At Bluebonnet Lake (Texas Crossroads Book #1): A Novel (7 page)

Peeling paint, broken railings, and holes in window screens were the most obvious effects of years of neglect, but Kate suspected they were not the only problems. The water heater in their cabin made ominous clunks, and the lights had dimmed when Sally turned on her hair dryer. In all likelihood, the cabins hadn’t been upgraded in far more than the five years that the Sinclairs had owned Rainbow’s End.

“Was the gazebo here when you and Grandpa Larry visited?” Kate asked as she and Sally completed their circuit and returned to the heart of the resort. Directly across from the main lodge, the gazebo was a fanciful white building that probably vied with
the covered porches for shelter from the midday sun. When Sally shook her head, Kate realized that might be one reason why it wasn’t as dilapidated as the other buildings.

“Do you want to have our lunch here?” Though it was still another hour until noon, Kate hoped that by introducing the idea, she’d be able to convince Sally to rest. Her grandmother would undoubtedly deny it, but she had become visibly tired, her early morning pep seeming to have evaporated along with the dew.

Sally sank onto one of the benches that lined the inside of the gazebo and smiled. “That’s a good idea, but right now I’d like another cup of coffee. Do you think you can find one for me?”

Kate nodded, pleased that Sally had agreed to rest. “Carmen said there’s always some in the dining room. I’ll get us each a cup.”

When she returned bearing two covered paper cups, Kate found her grandmother staring into the distance, an enigmatic expression on her face. “Here you are.”

Sally turned, obviously startled. “Thank you, Kate.” She removed the cover and took a sip. “This is wonderful.”

“Carmen’s coffee is as good as everything else she makes.”

Sally took another sip, then shook her head. “I wasn’t referring to the coffee. It’s wonderful being here. This is a special place.”

A bird warbled somewhere in the closest live oak tree, then with a rush of wings flew to perch inside the gazebo. Kate looked up, wondering if she’d be able to identify it, but before she could form more than an impression of black-and-white feathers and a short beak, it flew away. Whether it was fanciful to think that the bird had checked out of Rainbow’s End almost as soon as it had checked in, Kate couldn’t help wondering if it was a metaphor for the resort’s guests.

“It may be special, but it needs a lot of work.”

Placing the cup on the bench next to her, Sally nodded. “I won’t deny that, but there’s so much potential. Rainbow’s End was once prosperous. It could be again.” She sighed and leaned back against the gazebo’s frame. “If I were forty years younger, I’d try to turn it around.”

Forty years ago that might have been possible. Now Kate wasn’t certain. “Everything’s different now. I’m not just talking about the economy. People want different things when they take a vacation. Even when they go to national parks, they’re looking for modern conveniences.”

“Like flat-screen TVs.” Sally’s words dripped with scorn.

“And wireless access, not to mention refrigerators and coffeemakers in their rooms.”

Sally straightened her shoulders and leaned forward, fixing her gaze on Kate. “You’re missing the point. Rainbow’s End is special precisely because it doesn’t have those things. Look around, Kate.” She gestured expansively. “Look at all it does have.”

“I’ll grant you that the setting is beautiful.” Kate had been impressed with the Hill Country as they’d driven from San Antonio to Dupree. The rolling hills, the lush green of the trees and grass, the occasional patch of wildflowers had all been beautiful, and Rainbow’s End seemed to have more than its share of that beauty.

“This is one of the prettiest lakes I’ve seen.” Kate’s first impression had been that it was a lake like any other, but as she and Sally had walked along its shore, she’d realized that Bluebonnet Lake was—to use her grandmother’s term—special. The rolling hills that seemed to extend to the very edge of the water and the small island in the center made it look as if it were something from a fairy tale.

“The problem is, the brochure said power boats and jet skis aren’t allowed on the lake. That doesn’t leave much to do.”

“Except enjoy the peace and quiet,” Sally countered.

“That’s all well and good.” Kate wouldn’t deny the appeal of peace and quiet in small doses. “Who’ll pay for that?”

Sally shrugged. “You’re the advertising maven. You figure it out.”

K
ate was still pondering her grandmother’s challenge when she arrived at the tennis court. Though Rainbow’s End needed much more than a new ad campaign, it couldn’t hurt to—

All thoughts of slogans and jingles fled from her brain at the sight of Greg striding toward the court. Surely his claim of lacking the sports gene was bogus. With legs as muscular as his arms, Greg was the picture of a Wimbledon champion. He’d even dressed for the role. Kate had changed into shorts, a tank top, and her cross trainers—nothing special about them—while Greg was wearing what appeared to be new tennis whites. Furthermore, he carried two obviously new racquets. She was definitely outclassed.

“I’m impressed,” Kate said when she saw the logo on the racquets. “I wouldn’t have expected Rainbow’s End to have such good equipment.” Though she was only a casual player, she knew enough about the sport to know that these racquets were competition quality. It was odd that so much else had been neglected here, yet the resort had top-notch tennis racquets. But perhaps it wasn’t so strange. Angela looked like a woman
who enjoyed sports. Maybe she played tennis and wanted good equipment.

“Does Angela—”

Before Kate could finish her question, a man called out a greeting to Greg, then ambled over to the court.

“I’m Tim Sinclair,” he said, extending his hand for a shake, “and you must be one of our new guests.”

Tim Sinclair was not what Kate had expected. When she’d met Angela, she had formed a mental image of her husband. Tim, Kate had thought, would be taller than average with an athletic build. She was wrong on both counts. Tim was no taller than his wife, which put him on the short side of average, and though Kate wouldn’t call him stocky, he was square. His face, his body, even his hands were square.

“Kate Sherwood,” she said, noticing that Tim had a firm shake and that he looked her in the eye.

“Welcome to Rainbow’s End. I hope you enjoy your stay.” He eyed the racquets but said nothing.

When he’d left, Kate turned to Greg. “Where did you get them?”

Greg shrugged, the movement tightening his polo shirt and accenting his shoulders.

“You bought them, didn’t you?”

He shrugged again. “Guilty as charged. The ones I found in the shed were practically antiques. They had wooden frames and needed to be restrung. It seemed like a better idea to buy new ones. Besides, Ryan Wheeler was glad for the business.”

“You found them in Dupree?”

He nodded. “Dupree might be a small town, but it has some top-of-the-line merchandise. Surprising, isn’t it?”

What was surprising was that a man who was unemployed would spend so much money. The clothing couldn’t have been cheap, and the racquets certainly were not. Surely he should be
conserving money, since he didn’t appear to be actively looking for a new position. Greg Vange was an enigma.

Kate took a deep breath, trying to slow her heartbeat. It was silly the way it accelerated when she was around this man. She hadn’t felt this way around Pete or Lou, the two men she’d dated seriously. Being with them had been comfortable. They’d enjoyed the same activities, moved in the same circles. Not once had Kate considered playing tennis with them, and not once had either one made her breathless.

Greg was different. Though his name sounded vaguely familiar, Kate couldn’t put her finger on the reason. Perhaps she should google him. At a minimum, she could check Facebook to see if he had a page. That was what she did for potential clients. But the simple fact was, Kate had never liked the idea of researching her friends. Even though they would go their separate ways and probably not see each other again when April ended, she hoped she and Greg could be friends for the month. No googling, no online sleuthing. She would wait to see what Greg told her.

He extended one of the racquets to her. “How does it feel?”

Kate wrapped her hand around it, somehow not surprised that it was a perfect fit. Greg had shaken her hand only once, but that seemed to have been enough for him to guess her hand size.

“I feel as if I ought to be at Wimbledon,” she told him. “There’s only one problem: the racquet is far better than I am.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, and she wondered whether he was downplaying his own prowess. “So, we’ll practice. Let’s get started.”

Greg took his position on one side of the net, waiting for her to serve the ball to him. Within a few seconds, Kate realized that he hadn’t lied. He wasn’t any better than she was. Half the balls hit the net; the majority of the rest went out of bounds,
but the few times they managed to volley felt good. There was an unexpected satisfaction in being able to return a serve, even though Kate knew that tomorrow her arms and legs would protest the unusual exercise.

Her regular workouts at the gym hadn’t prepared her for tennis. Half an hour of running around the court, stretching to hit a ball and bending down to retrieve the ones she’d missed, had left her more winded than her usual routine. What she needed now was a hot tub.

Kate glanced around. There was plenty of space between the tennis court and the closest cabins to put a hot tub. If she owned Rainbow’s End . . . but she did not.

“That was fun,” she told Greg as she accepted the towel he pulled from his bag and dabbed at her face.

“Enough fun to do it again tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Her muscles might protest, but she wasn’t going to give up the opportunity to burn calories in such an enjoyable way. Playing tennis with Greg was decidedly more fun than running on the treadmill at her gym.

He reached back into his bag and withdrew two bottles of water, handing one to her. Instinctively, she turned the bottle to read the label.

“Something wrong?”

Kate shook her head. “No. I just wondered what brands were available here. My firm does the advertising for a competitor.”

A frown crossed his face, deepening the green of his eyes. “It’s hard to escape work, isn’t it?”

Greg sounded as if he understood, confirming her belief that whatever he had done before he’d come to Rainbow’s End, it hadn’t been a nine-to-five-forget-the-job-when-you-walk-out-the-door position. The truth was, Kate hadn’t thought of the office once while they’d been playing. If anything, she’d spent
more time today worrying about Sally and Rainbow’s End than she had her clients.

“Work’s an important part of my life.” When Greg merely nodded, Kate continued her explanation. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am. If things go right, I may be made a partner by the end of the year. That’s been my dream ever since my grandfather took me to work with him.”

She and Grandpa Larry had left their coats in his cubicle, then had toured the office. Though ten-year-old Kate had been impressed by the drafting tables and the conference rooms lined with pictures of the firm’s most successful ads, it was the end of the tour that had defined her life. When Grandpa Larry had shown her the partners’ offices with their fancy furniture and the view of Lake Erie, Kate had known that was what she wanted. She hadn’t looked back since.

Greg didn’t appear impressed. “What happens after you make partner? What’s the next rung on the ladder?”

Kate flinched. “I don’t know.” But she ought to.

Greg yanked the drawer open with more force than necessary, then stared at the socks, as if choosing the right pair would qualify him for an international award. He grabbed a pair of brown socks, then tossed them back and looked at the remaining ones.

Unlike Kate, he hadn’t worried about climbing the corporate ladder. When you owned the company, there was no ladder. You were the top. But he’d done the same thing Kate was doing, setting increasingly challenging goals for himself. Unlike Kate’s, his didn’t involve titles or responsibility; they focused solely on money. One million, then the next, then the elusive billion. And when he’d reached that milestone, he’d taken Drew’s advice and sold the company, netting himself more money than he’d
dreamed possible. By any standard, Greg was wealthy. Filthy rich, some would say. The question was, what did he have to show for it?

He hadn’t squandered the money. Most of it was invested, growing daily while he repaired buildings at a down-at-the-heels resort and played tennis with the most attractive woman he’d ever met. He’d spent some, but it had been wisely spent. Thanks to him, his family’s life was a little easier. He’d set up trust funds to pay for his sisters’ college expenses, and Mom had reported that his father seemed to enjoy the big-screen TV that had been Greg’s Christmas present to them.

There was nothing wrong with what he’d done, either the accumulation of wealth or the way he’d spent a tiny fraction of it. Admittedly, the money hadn’t bought him the one thing he’d longed for as he’d been growing up, but he hadn’t expected it to. Though his sisters might disagree, there were some things money could not buy.

Greg was proud of what he’d accomplished. He’d worked hard, and he’d been rewarded for that hard work. But there was more to life. He knew that as surely as he knew that Kate Sherwood’s eyes were brown. What wasn’t clear was what that “more” was. That was why he was here: to discover what God had in store for him.

Abandoning hope of choosing a pair of socks, Greg slid his feet into sandals, then reached for his laptop. Shaking his head, he pictured Kate’s expression if she could see him. Like her, he’d been thinking of work when he’d downloaded messages earlier today. It was time to read them.

Greg scanned the contents of his in-box. Only three new messages. The first two were from two of his sisters. Nineteen-year-old Taylor had been invited to a dance at some fancy country club and needed a new dress. Greg raised his eyebrows at the cost, then opened Jessica’s note. The second oldest of the
four girls had blown out a tire and had to buy a complete set. He’d transfer the money to them tomorrow. Fortunately, neither Ashley nor Emily had any requests. That left the final message, the one from Drew.

He clicked it open and frowned. It was short and succinct, typical Drew. “We need to talk,” it said. “Call me.”

Greg wouldn’t.