Chapter 1
Chapter One
F ootsteps pulled my attention away from my latest masterpiece, a banana chiffon cake complete with banana buttercream frosting and chopped walnuts. Jonathan closed his office door. He was wearing what I called his stern father expression, brows jutting and low; his mouth pulled into a thin straight line. He usually wore it after a long night in his office, and tonight was no different. John was handsome in the classical sense, every feature in its proper position, a nose that was neither too big nor too small for his face, a strong chin with the slightest cleft and a pleasing smile (though he was sparing with it lately). I'd met him at a cocktail party, one of those soirees that was filled with pretentious people who had far more money than charm. At the time, I concluded Jonathan had both, charm and money, and when he gazed at me with his dark, expressive eyes, I melted like butter. Time had withered away some of the initial excitement. My knees didn't turn to jelly with his kiss anymore, but I'd convinced myself that was all part of love. The frenetic energy of a new romance always mellowed with time. Now we'd fallen into a routine that was far less intoxicating and far more practical. We'd been engaged for two years. I'd found a lot of excuses for putting off the big day. Now the day was nearly upon us.
Jonathan placed a hand on the side of my waist and kissed the top of my head. "I do hope this is just nerves. You've been baking cakes every night." He unnecessarily waved his arm at the array of cake plates dotting the counter. "Most women are starving themselves three days before they squeeze into their gown, but you're going out of your way to plump up the groom as well."
The walnuts clattered as I dropped them back into the bowl and spun around. We were standing toe to toe, but he was a head taller. I had to turn my face up to give him a proper scowl. "My dress will fit me just fine, thank you, and I'm developing recipes for my future bakery."
John rolled his eyes. "Right, the old-fashioned bakery."
"I prefer to call it a vintage bakery," I said sharply and turned back to my cake. "It would be nice if you supported my idea instead of mocking me as if I'm some silly little girl with a dream to own a flying pony farm."
I gave my whole body a little shake. It was there again—the niggling feeling that the wedding was a mistake. Of course, it was too late to turn back now. What had started as my perfect wedding, a few good friends and family standing in a mountain meadow followed by a reception picnic with sandwiches, potato salad and homemade brownies, had morphed into a regal affair on the grounds of John's family estate. Margaret Rathbone, my future mother-in-law, had not only taken the reins of the wedding plans, she had wrested them out of my hands completely. John convinced me that she would do an exceptional job and that it made her happy. Since the two of us had never become great friends (understatement of the year, I had a better relationship with my dental hygienist) I stepped back and gave her full control.
"You're a Paris trained pastry chef, and you work at the hottest, most exclusive restaurant in town," John recited as if these were realities I knew nothing about, "why would you want the headache and drudgery of starting a bakery from scratch?"
I pressed the walnut halves into the frosting just a little deeper than necessary. "I don't have the energy or enthusiasm to revisit this same argument, John. Go on to bed. I'm going to clean up."
"Don't be too loud. I'll be out by the time my head hits the pillow." His retreating footsteps caused my shoulders to relax. It seemed our conversations grew more contentious each day. I brushed it off as the obligatory wedding jitters. His footsteps neared again, causing my shoulders to inch higher.
He dropped a pamphlet of some sort on the end of the kitchen counter. "I nearly forgot. Trevor came by my office today. The houses in that new neighborhood are selling fast. We need to make an offer or we'll lose out."
Trevor had been John's college roommate. He left the finance world to sell luxury real estate. He was quite successful mostly because he was relentless and pushy, a real won't take no for an answer kind of salesman.
I leaned over to glance at the pamphlet. The house on the cover was a steel and glass monstrosity that looked more as if it should house nuclear weapons than a family. "I thought we finally agreed on something with character."
"Are you kidding, Scotlyn? These places ooze character."
"They look like something from a science fiction movie set. We could look for a nice mid-century house with big windows and brick work. They have a sort of futuristic feel, and they're roomy inside."
John had some hard to overlook habits, the aforementioned eye rolling for one, and twisting the lid on the mayo jar too tightly for another, but his scoffing laugh was the one that irritated me the most. "I refuse to spend hard-earned money on someone's rundown ranch house from the sixties."
"I need to finish this. We can talk about houses another time." I picked up my phone to take a few photos of my banana masterpiece. Lush frosting covered the top of the banana rich chiffon cake. The buttery, sweet banana aroma made it the perfect cake to lure customers into a bakery.
"Fine but I've got my heart set on having one of the houses in that neighborhood. Trevor said it will be a great investment."
"Well, that's it then. I should have gotten Trevor's opinion on my wedding gown because he obviously has all the secrets of the world tucked in that semi balding head of his." This particular conversation was getting more contentious than most. I was going with the wedding jitter excuse again, but I worried what excuse I'd turn to after the ceremony. My phone rang, both startling me and relieving me until I looked at the screen. "Nana," I gasped. "She should have been in bed hours ago."
"I'll bet she fell asleep with it under her pillow again. You'll probably just hear smothered snoring on the other end," John said, once again ending his comment with that horrid laugh.
"Nana, it's Scottie, is something wrong?" As angry as I was at John's comment, I hoped it was true.
Heavy breathing came through the phone, followed by a few grunts. "Scottie," Nana said through terrified, deep gulps of air.
My entire body tightened with adrenaline, and I nearly dropped the phone in fear. "What's going on, Nana? Are you all right? Should I call someone?" Nana had sold her car five years earlier, deciding she no longer wanted to drive. It was too late for her to be out walking. I quickly calculated how long it would take me to get up to Ripple Creek. It was a weeknight and well past traffic hour. With a persistent heavy foot and luck when it came to the traffic signals in town, I could be at her place in two hours. It sounded dreadfully long for the amount of angst coming through the speaker.
"Scottie," she repeated. "I need you. Oh no," she gasped. Debris rustled through the phone. She was outside. It was far too dark for her to be trudging around in her yard.
"What is it, Nana? Please, tell me so I can help. Should I hang up and call Ranger Roy?"
"Too late for that," she huffed. Her voice was cutting out. She was losing signal. There were numerous dead zones in Ripple Creek.
"Nana, I'm losing you. Should I come?"
John had moved closer, curious and concerned about what was happening.
"I need you, Scottie. Watch your step." The phone cut out.
"Wait, Nana. I can't hear you. Can you hear me?" I tried to steady my voice, but it shook with fear. "Nana? Nana!" I pulled the phone from my ear. The call was lost. I redialed her number three times, but it went straight to voicemail. I could barely hold the phone steady as I scrolled through my contact list to Ranger Roy. Roy was all that Ripple Creek had for law enforcement. When necessary, rangers were called down from the resort towns, but they always took their time getting there.
Roy's phone went straight to voicemail too. It was late but he always answered, no matter the time. I redialed his number again as I hurried toward the bedroom. No answer. Roy was getting on in years. Nana mentioned he was losing his hearing. The safety of the entire town was dependent on a man in his late seventies who rode around on a horse that was equal to his age in horse years.
John stepped into the bedroom behind me. "What's happening?"
"I don't know. Nana sounded so distressed." I dragged the suitcase out of the closet. "I've never heard her like that. Something's wrong and the ranger isn't answering his phone."
It was the middle of summer and even Ripple Creek, nestled high in the Rockies, would be warm. I yanked a few pairs of shorts and shirts out of my dresser, not taking care to match or coordinate.
"Wait, you can't seriously be thinking of driving up there tonight? Or at all. We're getting married on Saturday."
I huffed in aggravation. This was the time I needed support not lectures. "I'll be back before Saturday. If not, maybe your mom can walk down the aisle. This is more her wedding than mine." I shoved underwear and socks into the hastily packed suitcase.
"You're not thinking straight, Scotlyn." John was the one person who never called me by my nickname, Scottie. I had no idea why it bothered me but it did and plenty. "Be reasonable." He pulled a handful of clothes back out of the suitcase.
I snatched them from his hand and pushed them back into the pile. "My Nana needs me." I paused. "Come with me."
"I can't. I've got a big meeting in the morning. Besides, my aunt and uncle are flying in tomorrow."
"Oh, then I guess it's not worry for my safety that has you trying to unpack my clothes. You go to your meetings and give my regards to your relatives. Tell them I'll see them on Saturday." I slapped the suitcase shut and lugged it to the front room. I barely stopped in the doorway to give him a quick kiss on the mouth.
"This is nuts, Scotlyn," John said as I walked out and shut the door.
I dialed Nana as I headed to the elevator. No answer. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.