At Bluebonnet Lake (Texas Crossroads Book #1): A Novel (28 page)

“You could be right. She sort of hinted that.” Kate blinked rapidly, making Greg wonder if she was trying to hold back tears. He laid his hand on hers and gave it a quick squeeze.

“I’m sorry to dump all this on you. It probably wouldn’t bother me so much if I weren’t worried about my job.”

That’s what Greg had thought, that the combination was overwhelming Kate. “Still no ideas?”

She shook her head. “Peanuts are not inspiring me. It’s strange. I like peanut butter, and Aunt Ivy’s is the best I’ve tasted. The problem is, I can’t figure out how to convey that to consumers. I need a compelling image, and the idea well is dry. I keep trying to prime it, but nothing helps.”

That was a problem Greg had never had. Ideas for new features to be added to the Sys=Simpl software had come easily. In fact, until he left the company, the problem had been deciding which ones were the most critical.

“You sound like a writer suffering from writer’s block.”

Kate smiled as the bird that appeared to be building a nest in the gazebo rafters flew by, a few strands of dried grass dangling from its beak.

“I don’t know any writers, so I can’t say. All I know is that what used to be easy isn’t this time.”

Greg wished Blake Kendall lived close enough for them to visit him. Perhaps he could help Kate. After all, the man made his living with words. “One of my college friends surprised me and became a writer. Of course, he maintains he’s never suffered from writer’s block.” Greg wasn’t sure whether that was true, but given the number of books Blake published each year, it could be. The man was both prolific and popular, with his books consistently hitting the major bestseller lists. At the time, Greg had thought writing an odd change of career for a financial planner, but it had obviously worked out well for Blake.

If Kate had been a rabbit, Greg would have said that her ears perked up. As it was, he saw the interest reflecting from her eyes. “He’s a lucky man. What does he write?”

“Thrillers.”

She wrinkled her nose, again reminding Greg of the cottontails his mother tried to banish from her flower beds. “I never understood the appeal,” Kate said with another nose wrinkle.

Greg wasn’t surprised. Blake had said that the majority of his readers were men, perhaps because graphic descriptions of murders did not appeal to many women. “I’m not an expert on thrillers, but what I like about Blake’s is that they tell the story of an ordinary man who is suddenly placed in extraordinary circumstances and needs to find a way to overcome evil.”

“Like Superman or Spiderman?” Doubt clouded Kate’s eyes as Greg watched her enthusiasm fade. Whatever had piqued her interest before was gone.

He shook his head. “Not at all. Blake’s hero has no superpowers, and he’s certainly not squeaky clean like Clark Kent. He’s a hard-drinking man who’s never far from a pack of cigarettes, but he’s also a chameleon. He has the ability to fit in everywhere. For example . . .” Greg launched into a description of Blake’s most recent release.

As she listened to his explanation, Kate’s expression changed. Something he’d said, and Greg had no idea what it might be, had chased her doubts away. Her eyes shone, and her smile was radiant.

“You’re a genius, Greg Vange. Thank you!” Her face flushed with excitement, Kate leaned forward and kissed him.

K
ate barely heard Greg’s voice. He was saying something about the hero of those thrillers his friend had written, but that no longer mattered. All that mattered were the ideas that whirled through her mind. She knew she’d never be able to explain how it had happened, but somehow the thought of Superman and the image of a chameleon had broken the dam that had blocked her creative thoughts as effectively as a real dam held back water. Now that the barrier had been breached, ideas were rushing through her brain faster than she could ever recall.

The image of Clark Kent changing from his mild-mannered, suited self into caped crusader Superman had triggered the idea of a humble peanut bursting out of its shell, transforming itself into a Thai-inspired main course, an elegant cake, a decadent mousse, or a succulent chowder. Kate closed her eyes, letting the images run rampant through her mind, and as she did, she envisioned the print and TV ads showing people savoring the dishes, while the tagline, “It’s Aunt Ivy’s peanut butter . . . naturally,” ran across the bottom of the page or the screen.

“That’s it,” she told Greg. “I know what I need to do, and it’s all thanks to you.” She blew him a kiss as she raced back to her cabin.

For the rest of the day and all through the night, Kate worked feverishly, sketching designs, drafting a marketing plan, and trying to anticipate every question either Heather or the Prestons might have. By the time Sally’s alarm rang, she had done everything she could. Now it was up to Heather.

Kate splashed cold water on her face and grabbed fresh clothes from her closet. Once Sally was finished in the bathroom, she’d take a quick shower.

Her grandmother emerged from her room, her hair tousled from sleep. She took one look at Kate and shook her head. “I don’t have to ask what you were doing last night.”

“Blame it on Greg. He’s responsible for the breakthrough.” Kate turned her laptop to show Sally one of the designs she’d been working on. “What do you think?”

As she had when Kate had been in school and had asked her to check her homework, Sally tipped her head to one side and scrutinized the screen. “It’s brilliant,” she said at last. “I’m not saying that just because you’re my granddaughter, either. Larry was right when he claimed you had a flair for advertising. He’d be as proud as I am.”

“I hope you’re right.” Grandpa Larry had never seen her professional work; Kate could only hope he would have believed that she had accomplished what he had urged and had lived up to her potential. “I hope my bosses and the clients like it too.”

“They will.” Sally nodded briskly and repeated, “They will.”

“I’m going to Dupree right after breakfast to send everything to Heather.” It was already too late to use the resort’s phone line, and even if she had wanted to do that, Kate knew it would take hours to transmit all of her designs. She needed the faster connection of Wi-Fi. “Do you want to come along?”

“No thanks, but I don’t think you should be driving.” Sally headed toward the bathroom. “You’d better ask Greg to take you.”

“I agree with your grandmother on both counts,” Greg said an hour later when Kate asked if he’d mind chauffeuring her into town. “The designs are great, and you shouldn’t be driving. You’ve yawned at least a dozen times in the last minute.”

It might have been an exaggeration, but he could see that Kate’s adrenaline rush was fading and that she was too tired to be behind the wheel. She’d get her second wind once she sent the files to her boss and started talking to the woman, but in the meantime, he didn’t want her driving. And, if he were being honest with himself, he was looking forward to spending time with her. He loved this happy, excited woman.

Greg smiled as she buckled the seat belt and leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes. Kate was more tired than she’d admit, but it was a well-earned fatigue. She’d solved the problem that had plagued her and had put her career back on track. She had found her direction. He only wished he could say the same.

When they reached the Sit ‘n’ Sip and had placed their orders, Greg waited until Kate started the transmission process, then took his coffee to the counter. She was still composing notes to her boss and didn’t need him watching over her shoulder.

Settling onto one of the backless stools, Greg shot a smile at the proprietor. No matter when he’d come into the diner, he’d seen Russ Walker behind the counter. If the man had employees, Greg wasn’t aware of it.

“Good morning, Mr. Walker.” Greg turned at the sound of Kevin Olsen’s voice. The teenager’s grin was wider than normal, but the faint tremor in his voice told Greg this was no casual visit.

“What can I get you?” Russ Walker asked.

Kevin made his way to the counter, folding his hands and placing them on top. “Nothing right now. I wondered if you needed any help. Things are a little slow at Rainbow’s End right now.”

That was an understatement. Though Greg had thought the resort might be full for Easter weekend, he, Kate, and Sally were the only guests.

Kevin gestured toward the tables. “I’m good at waiting tables. I can wash dishes too. In fact, I can do just about anything you need.”

The proprietor shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Kevin, but I’m afraid I can’t hire anyone right now.” His words rang with sincerity. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

Kevin left, his shoulders slumping.

“I hate to discourage the kid,” Russ said as he approached Greg with the coffeepot. “I know how much he needs the money.” With a quick look around the almost empty room, Russ added, “Don’t we all? I promised my wife we’d do something special for Easter, but there’s only two days left, and I don’t have any ideas.” Russ let out a sigh. “What am I saying? I’ve got lots of ideas, just not enough money to make them happen.”

Russ’s words touched Greg’s heart as deeply as Kevin’s disappointment had. “What did you have in mind?”

Russ shrugged. “A nice dinner for my wife—one she didn’t have to cook—a trip to the movies for my kids. Simple things, huh?”

Simple things that Greg had taken for granted for years. As he took another slug of coffee, ideas began to whirl through his mind, and he wondered if this was how Kate had felt yesterday when the mention of Superman and chameleons had sparked her imagination. All Greg knew was that for the first time since he’d left California, certainty had replaced doubt.

“I imagine most folks in Dupree want something like that,” he said as casually as he could.

Russ shrugged again as he held the pot of coffee over Greg’s mug. “Want a refill?”

Greg shook his head. “Not right now. I need to make a couple phone calls.” And he wasn’t about to do that where he could be overheard. Seeing that Kate was still working, he pulled his phone from his pocket and gestured toward it as he walked past Kate’s table. Seconds later, he was outside, grateful that for once there were no pedestrians in the immediate area.

“Have you ever considered renting out Rainbow’s End for a daytime event—no room rentals involved?” he asked Angela when she answered the phone.

“Tim and I’ve talked about it,” she admitted, “but no one’s been interested.”

“If someone were interested, what would you charge?” When Greg had answered her questions about how many guests would be involved and what kind of food he wanted, he heard her fingers clicking on the keyboard and guessed she was doing some quick calculations. A minute later, Angela gave him a number.

“That much, huh?” The figure she’d quoted sounded almost incredibly low, but that could be because Greg was used to California prices. “You drive a hard bargain,” he told her, “but you’ve got yourself a deal if Carmen can pull it off. Can you transfer me to her?”

The length of the delay told Greg that Angela was briefing Carmen on his request.

“How do you feel about throwing the biggest party of your life?” he asked when Rainbow’s End’s chef answered the phone. “Angela probably told you part of what I have in mind, including the fact that there’ll be a bonus for you, but here’s the important part.” He outlined the menu—menus, to be more precise—that he wanted. When Carmen agreed that they would be appropriate for the event he envisioned, she asked the key question.

“When?” Greg repeated her question. “Easter Sunday. And before you ask, I do mean this Easter. Two days from now.”

The lengthy silence was punctuated by a sigh and a volley of such rapid Spanish that he had no chance of understanding it.

“
Sí
,” she said at last. “I can do it.”

Greg was smiling as he disconnected the call, but his face sobered as he opened the address book on his cell. This would be the most difficult call.

“Hey, Drew,” he said as his former partner picked up the phone. “I hope I didn’t wake you.” Without waiting for a response, he continued speaking. “Didn’t you tell me you had some contacts in LA? Here’s what I need.”

When Greg finished outlining his request, Drew asked the question he’d expected: “Why would I help you?” Considering the way they’d parted, it was a valid question. “Because if you do this, Tuesday morning your in-box will have a list of possible features for a new release along with the names of the engineers who’d be the best bet to implement each one. Once you pick your top three, I’ll send you notes on key functionality and ways to implement them.”

Drew’s intake of breath told Greg he’d hooked him. “I need everything by five tomorrow. I don’t care whether you send it overnight or courier. Just get it here. And thanks, Drew. You won’t regret this.”

Nor would Greg. Though he had thought he’d severed all connections to the company he’d founded, believing the new owners were diluting Sys=Simpl’s brand appeal, what he hoped to accomplish at Rainbow’s End was more important than personal pride.

As Greg walked back into the diner, he found Kate sitting at the table, her laptop closed, her face wreathed in a smile.

“Your smile tells me everything went well.”

She nodded. “It did. Heather needs to discuss the pitch with
Nick, and she’s going to have Chase do a quick cost estimate for the media buys, but she liked the idea. A lot.”

Greg held out his hand and helped her to her feet. Giving her a quick hug, he said, “Wonderful! And now if you’re ready, we’ve got some folks to invite to a party.”