C.C. Coburn - Sweet Home Colorado

Jack couldn’t disappoint Adam and Carly. The house they presently lived in was getting to be way too small for Adam’s growing family. Jack’s youngest brother had married a widow with four children. Then they’d adopted two dogs and a cat from the animal shelter. And now Carly was pregnant.

“I’d love to restore that beauty to her former grandeur, Mike, but right now I don’t have the time. You know I’m slated to start work on Adam and Carly’s place next.”

It sure would be nice to renovate the old Victorian, though. The house had stood empty and neglected for too long. Jack scratched the rash on the inside of his elbow, then felt the need to scratch the one behind his knee. He’d have to see a doctor about the damned things pretty soon. Another doctor. That senile old fool Jenkins and his expensive creams hadn’t helped the rashes he’d been plagued with for the past couple of months. In fact, they just kept getting worse. The guy ought to be put out to pasture. “When’s your client going to be here?”

“Tomorrow. And I’m supposed to have found and employed a contractor by then.”

“Again, I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on me doing this. I didn’t know lawyers did stuff like that for their clients.”

“Jack, lawyers would walk barefoot over hot coals for their clients.”

Jack let out a guffaw of derision. “Yeah, right! Pull the other leg—it plays ‘Jingle Bells.’ What you mean is—so long as they pay you enough, you’d do the hot-coals walk.”

“I’ve already received a hefty advance for finding the right contractor. Naturally, the doc is now one of my most important clients.”

“Yeah, he’s probably, apart from me, your only client!”

He could hear the smile in Mike’s voice. One thing Mike wasn’t short of was clients. Too bad a lot of them failed to pay up. “C’mon, Jack. Gimme a break and get an estimate to me, ASAP?”

Jack grimaced. He knew what Mike was saying and it wasn’t too far from the truth—his lawyer could do with building up his client base. A paying client base. Too often softhearted Mike ended up footing the bill for his clients. Snaring a doctor, one prepared to send an advance, was a coup.

Spruce Lake, nestled in the Colorado Rockies, was a ski and summer resort that, until a decade ago, had been a well-kept secret. However, it was now being discovered, and those in the know had been snapping up properties for a good few years. That helped boost the local economy, but Jack wasn’t sure he welcomed the change to his formerly sleepy hometown.

In Jack’s opinion, Spruce Lake was picture-postcard perfect. Filled with a mixture of old Victorians and more modern homes, its main attraction was an unsurpassed ski mountain during the winter. It also offered myriad summer activities from hiking and bike riding to golfing and white-water rafting, fishing, mine tours and a thriving Main Street market.

The only problem, according to the Chamber of Commerce, was that the rest of the world had barely heard of the place. Sure, Aspen and Vail were household names for the dedicated skier, celebrity and socialite, but Spruce Lake had yet to be discovered by the glitterati—which suited Jack just fine. Small-town life was what he knew and loved. He didn’t want to live anywhere else, and if this rich doctor client of Mike’s wanted to preserve some of the town’s unique beauty by restoring Missy Saunders’s old Victorian, then he should be willing to help out—a little, anyway.

“I’ll see what I can do about an estimate, Mike.”

“Great! I knew I could rely on you, buddy. Can I have it first thing tomorrow?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m serious. This is urgent.”

Jack sighed. Mike was certainly keen to impress his client. “You seem to forget there’s more than the carpentry to quote on. There’s also, plumbing, electrical, roofing—”

“Yeah, yeah. A guesstimate will be fine. I just need something!”

Jack shook his head. Mike wasn’t going to quit nagging until he agreed. “I’ll get it to you by noon. How’s that sound? And listen, it’s just an estimate for comparison purposes. I really don’t have the time to do the work. I’ve made a promise to Adam and Carly.”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I gotta go.” He suddenly cut the connection.

Jack stared at his cell phone. For someone who claimed he didn’t have enough paying clients, Mike sure was busy. Since moving back to town from a big practice in Colorado Springs, the guy had gotten himself elected to the Chamber of Commerce, so maybe he had some business to attend to there.

He wasn’t due anywhere for a couple of hours so Jack figured he might as well head over to the house. He wouldn’t need a key to get in—one of the front windows had been smashed recently by some kids on spring break. At the very least, he should board it up against further vandalism.

Chapter One

Jack eased his old truck against the curb behind a bright red BMW Z4 parked outside Missy Saunders’s and wished he had the time to work on the house. He hated to see the magnificent old buildings of the former gold-mining town lying unloved and unkept. This home was a particularly fine specimen, built by a miner who’d struck it rich with a huge nugget back in the 1870s. It had passed down through the miner’s family, eventually going to Missy Saunders. Missy was an only child and had never married. Jack guessed it had been sold long ago to pay Missy’s nursing-home fees. The sweet old lady had spent a while at the Twilight Years before passing on. Jack regretted he hadn’t been living in Spruce Lake so he could’ve attended her funeral—especially since his mom had reported that Gracie had made a brief appearance to pay her respects to her great-aunt. He wished he’d seen her then. It might have helped him make up his mind about a few things, maybe get her out of his system once and for all.

He shook his head to clear it. No point in reminiscing about what might have been. He and Gracie were history. She was never coming back to town; she’d told him as much. He really needed to get over her and move on with his life. His realization that he was still in love with her had helped him decide that he’d never make a priest and he’d left the seminary in L.A. before being ordained. Although there’d been other reasons for leaving, Gracie had been the main one. But she was a married woman and therefore off-limits, so instead he’d channeled his energies into a carpentry apprenticeship, then worked with underprivileged kids helping them learn a trade and life skills. It was rewarding work, but a lonely life nevertheless.

Since returning to Spruce Lake a couple of years ago, Jack had restored many of the town’s Victorian-era buildings—but none of them had the size and grandeur of Missy Saunders’s place. Still, there were other contractors in the county, whom Mike had probably been sweet-talking all week. Funny that no one else had taken on the project.

Parked in front of the sports car was his new truck, emblazoned with Jack O’Malley Constructions on the doors. Jack had taken delivery of the Dodge Ram only last week. And he hated it. It was just too new and shiny for him. He preferred his old Ford F150.

Jack had had Betsy since high school and, before that, she’d been used to run around the family ranch, Two Elk. She had over a million miles on the clock and wasn’t missing a beat. Her seats were worn and comfortable and fitted Jack’s butt like a glove.

He’d felt like a traitor when he’d taken Betsy down to trade her in on the Dodge. They’d offered peanuts for her, so he’d kept Betsy and bought the Dodge.

Two days later he gave the Dodge to his foreman, Al Hernandez, to drive. Al was only too happy to use the boss’s truck, with its smell of new leather and its too shiny paintwork. Al had three young boys, and the twin cab arrangement suited his family perfectly.