There was hardly a morning Rayne wasn't showered, dressed, and fully caffeinated before the sun's first yawn of light. Hardly a morning she wasn't prepared to face the challenges of managing a forty-three-room lodge. And today-day one of the proverbial tortoise-and-hare race-was no exception.
The practiced pep in her step was as purposeful as the positive self-talk on perseverance she'd rehearsed all weekend.
As she neared the expansive wraparound porch, she took in the withering herb garden under the back kitchen window and made a mental note to water twice a day. The forecast called for yet another week of dry heat and wind. No chance of rain.
The screen door sang a sweet welcome of familiarity, reminding her once again that her home and her heart resided nowhere else. There would be trying days, weeks, and months ahead, but there were certain comforts she could always find joy in: the hint of lilac in the summer air, the funny notes Teddy left her on the front desk every morning, and Delia's off-key humming as she manned the breakfast spread.
"Good morning, Delia."
The frosting knife in Delia's hand stilled over a particularly gooey batch of cinnamon rolls. "You can swipe the good right off that greeting and just say, mornin'. 'Cause that's what it is-a morning. Not much good I can see about it, and I'm not even the one who has to work with her."
Rayne heeded the "Approach with Caution" undercurrent in Delia's tone and added an extra beat of happy to her smile. If she could win Delia over to her positivity plan-encourage her to weather a few Celeste-size wind gusts, then maybe she wouldn't have to run this race on her own.
"It will be an adjustment." Rayne touched the back of Delia's cotton blouse. "But we can handle this. Together."
A glob of buttery frosting plopped onto the corner roll, and Delia's mouth dipped into a frown. "So it's true then. Cal gave her your promotion."
"Cal did what he thought best."
"And what about you?"
"I'm going to keep doing what I do best." The forced playfulness in Rayne's tone fooled no one. "Make sure you behave." She planted a rushed kiss on Delia's squishy cheek.
"Sometimes I think you're too nice to be under the thumb of this family."
Hadn't Levi said something similar? She shook her head, refusing to go down that mental rabbit hole again.
"You've worked here since before I was born, so we must not be that bad."
"I'm a creature of habit."
"So am I." Rayne winked and gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. "Just hang on, okay? I'll do my best to cushion the blows."
With a huff, Delia picked up the tray and waited for Rayne to hold the swinging door into the Great Room. "That's exactly what I'm worried about."
There wasn't a guest who refused Delia's famous breakfast table selections: homemade cinnamon rolls, apple-berry scones, and cheddar quiche with bacon. The gourmet buffet had been built into the cost of the rooms. Guests often claimed the lodge offered the best French press coffee in town. Rayne couldn't argue.
Entering the lobby, she halted before she reached the front desk to read whatever Teddy had scribbled for her. He'd been entertaining her with his Post-it note stories of mischief and mayhem for years.
But Teddy's usual sticky note trail wasn't waiting for her. Instead, a gridded yellow piece of paper lay on the shiny mahogany, Rayne's bolded name printed at the top.
SCHEDULE CHANGE-PLEASE BE ADVISED.
The rotation of front-desk clerks had been the same since Rayne had graduated from college. She oversaw the morning shift that stretched from six to two; the afternoon/evening shift was split between Clara Brinkman, a retired preschool teacher, and Barbara Hale, a volunteer librarian. And then there was Teddy.
And yet, it was her name typed in the column under the hours of ten p.m. to six a.m. Not his.
"Oh good, you found the new schedule."
The single-ply paper suddenly felt like a brick in her hand under the scrutiny of her new supervisor. Rayne moved her lips but failed to form any of the questions circling inside her head.
Celeste's manicured hand retrieved the schedule. "I figured the lodge doesn't need both of us working the day shift."
"You . . . you moved me to the night shift? To work with Teddy?"
"No, I let Ted go so you could keep your job. His last shift is tonight." Celeste's blue eyes pierced her through. "Guess I thought you'd be grateful."
Rayne was no stranger to dealing with difficult personalities. She'd worked in customer service since before she was of legal age, yet Celeste seemed to take difficult to an extreme. "And Cal approved this?"
"Of course, didn't I tell you Monday would bring change?" Her reply dripped with contempt.
"But what about Teddy? He's worked here forever. You can't just-"
"I'm sorry, was I wrong to assume you wanted to keep your position after the reconfiguration? Cal assured me you were teachable, willing to be mentored. There's only so much budget to be stretched." Celeste angled her head, giving Rayne the once-over.
Rayne bit the insides of her cheeks and reminded herself of her perseverance plan. She wouldn't answer that-wouldn't be a pawn in Celeste's twisted power games. What mattered now was Teddy. She'd call him the second her shift was over, figure out a way to fix this for him. "The overnight shift is mostly to man the desk in case of late-night emergencies. I don't see how working that shift could possibly benefit you or any of the duties I'm responsible for at the lodge."
"Perhaps that's exactly why you weren't consulted. It's over your head." She gave a pity-soaked smile and waved her hand as if to shoo a fly. "Stay close to the desk today."
"Wait-when is this schedule supposed to start?"
Celeste pivoted on her snakeskin heels, her white-blond hair swooshing over her shoulder like a shampoo commercial. "Tomorrow. Well, tomorrow night for you. Rest up."
Rayne pressed her lips together, refusing to speak the rebuttals that formed on her tongue.
Two things came to mind as Celeste sashayed out of the lobby: One, if Rayne was going to survive her cousin's jaunt at the lodge, she'd need to memorize a few more perseverance quotes. And two, she wasn't about to allow Teddy to fall victim to Celeste's heartless business decisions. She'd make it right.
As one hour at the lodge ticked into the next, Rayne's dread of what was to come grew. The thought of working through the night, losing her sunlight, losing her connection to the guests, losing her monthly tea dates with her grandfather's oldest friend, Vilma Albright, was hard to swallow.
Duster in hand, Rayne brushed the feathers over one of the brass frames mounted on the family history wall off the lobby. William Shelby stared back at her through the glass. In his lifetime, he'd held many prestigious titles. Yet she knew if he were here now, he would tell her his most treasured position wasn't serving their state as governor-but rather, serving his family as grandfather. She considered his striking face: his predominant cleft chin, his meticulous mustache, his keen hazel eyes that concealed a plethora of wisdom. She'd spent hours studying this picture after he passed away, wishing he could talk back, wishing he could answer all her questions about her family.
The phone clipped to her waistband rang.
"Shelby Lodge, how may I assist you today?"
"Yes, my name is Miles Higgins and my wife and I have the Hayden Suite booked for Friday and Saturday night."
"Oh yes. I made that reservation myself-that's a beautiful suite."
"Well, unfortunately, we'd like to cancel our stay. Due to the fires."
"Oh?" Rayne set the duster down on the desk and went to the laptop. After logging in, she pulled up the most recent report on the fires and the air quality. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Higgins, and though I understand your concern, I'd like to assure you that the fires are still over seventy-five miles away, and with the river separating us, the threat to the lodge is minimal."
"We've been staying current on the reports, and to be honest, we just don't feel comfortable."
Rayne clicked away from the fire danger site and opened up the reservation calendar.
"Okay, I understand. Let me cancel this weekend out for you." She highlighted the reservation and deleted it. "May I reschedule you for a future date? Possibly for this fall? It's gorgeous at the lodge during the changing of seasons. I could even offer you a ten percent discount if you'd like to book today. We'd love the opportunity to have you and your wife as our guests."
"Absolutely. Thank you. Let me check with my wife on some dates and then call you back?"
"That would be fine. Thank you." Rayne clicked off the call and made a note to call the Higginses back if she didn't hear from them by the end of the week.
"Was that a cancellation?" Celeste stood before her, electronic tablet in hand.
Rayne let out a breath and straightened. "Yes, we've had several over the last couple weeks due to the smoke and proximity of the fires-"
"I didn't hear you mention the cancellation policy."
"Because I didn't."
Celeste pinched the framed red-letter policy on the desk and read it word for word. "All cancellations occurring within thirty days of the reservation between May first and September first are subject to a fifty percent cancellation fee."
"Yes, but the fires-"
"Should I read this to you again? It doesn't say barring natural causes. It's June twenty-sixth, Rayne. We are well inside the window to collect on those fees. Is this how you've been managing all our reservations?"
"Collecting fees should be secondary to repeat customers." Rayne pushed the words out, willing her quickening pulse to steady.
"Did you learn that while studying for your MBA-oh wait . . ." The perma pout on Celeste's lips quirked. "You never went to grad school." Her glower intensified. "Collect the fees, Rayne. And yes, consider this a warning."
The last two hours of her shift were much the same as the first six, excluding the thirty-minute noninteractive staff meeting held in the parlor at noon. Apart from that, everywhere Rayne turned, everything she did, was subject to Celeste's commentary and reprimands. And she hadn't been the only one. The hostile takeover had reached every corner of the lodge. While delivering a wine-and-cheese basket to a couple celebrating their thirtieth anniversary, Rayne overheard two of the housekeepers whispering behind a leafy plant-worried about their paychecks.
She wished she could reassure them, wished she could stop the gossip virus spreading through the staff like a flu bug. But how could she save them when she wasn't even sure she could save herself?
She was two steps away from the back door when Cal called her name. "I wanted to make sure you'd heard."
Dare she hope he'd fired the blond dictator so soon? Or maybe he'd changed her schedule back?
"I'll be heading to Boise tomorrow to meet with your father and his team. I need you to be available for Celeste-in case anything comes up. She's a sharp cookie, but I need to know I can count on the two of you while I'm away."
"The two of us?" It was the first time she'd heard the phrase. Did he really picture them working together-as in a partnership?
"You'll be the only Shelbys at the lodge. Don't disappoint me."
Whether from emotional exhaustion or unrestrained insurgence, the words slipped out before she could stop them. "I thought I already had."
Multiple times. In multiple ways.
His brow wrinkled. "There's no need to be childish."
Apparently he hadn't eavesdropped on any of Celeste's one-sided conversations today.
Rayne curled her toes in her shoes and plastered a Shelby-worthy smile on her face. "I'll be available if she has any questions."
He returned a fraction of the phony gesture. "Good. I'll check in by phone over the next few days. I plan to be back before the weekend. If things go well here while I'm away, I'll likely trek back and forth a few times over the next month."
As she pushed outside onto the path leading to her cabin, pressure built inside her lungs, smothering the remains of her positivity. The fresh air did nothing to cure her suffocating doubt, and it did nothing to release the tension coil of questions inside her mind. How long could she live like this? Had the race between her and Celeste even started? Were her tortoise legs even moving?
And worse . . . today was only day one.
There couldn't have been a lonelier realization in all the world.
She tugged open the door to her quaint cabin, seeking comfort-needing comfort. But the comfort she found inside wasn't attached to the familiar scent of lavender, the inconsistent drip of a leaky kitchen faucet, the couch she'd purchased with Gia last summer, or even the bookshelf of hardback classics she'd collected since high school. No, her gaze stilled on the plaid overshirt crumpled on the chair at her dining table.
Levi's shirt.
She'd pretended to ignore the shirt's tempting presence all weekend, the same way she'd pretended that their night together hadn't meant something significant. The same way she'd pretended to forget how Levi Harding had offered her a temporary respite from life's chaos.
She fingered the soft collar, remembering how the bottom corner had flipped up after he'd tossed the beanbag at Apple Adam. She'd wanted to smooth it-to fix it. Only, she hadn't been the one to fix anything that night. Ironically enough, she'd been the one to break things further.
She told herself it was just a walk. Just some time in nature to strategize and plan and maybe even pray. But her pace didn't slow when the grassy terrain shifted from manicured to untamed. She didn't look back, not at the ant-size lodge or the multitude of trees guarding her escape.
She simply kept walking until she reached the fence line of Winslow Farm. And for the second time in four days, Rayne crossed into forbidden territory.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
"You have got to be kidding me," Levi said around a tart bite of apple.
Yet there was little humor to be found in him as he watched Rayne Shelby through his upturned blinds. Sundress hiked to her knees, she slipped between the fence boards onto his side of the property divide. For a girl who'd made him feel like the equivalent of a roach on a shower-room floor just three nights ago, she had some nerve showing up here again.
Based on their history, her visit was about a decade too soon.
She conducted a traffic check of the farm, her gaze sweeping from left to right, her bottom lip tucked firmly between her teeth. She was right to be hesitant. She'd be even more right to go back home where she belonged.
He took another bite of his sour apple, his eyelid ticking as he chewed the bitter fruit. What more could she possibly want of him? He'd invited her into his world, extended a peace offering, and she'd wadded it up and thrown it back in his face at the first sign of discomfort.
Crazily enough, he regretted not listening to Travis's inebriated advice. But his friend had been right. He shouldn't have gone after Rayne at BlackTail. He should have minded his own business. Let her deal with her family drama on her own.
He strolled into his kitchen and pitched the apple core into the trash can. And then he heard a knock.
He didn't move. Not a single muscle.
She knocked again.
He faced the sound.
On her third knock, he strode for the door and yanked it open. "Does your uncle know you're here?"
Instead of shrinking back the way he'd envisioned, Rayne squared her shoulders. "The last time I checked-which was quite recently-I'm a grown woman. I can make my own decisions."
The sound of his words spoken through her pert lips nearly sprang the lock on his resolve. Yet no matter her plight, he wouldn't give in to her. Not this time. He wasn't interested. He leaned against his splintery doorjamb, hoping to appear unmoved by her presence on his front porch-the exact opposite of the full-throttle awareness that thrummed inside him at her nearness.