re in LA most of the time, or on location, but we get together whenever they come to visit.”
She moved on to the other photographs. “All the rest of these people are...”
“Those are my parents, on the left. The kids you see are my niece and nephew.”
“Your sister’s children, the one who lives in Pennsylvania?”
“Since she remarried and moved there a few years ago, yes. For a while, she was living in one of my rentals.”
“And these other people?”
He glanced over. “My friends.”
“You have a lot of friends,” she said.
“I’m guessing you do, too.”
“New friends aren’t the same as old friends.”
Was she referring to the paradox of being famous and yet lonely? “Are you missing home?” He supposed that would explain why she’d come to the Sierra Nevada Foothills.
“I’m missing something,” she said.
He flipped the eggs. “And that is...”
She turned away from his pictures and came back to the table. “Nothing. Never mind.”
* * *
Lourdes enjoyed dinner. Kyle—they were now comfortably on a first-name basis—was down-to-earth and didn’t seem too affected by her celebrity. He wasn’t overly solicitous, just real. Somehow that put her at ease, made her feel at home when she’d been on edge for so long. Maybe, since he was used to socializing with someone far more famous than she was, he didn’t consider her to be any big deal.
Or maybe it was just that Kyle was so comfortable in his own skin. Had she ever met a man more self-assured? She’d seen plenty of arrogance in her line of work. And vanity. The vanity was worse than the arrogance. But Kyle was different. He seemed to be at peace with who and what he was, and she admired his quiet strength, even though she didn’t know him very well.
He was the calm at the center of the storm, she thought and felt a spark of creative excitement. That was it! Her first idea! She’d write a song about how one person could provide a safe harbor for others in the middle of life’s chaos and confusion.
The fact that she felt like writing anything lifted her spirits. This was the first time she’d experienced that desire since her last album...
“What are you smiling at?” Kyle asked.
She sobered. “Nothing. It just feels good to be full. And warm.”
“You can turn the thermostat up higher, if you like.” He raised one eyebrow. “But I might have to go sleep in the garage if you do.”
She laughed as she handed him her plate, since he was standing at the sink, and went back to finish clearing the table. “You’re safe. The temperature’s perfect in here.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“So...you’re single,” she said as she brought him their cups.
He seemed startled by the comment. “Yes.”
“An entrenched bachelor?”
“Not quite. I’m divorced.”
She hesitated before going back to get their orange juice glasses. “Do you have kids?”
“No. And considering what my ex-wife is like, that’s a blessing.”
She wanted to ask him more—how long ago he was married, how he met his wife, whether or not she still lived in town. Lourdes also wondered, but wouldn’t ask, why they hadn’t had children. But then her phone buzzed on the counter, where she’d put it earlier. She’d left Derrick several messages while she was at the airport and then when she’d arrived in Whiskey Creek, and he was getting back to her.
Finally...
“Excuse me,” she said, taking her phone into the spare room where Kyle had put her bag.
* * *
Kyle tried to ignore Lourdes’s voice. She was whispering, so she wouldn’t be overheard, but her whisper was so loud it actually drew more attention to her conversation.
He was about to turn on the television. Whatever she had to say to Derrick Meade—there was no doubt it was him, since she’d said his name a number of times—was none of his business. But then he heard tears in her voice and couldn’t help pausing to listen.
“You must’ve been with her...Then where were you all day? You had to know I was trying to reach you...You always have your phone with you. You’d have it surgically implanted into your ear if you could...That’s what you constantly tell me, but that’s not what I’m feeling...Then why continue to put off the wedding? Before you met Crystal, you were in such a hurry...So it’s what’s happened to my career that’s made you back off? If I’m not the hottest singer in Nashville, you’re no longer interested?...I get that, but what else am I supposed to think?...So are you coming here or not?...Never mind. Go ahead and do whatever you have to do for Crystal...No, I’m not! You’re the one who’s acting weird...Forget it. I’ve got a lot to do, too. I’m fine here without you.”
The sudden silence led Kyle to believe she’d hung up. He also guessed she was crying. It sounded like it.
Should he knock on the door and attempt to console her? He’d always been someone who tried to fix whatever was broken, and that included the people in his life. But he couldn’t imagine something that intrusive going over very well for either one of them. They’d barely met.
Assuming she’d prefer her privacy, he put on Thursday night football. Hopefully, that would distract him and give her enough background noise to hide her sniffles.
But it was only fifteen minutes later that the door slammed against the inside wall and she charged out of the bedroom. “Kyle?”
He lowered the volume and looked over at her. Her red, swollen eyes left little doubt that there’d been tears. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She wiped her cheeks. “Not really, but I haven’t been okay in a while.”
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s my problem, and I’ll take care of it, but I was wondering if you’d do me a favor.”
He took his feet off the coffee table and sat up. “What kind of favor?”
“It’s sort of an odd request.”
This made him leery. Noelle always approached him with one odd request or another. “I’m listening.”
“I was hoping you’d call my manager and ask for Crystal Holtree.”
“Who’s Crystal Holtree?”
“If you don’t know yet, you will within the next year. She’s another singer—Nashville’s new darling. Derrick manages her career, too.”
“And you want to see if he’s managing a bit more than that.”
Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Are you sure you should check up on him like this?”
“My heart is telling me he’d never be unfaithful, but my head is telling me something else. I’m going crazy, becoming so insecure. I have to know if it’s him—or me.”
He rubbed his chin as he thought about her request.
“It’s just one phone call,” she said.
“But he knows who I am.”
“Okay, it’s one phone call and you’ll have to claim to be someone else.”
“Like...”
She spread out her hands. “Robin Graham.”
“Who’s Robin Graham?”
“No one. I made up the name. You could say you’re Robin Graham with Country Weekly or CMT and you’d like to interview Crystal. That’s all you’d have to do. He wouldn’t want her to miss that call. If she’s with him, he’ll hand over the phone, and if he hands over the phone, he’s been lying to me.”
“But he has my cell number in his contacts. I put it in the rental ad.”
“You don’t have another phone?”
“Not here at home. I guess I could block my number...”