Glynna Kaye - Mountain Country Courtship

If that was his definition of civilization, she was happy to do without it.

“Actually, I don’t go down there but a few times a year.” He probably thought her a dull-as-dishwater bore for admitting that. An unsophisticated bumpkin. Well, let him think whatever he wanted. It didn’t much matter to her. “I spent the past decade in the Phoenix area’s Valley of the Sun enjoying pleasant winters, palm trees and saguaros, and the extras you mentioned that a metropolis offers. But I endured record-breaking summer heat. Lengthy bumper-to-bumper commutes, scorpions, air-quality alerts and high crime rates. Now I enjoy walking to work, cool summer days and pine-fresh air. I’m looking forward to autumn and hopefully a white Christmas. It seems like a fair trade.”

If only she could remain here.

If only Mrs. Gyles wouldn’t close the inn.

Denny chuckled as she concluded her lengthy sales pitch for mountain country Arizona. “I know my Hunter side of the family has been rooted to this region for over a hundred years. Must be a marker my personal genetic makeup skipped.”

“My family has also been rooted here a long time.”

He raised a brow. “But in your family’s case, everyone except your great-aunt managed to make the great escape.”

Did he think closing the inn would be the perfect opportunity for Aunt Viola to flee, as well? To at long last reach the “civilization” she’d missed out on most of her life?

He had no idea the toll that the possibility of closing the inn was taking on her aunt. If the light coming from under her bedroom door last night was an indication, she’d slept little. Her aunt didn’t own the inn—although that was an idea they’d explored last evening, only to conclude they didn’t have the combined resources required should Denny’s mother be persuaded to part with it.

Selling a property she’d acquired when divorcing Denny’s father, however, was something Charlotte had done but once. As Aunt Viola recalled, the person she’d sold to—an artist she thought she could trust—immediately resold to her ex-husband and put it back into his hands. So going forward, she chose to lease only—or to let buildings stand vacant and boarded up, a much-resented blight on the community.

Unquestionably, the inn wasn’t a big moneymaker, and Mrs. Gyles had every right to close it down when Aunt Viola’s contract was up for renewal. Was there any way they could convince Charlotte’s son that the inn was worth the time and expense involved to make it a viable endeavor?

“Do you think perhaps—?”

But she’d barely started to speak when Denny raised his hand apologetically and stepped away to take another call.

Both disappointed and disgusted, she tossed the flower aside and returned to the inn without giving Hayden Hunter a second glance. She’d just stepped inside and shut the glass-paned doors when she heard someone cry out, followed by what sounded like the crash of breaking dishes.

Her heart in her throat, Lillian rushed to the inn’s kitchen to find her aunt tottering on a low step stool in front of an open upper cabinet and staring down at the shattered china. Instantly steadying her, Lillian helped her down.

“What do you think you’re doing, Aunt Vi? We agreed months ago that I’d empty the dishwasher and put away the things on the high shelves. You could have fallen.”

“Well, I didn’t. But I’m so upset about that platter. It was my mother’s.”

“I loved it, too. But I’m more concerned that could be you down there on the floor if you pull another stunt like that.” Lillian gave her a firm look and lowered her voice. “I’ll clean this up. I think you should go rest.”

“Is he still here?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“It’s not looking good. But things will look worse if he sees you not at your best. You’ve made great strides since last winter, and I’ve been assuring him you’re up to speed for renewal of the managerial position. Please don’t make me eat my words.”

“It’s not his decision. It’s Char’s.”

“Well, she sent him, so I assume she trusts his judgment. But in the meantime, please don’t risk doing something that could give him further reason to deliver a negative report.”

Aunt Viola touched her hand wearily to her forehead. “This is my fault. For breaking my hip. For sending those emails that apparently provoked Char.”

“Now stop that. You didn’t fall on purpose. And feel free to blame me for the emails. That was my doing. But Mrs. Gyles needed honest communication on the state of things here. Her lack of interest in the property has had you losing business every single day for who knows how long. She needs to step up and take care of things.”

“But it’s you who has to take care of my business. And take care of me. Taylor, too. That’s not right, you giving up your career and—”

“There’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be than here with you and Taylor.” In fact, in addition to loving the closeness of their crazy mix of a family, she’d discovered a love for innkeeping and gardening that she was just beginning to tap into.

Her aunt’s eyes filled with a sadness that tugged at Lillian’s heart. “What are we going to do, Lil? If the inn is closed, I mean?”

She had no idea. But she didn’t dare let her concerns further upset her aunt. Slipping her arm around her waist, she gave her a squeeze and a rallying smile. “We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. And trust God every step of the way. But while we await the verdict, please don’t do anything to jeopardize what little hope we do have.”

Which didn’t appear to be much.

Chapter Three

“So how is Viola?” Denny’s mother had inquired when he’d stepped away from Lillian to take the call—his parent having first filled him in on the agonies of her physical therapy at the rehab center. The innkeeper’s niece had gone inside, giving him some privacy.

“She’s holding her own surprisingly well,” he said, keeping his voice low as he gazed around his picturesque surroundings and filled his lungs with the rich blend of earth, pine and flowers. It did seem a shame to pull the plug on an events venue like this one. But it couldn’t be helped. “The niece you’d mentioned earlier—Lillian Keene—is helping out as Miss Everett continues to recover.”

“I didn’t know her niece was still there.”

“Oh, yes. And if I’m not mistaken, she’s the source of the emails you’ve been badgered with.”

“Is there legitimacy to those requests? Viola never said anything about those issues until recently. I was taken off guard.”

“They’re legitimate.” He mentally skimmed through the lengthy list he’d compiled. “But a good venture to keep pouring money into? Doubtful.”

“While the inn’s never been profitable, Elden’s never once objected, since it’s mine from the divorce settlement. He knows Viola was the one person who tried to understand when I was unhappy and confused. Didn’t blame me for everything. She was the sole person in town who took the time to get to know me. Who seemed to care.”

“But you don’t owe her for the rest of her life.”

“No, but I hate to see her lose her home at her age, maybe be forced to leave Hunter Ridge altogether.”

“Some things can’t be helped and, realistically, how many more years do you think she can handle the job?”

“What would it take to fix the place up?”

She hasn’t been listening.

With an inward groan, he paced the garden patio. He didn’t want his mother underwriting what would likely never amount to more than a fancy rest home for her friend. “I can forward the list to you and ballpark what it might cost. But for a more accurate estimate, I’d have to engage a contractor and touch base with suppliers. That could take considerable time.”