When Declan came back in, she pointed to a framed sheet of paper hanging on the wall that gave basic instructions for the campground and the Wi-Fi code. “How much of this is Tina’s idea and how much is Kurt’s?”
“It’s all Kurt. Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure narcissists wouldn’t think to provide all these supplies for people who’re only here for a few days.” Her mum was so wrong about him.
“Yep.” He dragged the back of his hand across his forehead. “Before he offered up his ranch, the shuttles would take people out to the lake to watch the fireworks and to the fair grounds for the art festival. That’s all it ever was until Kurt came up with the idea to show people what life was like back when his ancestors first populated the land. More recently, the Bowies added a stop at the old ghost town they turned into a living museum. They’ve got staged shootouts and costumed actors in Owl Hoot. And now they host concerts at the amphitheater there.”
“A living museum? That sounds amazing.”
“Kurt’s got costumed actors here, too. They do demonstrations like butter churning, horseshoes, glass blowing, and cheese-making. Shit like that. He’s got a pig race and a petting zoo. It’s very cool.”
“And the lemonade?” She wasn’t embarrassed anymore about that first night, and the grin he gave her was the reason why. This man seemed to like her no matter what she’d done or said.
“He sold bison burgers, fries, and lemonade. Kept it simple. Oh, and he rented an ice cream truck for the day.”
“That sounds so much fun. Did he do it back when I used to come here, do you think?”
“Yeah, definitely.” He shelved the last of the supplies and then went to check the electric and water hookups for each parking pad.
“I wish my memories were stronger.” She took in the acres of bright green alfalfa set against the dramatic backdrop of the mountain ranges. “I just don’t remember it being so beautiful out here.” She glanced over to find him watching her. “Nope. I know you want me to feel some connection to this land, but I don’t. I love the old photos, but only from a historical perspective. Sorry, but I don’t feel ties to the people in them.”
Coming up beside her, he set his hands on her shoulders. “In the eighteen-twenties, right over there…” He pointed into the distance. “There was a shack where the fur traders would hang their beaver pelts. You can see a photograph of it in the Reliquary Museum in town.”
The whisper of his breath across her cheek sent a shiver down her spine.
He gently guided her shoulders to make a slight turn. “Over there, that’s where the original homestead was. The five brothers each got a hundred-and-sixty-acre parcels from the government, and they took turns helping each other build log homes.” Letting her go, he folded his arms across that muscular chest. The navy T-shirt hugged his impressive biceps. “Very few people survived the harsh winters and short growing seasons out here, but the Grevers men stuck it out, buying up every plot of land they could get their hands on.”
“How did they do it, though? What set them apart?”
“I guess Kurt came by his stubbornness honestly.” He shrugged. “Maybe they just wanted it more than other people. I know one of them took a job with the forest service. One of the wives worked at the post office, and another was a schoolteacher. You can find all this out in the museum, but one way the settlers tried to make a go of their homesteads was to open their homes to travelers. That’s how the dude ranches came about.”
“It’s interesting, for sure, but I still don’t feel like it’s my family. Do you know what I mean?”
He glanced down at her, the warmth in his eyes cutting right through her confusion. “It will. That’s probably why you’re here for a month. To give you time. If you want, I’ll take you to the museum. It’s got a whole room of Grevers history.”
She wanted him to stay right there, to keep telling her stories, and it had nothing to do with learning about her family. He made her feel things. Things she never felt around Cameron. Or anyone. “You realize we’re in competition, right? This could all be yours.”
He pulled away. “You’re seeing the cash, but I know what this place meant to Kurt, the amount of time and energy he put into it. I know that he never gave up because his ancestors didn’t. Through grizzly attacks, raiding outlaws, long, dark, cold winters with the wind blowing through the cracks in their log cabins, none of them gave up.”
“I’ve never met anyone like you. Who would turn away the chance to have that kind of money?”
“A man who’d give his left nut to have your history.”
* * *
Phinny sat in the shade of the farm stand admiring her new products. With the right labels, these honey products would fly off the shelves. They were cute, wholesome, and delicious.
As she arranged crackers on a plate, a sleek, black Range Rover pulled off the road and onto the shoulder. The engine shut off, and the most fabulous pair of ostrich cowboy boots hit the ground. Long, lean, jeans-clad legs appeared, followed by a stunning, black leather Balenciaga bag.
The woman strutted over with her big Gucci sunglasses and Chanel Rouge Allure lipstick—the same red her mum wore. “Well, what do we have here?”
Phinny, in her cheap shorts and T-shirt, stood up. “Good morning. I’ve got pink lemonade…” Her hand swept across her table. “And delicious, locally-grown honey.”
The woman lifted her glasses onto the top of her head, holding back her glossy, dark hair. “The last time Kurt had a working farm stand, he let the Girl Scouts sell cookies. I bought thirty boxes.”
“Well, let’s hope you’re feeling just as generous today. Can I interest you in a treasure trove of honey products?” Phinny made a dramatic sweep of her hand.
The woman grinned. “Well, girl, I sure didn’t expect that kind of boldness delivered with a posh British accent.” She held her hand out. “I’m Glori Van Patten. Kurt was a good friend of mine for many years.” And then the smile faded, and her features softened. “You must be Seraphina.”
“That’s right.” She wanted to ask how she knew but given that Leddy had said she looked like Kurt, this woman must have seen the resemblance, too. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
The woman swept around the table and drew Phinny into her arms. “Honey, I am so sorry for your loss.”
Enveloped in a firm embrace and a cloud of Hermès perfume, Phinny stood a little awkwardly. “Thank you.”
The gorgeous woman pulled away. “It was such a shock. He didn’t tell a soul. Well, other than Tina. I just want to shake him, you know? For not telling me. For not giving me the chance to say goodbye.” She swiped a tear off her cheek. “Listen to me going off on him in front of his daughter.”
Surely, Glori knew they’d been estranged. “I’m sure you were closer to him than I was.”
“He was the love of my life.”
She said it so starkly, so plainly, Phinny was gobsmacked. She could only stare wide-eyed. In a million years, she wouldn’t put Kurt with this sophisticated, stylish woman.