Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
E ryn slid into the large booth the middle-aged hostess ushered them into, Dad behind her. Across, Maxwell entered first, followed by his aunt, then his brother. She managed not to let her nose wrinkle at Bryce’s wink. That guy was much too forward for her. Too slick. Too full of himself.
The hostess set down a stack of menus and glanced between them, her face alive with curiosity. “Welcome to the Golden Grill. What can I get you folks to drink?”
“Black coffee, please.” Maxwell gestured to Eryn. “You?”
“Herbal tea?”
“Sure. We have chamomile and mint.”
“Mint, please.”
The others ordered, and Maxwell leaned toward her. “Don’t let Paisley hear you order herbal tea.”
Eryn widened her eyes. “Why’s that?”
“She thinks Earl Grey is the only beverage that matters. She takes it strong and black.”
“Oh.” She smiled a little. “I’ll be careful around her.”
“Hey, I was teasing. You can order whatever you like, whether she’s nearby or not. You do you.”
“Okay.” Of course, that’s what he’d meant. He hadn’t been making fun of her choice so much as making conversation. She opened the menu, aware of Dad chatting with Nadine and Bryce across the table. How did he do that so casually? But she could make an effort. “What’s good here?”
“Everything.” Maxwell chuckled. “Truly, you can’t go wrong. I’m going for a cheeseburger and fries today.”
Nadine elbowed him. “Where’s your veggie, young man?”
Maxwell gave his aunt a hangdog look. “I’ll eat extra at dinner?”
Nadine shook her head. “You boys. I’ll order you each a side salad, you hear me? And you’ll eat it, too.”
“Yes’m.” But Maxwell’s wink was for Eryn. “You heard the sergeant, Eryn. Make sure whatever you order has a vegetable. Apparently, a wisp of lettuce and a slice of tomato doesn’t count.”
Nadine mock-glared at Maxwell as she closed her menu. He laughed.
Eryn smiled. Even though the aunt and her nephews hadn’t known each other long, they seemed to have established a rapport.
The hostess returned with their drinks. “You must be new here.” She placed Dad’s coffee in front of him. “I’m Estelle. My husband and I own this diner.”
“Keith Ralston and my daughter, Eryn. We’ve recently moved from Kansas.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy Jewel Lake! It’s a great little town, and there’s always something going on.”
Across the table, Maxwell’s eyes danced with mirth, but he didn’t say anything other than give his order when Estelle produced an order pad and pencil.
Nadine nudged him again.
Why didn’t Eryn have an aunt like her? Wouldn’t her life have been easier if either of her parents had siblings who might have taken an interest in her and her twin? Though Amelia likely wouldn’t have cared. Or else, she’d have hogged the attention.
On the other hand, Eryn didn’t want relatives to suddenly appear the way Maxwell had explained the Klines’ arrival into the Sullivan clan. That would have been so unsettling.
A loud group of cowboys with women on their arms surrounded the long, makeshift table down the center of the café and took their seats.
“Be with you in a minute,” Estelle hollered. “The usual drinks?”
“Yes, ma’am!” one of the cowboys called back.
“Those are the Cavanagh brothers,” Maxwell said. “They run Rockstead Ranch just north of Sweet River.” He chuckled. “And they own the middle of the Golden Grill for Sunday lunch.”
Six men in jeans and plaid shirts hung their cowboy hats on a nearby coat tree and held chairs for their gorgeous women. The women looked casually elegant as they chatted amongst themselves even though they sat interspersed with their men.
What must it be like to marry into a ranching family like that? The Sullivans were different, since there were only three brothers plus their cousins.
A flush shot up Eryn’s cheeks. She had no business thinking about Maxwell’s family as though she had any connection to them. Sure, he hinted he wanted to date her, but that wouldn’t last, would it?
At least, this time Amelia wasn’t around to steal a potential boyfriend from under her nose. Eryn swallowed hard. Also, the potential boyfriend wasn’t pretending to like Eryn so he could get closer to Amelia. That had been incredibly humiliating, enough to call Eryn off dating forever.
Or until her sister died. But the scars ran deep.
Bryce excused himself and pulled up a chair at the end of the Cavanagh table, where he laughed along with the cowboys at who knew what.
And then Eryn realized Maxwell was watching her again. She smiled at him pensively. Why couldn’t she just relax and enjoy the attention while she had it? The sooner he figured out what a wallflower she was, the sooner he’d turn his attention elsewhere. Then she could go back to stitching quilts and listening to audiobooks and not dreaming at all of romance.
“Deep in thought?” he asked quietly.
“I guess so. Sorry I’m such poor company.”
“People don’t have to talk incessantly to be good company. In fact, that might ensure they’re not .”
She felt that way herself, but then, he seemed to be so much more outgoing than she was. She was nearly always afraid she’d say the wrong thing, and someone would make fun of her. Not Dad so much. Other people.
“So, you’re starting in the kitchen tomorrow?”
Eryn nodded. “Yes. I’ll be prepping in the morning. Does she really do it all herself?”
“No, she has a casual part-timer besides you, and help on weekends we’re booked. You’ll meet them over the next few days.”
“Then… does she really need me?”
Maxwell grinned. “She was happy to have you join the team.”
That wasn’t the same thing as being needed.
“Have you been giving more thought to the gift shop? I’ll show you what there is when we get back to the lodge if you like. It might be inspiring.” He grimaced. “Or it might not be. No pressure, either way.”
“I have thought a bit about it.” She wasn’t about to tell him that had mostly been during the sermon. “I’d like a tour, thank you.” And more time with Maxwell was also welcome, especially if the focus wasn’t on her.
“Perfect. We’ll do that.”
“Tell me more about what you do at the ranch.”
“I’d given my crew a couple of weeks off over the reunion, and they’ve been trickling back over the weekend. We get back to work in the morning. Several cottages are nearing completion.”
“I’d like to see that sometime.”
“Deal. Maybe a bit later in the week, once we’re back in the groove. There will almost certainly be a lot of little things needing my attention over the first few days as we get back to speed.”
He’d brushed her off. But not completely. What he said made sense.
“We’ve got another set of cottages to work on over the winter, but we’re also nearing finality on the plans for eight treehouses to be built in spring.” His grin reached his eyes. “Grandfather is calling the new road Eagles’ Nest Lane to go along with the theme.”
“Treehouses? For tourists?” Eryn’s eyes widened.
“Yep. They’re a thing, and we have a grove of larger trees north of the lake. We’ve been working on the environmental impact plans, and we’ve cleared every hurdle so far. Just a few more assessments to go before we can start laying out services to the area.”
“Electricity?”
“And plumbing. They’ll each have a bathroom up there.”
“Wow. I didn’t know that was possible.”
“I’ve been working with an architect for the past few months now. It’s all coming together.” He grinned. “I thrive on making the impossible possible.”
This guy. Was there any project he couldn’t envision, pursue, and bring to completion?
Maxwell unlocked the door to the gift shop and flipped on the light switch before ushering Eryn inside. What would she think? The room wasn’t large, but it had a bank of windows facing the deck along the front of the lodge, plus a smaller one beside the door to the foyer, which had been obscured with corrugated plastic for the winter.
He studied her as she turned slowly, taking in the shelves displaying trinkets, the rack on the back wall with a few books of local cowboy lore, and several empty tables.
Also, someone should periodically dust in here, even in the offseason. He’d mention it to Kaci, the head housekeeper.
Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “What do you think?”
Eryn looked at him as she touched a plastic souvenir horse probably made overseas somewhere. “It… could use help.”
Maxwell belted out a laugh. “You think?”
Eryn smiled. “Yes?”
“What would you do with this space if I handed it to you and asked you to create a gift shop for Sweet River?”
She pursed her lips.
He tried not to notice.
Eryn picked up the horse. “Do you really want to know?”
Maxwell leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Definitely. Hit me with it.”
“Well, I’d start with getting rid of all this… junk. It’s vaguely cowboyish, but it doesn’t say anything about this place. Or about the United States, let alone Montana.”
“Everything in that section is gone now. What else?”
She looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
He swept his hand. “Imagine it gone. If you’re taking this space on, and if you want it to disappear, assume it has happened. Anything else being kicked to the curb?”
“Nearly everything?”
Her voice was so soft he barely heard her words, but his heart leaped. “Perfect. What do you envision in its place?”
“What local artisans are there who might be interested in placing consignment pieces?”
“We tend to purchase outright unless artisans prefer consignment. Most don’t.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“We carry pottery from Bayside Kiln in Jewel Lake. The potter, Trinity, goes to our church, actually. She bought back what didn’t sell because she had a major order to fill for a gallery in Sunday Harbor.” He pointed at one of the empty tables. “That’s where we display her stuff. It sells pretty well.”
“Good. Is there someone in the area who does stained glass? Any candle crafters? Candy makers?”
“I… I don’t know.” Maxwell pointed at the wide windows. “Stained glass would look nice with sunlight shining through, wouldn’t it?”
Eryn nodded. “I was thinking a sweetgrass section with baskets and sachets and maybe candles. I’m sure there are other things that could be made from it and sold.”
He narrowed his eyes and tried to think. “We can brainstorm that further. Anything else?”
She crossed to the books. “Montana history is great, but what about fiction? Coloring books? Books about gems — aren’t they what Jewel Lake is named for?”
“Right. There have been all kinds mined in this area. Sapphires, rubies, agates, garnets — we’re not far from the Garnet ghost town.”
“Do you offer tours there?”
He blinked. “Um, no. Should we?” Offsite excursions would require a second activities director, as Paisley’s docket was full enough.
“Why not? So, there should be a section for stuff to do with gemstones. I’m not sure what would go in it because I don’t know how they’re discovered or mined or whatever.”
“Fair enough.” Maxwell nodded. “A sweetgrass section. A beefed-up book section. A gem section. More artisans. Anything else?”
She glanced his way, appearing hesitant.
“You look like you have an idea you’re not sure I’ll like. Anything and everything is on the figurative table today. Whatcha got? We can make it happen.”
“I could… I could maybe come up with a simple quilt design for the ranch. Something for potholders or table runners.”
He couldn’t have stopped the smile spreading across his face even if he’d wanted to. “I would love to see that.”
Eryn looked down at where her dressy shoe poked at the edge of a display unit. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” Who had made this woman so unsure of herself? From the interactions Maxwell had observed, it wasn’t her father. He might be a bit oblivious to the fact that Eryn’s reactions weren’t normal — weren’t healthy — but he didn’t seem to be adding to the burden.
Could it have been Amelia? Or being compared to her by everyone all the time? Because, while Maxwell could barely remember shy Eryn from childhood, Amelia stood out like a beacon, larger than life. She’d been confident. Forward. A bit brash, even.
What would it have been like to be her twin, always in her shadow?
“I’ll show you later.”
Maxwell pulled his focus back to Eryn. “You’ve been drawing it already.” It was written all over her face, even as she appeared reluctant to look at him.
“Yes? It’s just a doodle. Not very good yet. Nothing firm.”
He did his own share of doodling ideas for renovations. He’d be willing to bet her ideas were more polished than she was letting on.
“I’ve got a request for you.”
This time, she did look at him and her shoulders braced. “What’s that?”
“Can you put all that in writing? Maybe do some more research on local artisans and things like that, and make a written plan?”
“I… I could.”
“Take a few weeks if you like.” The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel pressured. Like her future depended on it. “Then I’d like to set up a meeting with Tate for you. Maybe at Thanksgiving when my grandfather is here as well, since he has a vested interest in all the areas of the guest ranch.”
“That sounds nerve-wracking.”
“I’ll come with you if you like. And it’s nothing to get anxious about. If that’s the position you’re applying to do, they’ll be delighted with nearly anything you propose. It has to be an improvement over the slipshod way it’s been run seasonally thus far, right?”
“Well…”
“You know I’m right.” He chuckled. “I’ll help with research if you want. Just point me in the right direction.” Because wouldn’t helping her with her proposal be a great excuse to spend time with her and get to know her without piling on pressure?
Yes. Yes, it would.