Starting over...

with her ex-fiancé’s brother?

Winter Kingfisher only wanted to protect the nature reserve in her hometown of Sweetwater, Tennessee. But after a political scandal lands her family on the front pages and costs Winter her PR job at the reserve, and her engagement, she needs to rebuild. Enter handsome Caleb Callaway, who’s arrived to oversee a construction project meant to make amends of his own. Caleb was already part of Winter’s past...can he also be her future?

CHERYL HARPER discovered her love for books and words as a little girl, thanks to a mother who made countless library trips, and an introduction to Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House stories. Whether stories she reads are set on the prairie, in the American West, Regency England or on Earth a hundred years in the future, Cheryl enjoys strong characters who make her laugh. Now Cheryl spends her days searching for the right words while she stares out the window and her dog, Jack, snoozes beside her. And she considers herself very lucky to do so. For more information about Cheryl’s books, visit her online at cherylharperbooks.com or follow her on Twitter, @cherylharperbks.

Also by Cheryl Harper

Harlequin Heartwarming

Otter Lake Ranger Station

Her Heart’s Bargain

Saving the Single Dad

Smoky Mountain Sweethearts

Lucky Numbers

A Home Come True

Keeping Cole’s Promise

Heart’s Refuge

Winner Takes All

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Her Unexpected Hero

Cheryl Harper

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09601-0

HER UNEXPECTED HERO

© 2019 Cheryl Harper

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“The only Kingfisher I’m concerned with is you.”

Caleb bent his head closer. “And the only Callaway I want you to relate to is me.” Something clicked as soon as he admitted that. It was true, so true, but his emotions didn’t matter unless Winter felt the same.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to support the arts in Sweetwater.” Winter took a step closer and tugged on his jacket. “The gallery could use a wealthy benefactor like you to attend the grand opening next Saturday. Bring your checkbook, of course.”

“I’ll be there.” He needed to go. She should walk back inside where it was warm, but she wasn’t moving away. Not even after he gave her the answer she wanted.

“But don’t buy the bunny painting. That one’s mine.” She smiled up at him and it was impossible to stop. Caleb bent his head slowly, carefully, and pressed his lips against hers.

Dear Reader,

When you think of home, does a certain place come to mind? For me, it’s the house I grew up in, my mother on the couch with a book and a beagle at her side or my father’s truck winding along mountain back roads. The places we love shape us.

For Winter Kingfisher, the mountains of eastern Tennessee are her first love and she’ll fight to protect them, even if it means losing everything she’s worked for. Caleb Callaway has orders to challenge Winter and her resistance to the Callaway family’s plans. I hope you enjoy reading how well that works out for him!

To find out more about my books and what’s coming next, visit me at cherylharperbooks.com.

Cheryl

This one’s for my parents.

They’re gone, and I miss them and home

every day, but I’m grateful for deep, deep roots.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

“DOES ANYONE ELSE smell that...?”

Winter Kingfisher glanced up from her phone as Macy Gentry paused to take suspicious whiffs of the air over their corner booth at The Branch, the answer to nightlife in Sweetwater, Tennessee. It was Friday night, prime time for fun and rowdy crowds, but still so early that the first unofficial get-together of Sweetwater’s single ladies was tame. Subdued. Almost boring.

The way first dates or professional networking opportunities can be.

Scanning blog posts and headlines, hunting for either the Kingfisher or Callaway name had distracted Winter from the awkward silence in the booth. Not to mention any untoward odor.

News of her part in ending an engagement with the man planning to be governor had had a longer life cycle than she’d imagined. For almost a decade, she’d worked with her fiancé, Whit Callaway, Jr., in Knoxville’s political arena to make sure all his press was favorable. Going head-to-head against the Callaways, one of the wealthiest families in Tennessee, in order to save her brother’s job as head ranger of the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve had meant she’d returned the ring and landed both Kingfishers on the front pages.

Unfortunately, the coverage varied wildly from favorable to “literally the worst,” but it had taken a turn for the better for the Kingfishers. She was the scorned woman. The innocent one. Her brother, Ash, had rightfully become a hero again. Whit Callaway’s campaign had faltered.

Was saving The Aerie worth the hassle of canceling a society wedding, losing her job and her plans for the future?

Winter shifted on the hard wooden seat and tried not to focus too closely on the answer to that question.

After two months, Winter could feel her chance to directly challenge Whit’s political campaign evaporating. Getting even was not the Kingfisher way, but what about a little payback?

But instead of forcing her way onto his opponent’s strategy team, what was she doing? Rusticating at home and not much else.

Well, other than reading about Governor Richard Duncan’s terrible record on education and teacher pay while she waited for this first get-together to be over. Could she help this guy win reelection? Yes.

But should she?

It would serve Whit right for not listening to her. If he’d stopped his family’s plan to develop a lodge at The Aerie and destroy one of the most important areas of the reserve she loved, they would still be together. He would still be winning, and Winter would be by his side in Knoxville.

Not here, where she definitely did not seem to be winning anything.

Governor Duncan needed better advice. The solution: a Kingfisher heading up his reelection campaign. Win-win. For her, at least.

“I’m not sure exactly what it is, but it’s flowery. What is that?” Macy sniffed again. “Roses?”

Before Winter could change the subject, Christina Braswell stood. “Hamburgers all around. Don’t waste your time with anything else on this menu. Trust your waitress friend to know.” She marched over to the bar and returned with a tray of drinks and hamburgers in baskets.

Macy craned her neck, clearly searching for the fresh spring meadow tickling her nose. Since her brother’s girlfriend and coworker at the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve had become a staple at Kingfisher family dinners, Winter knew there was no way Macy would let it go until she had the answer.

“Lavender.” Winter tugged her denim jacket and patted the large Choose Duncan Again button she had pinned to the lapel. “The fragrance is lavender. My mother grows a lot of it. If she has a signature scent, it’s lavender.”

All the women at the table turned to face her.

Christina held up a frosty mug in a salute. “She does speak. So far, the only forms of communication I’ve seen have been glaring at your phone and sighing. Your brother is a better conversationalist and he mainly speaks in single syllables.”

The criticism hurt, even if it was true. Neither she nor Ash were known for their easygoing personalities or sparkling conversation. Smarts—yes. Determination—yes. Easygoing charm? Not so much.

“I’ve got a lot going on right now,” Winter snapped and then realized it was so untrue. “Or I should have, I guess. I don’t have a job yet. No one on Governor Duncan’s reelection campaign will answer my calls, so that shoots my whole ‘make a difference in Tennessee politics’ plan in the foot. My engagement to a perfect man from a wealthy family destined for the White House is... Yeah, if you can read a newspaper or blog, you already know all about that. The smell? It’s lavender. My mother insists that I use the shampoo she makes herself from the organic ingredients she grows in her garden. Does it smell nice? Yes. Does it lather? No. Does it do anything other than strip every bit of gloss and shine from your expensive haircut?” Winter poked the frizzy fall of dark hair over her ear. “Hard to say. I’m still only a month into the experiment. It may totally remove every hair from my head. That’s the way life is going right now.”

You’re griping about shampoo. Your whole life is wrecked, but what you complain about is the state of your hair.

Yes. I deserve to complain.

Oh, poor baby. Rich husband fell through, and all that schooling and job experience have left you at the mercy of... What, again?

Angel on one shoulder, self-doubt and pity on the other. That was why she was exhausted.

For half a second, Winter was relieved to let off some of the pressure of the worries boiling in her brain. Then regret washed over her. Letting people know she was struggling was an un-Kingfisher thing to do. Her family handled their own problems.

Christina’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, you do have a lot going on right now, up there in your brain, anyway.” She pointed a french fry around the table. “But Winter Kingfisher can spin all that on a dime. You know it. We know it. Some of us have halfheartedly resented you for it for decades, ever since they stood in your ‘most likely to succeed’ shadow.” Christina nudged her burger closer. “Take a bite. Take a breath. We can help. Some of us are professionals at picking up the pieces after everything falls apart.”

Christina had nailed her problem right on the head. Winter should be above this...floundering. The fact that the bad girl of Sweetwater was giving her a pep talk took some consideration, but Winter appreciated it. She picked up her drink and took a sip because she couldn’t decide whether to agree or disagree, and that ambivalence was irritating. She’d never hesitated in her life.

Now, having someone order her dinner for her was a relief.

“When Astrid and I first started planning this get-together, I had a much rowdier vision in mind. Young, single women. On the town. A bar with real choices other than beer and light beer. With all the excitement over the showdown with the Callaways about the proposed lodge at Otter Lake and the...” Breakup. That was the missing word. Macy shot a worried glance at Winter before straightening in her seat. “Holiday. Christmas slowed us down, but I’m glad everyone could get together tonight.” She jammed her straw three times to loosen the ice in her drink and glanced toward the bar. “When we get on a regular schedule, we can move this out of town. The Branch is our starting point, not where we end.”

The petite blonde seated across from Astrid, Leanne Hendrix, said, “I’m happy to have a chance to get out.” She tugged on the shoulder of her T-shirt, the hot-pink uniform of Sweetwater Souvenir, the shop she’d been asked to run. “I’d rather sit here quietly with you guys than clean my apartment and binge-watch some television show.”

More awkward silence stretched over the table, but Winter silently agreed. She’d had to come to terms with the fact that she needed new friends. More friends.

“That’s it. We aren’t going to let gossip keep us apart, not anymore.” Christina slapped her hand on the table. “In fact, let’s come up with a name. It’ll be like our little club then. We could do jackets.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Macy drawled. “Let’s start small. Dinner. A successful dinner.” She pointed at Winter. “This girl is half a second from bailing on us, and we haven’t even eaten our burgers yet. Let’s make it through one night.”

Christina rolled her eyes. “Fine. You want to start small, we’ll start small.”

Something about her exasperation amused Winter. She wasn’t alone. Finally, their booth’s atmosphere was closer to being a party than an interview going badly. How long had it been since she had giggled like that?

When everyone turned to look at her again, Winter said, “You guys would be off to a better start without me. I’m not in the mood to party lately. I should get my burger to go.”

Before she could stand, Macy grabbed her hand and held tight. “You are staying. You’re eating. And if you want to talk about everything that has gone wrong or could go wrong or will go wrong or how you’re going to conquer the world next, we are here to listen to it. You may have been too cool for all this before, but I am not. I want to be able to call someone when I need to talk about things. This is why we need girls’ nights out.” She shook her finger at Christina. “That is not the name of our group.”

“Eat your burger. Burgers make everything better.” Christina waved hers and took a big bite, staring around the table until everyone followed suit.

“You could smuggle your own shampoo into the bathroom.” Macy pressed a hand to the center of Winter’s back and ran it in small circles, her expression one of extreme concern. “Before I got to know you so well, I was pretty sure you were too cool to notice my existence. A lot of that had to do with how amazing your hair was. Sleek. Shiny. Every day. Like magic.”

It took Winter a second to realize they’d returned to her shampoo challenges, and the good hair was in the past tense. She understood the impulse. On the list of problems she had, it should be the easiest to solve.

Winter’s whole life had fallen apart, and Macy was ready to cry over her hair. That was how well her mother’s shampoo was working. Every time Winter stared in the mirror now, she was reminded that life had taken a fuzzy, out-of-control detour.

“I could, but it’s pretty clear when I use my own stuff. The fact that I can run a brush through it gives me away. The lectures you get for bringing plastic bottles into my mother’s house, and on the expense of salon shampoos, and the devastating research some companies perform on animals, although not mine, because I did my own research and paid twice what I needed so I could use it with a clear conscience but whatever, Mother... All that together?” Winter snatched the butterfly clip holding her bangs back out of her hair. “Nobody has time for that every day, not even the unemployed.”

Clearly, her new friends were not quite certain how to react, but their small smiles and twitching lips were another reason to laugh.

And that felt good.

“I never appreciated the small things before,” Winter said, “but the small things have gotten much, much larger lately.” The tiny pinch of the butterfly clip she’d stolen from her mother’s stuff was easy to focus on.

“Any idea how long you’ll be staying with Mom and Dad?” Macy asked. “Ash has room in his cabin and there’s a couch in my living room. The space isn’t much, but you’re welcome to it. And there’s no way I’ll lecture you about your shampoo.” Macy lowered her voice, and added, “Unless you won’t let me use it, too.”

Christina elbowed her in the side affectionately.

“What? She has good stuff. Her hair was legendary.” Macy held both arms out to the ladies as if to say no one in town would blame her. “Before all this, I could hardly talk to Winter because she was so...together.”

Before. Macy didn’t have to explain before what.

That was something else everyone at the table knew.

Before the governor had read the environmental-impact report of the new lodge being planned for the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve and decided to attack his political opponent, Whit Callaway, Jr., over the damage to Tennessee’s resources and history.

Before the lodge, which the Callaways were pushing through on the land they owned but held in reserve for citizens and voters in Tennessee, stalled and they turned on the head ranger, her brother, Ash.

Before Whit had threatened her brother and led Winter to end their engagement and showed his true colors.

Before she’d begged Caleb Callaway, Whit’s brother, to fix everything, except her job and her engagement.

Winter had had it all together before that.

Begging was not an option for Winter Kingfisher, but she’d done it for the reserve and her brother, and a chance to keep the life she’d set up.

She’d been the public outreach officer for the reserve. She’d been juggling Whit’s campaign with one hand and a society wedding with the other.

Now her hair was a mess, although it had nothing on the rest of her life.

“This is temporary.” Winter had repeated the same words to herself so many times she was beginning to wonder if they had lost all meaning. “First, I find a job. Since both the reserve and politics seem to be out of the question...” This was where she stalled time and again. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“I have all the time in the world for you at the library. Unpaid volunteering doesn’t help with the money, but the kids love your story times. You would not believe how many crayon drawings of Rabbit tricking Possum I’ve seen since you told that story two months ago. It’s like you have some special connection to them.” Astrid narrowed her eyes. “Have you ever considered teaching?”

Winter’s immediate panicked reaction, complete with shaking her head so hard her frizzy hair whizzed in front of her face, had them all fighting back grins, until Astrid drawled, “Okay, crossing that off the list.”

“I like to tell stories. Kids love stories.” Winter balled up her napkin. “That doesn’t make me a teacher. Teachers mold young minds and keep them in their seats. Storytellers waltz in, capture their attention and waltz back out. Me? In front of a classroom all day long? I’d either arrange them into military formation or take cover under my desk. Either way, it would end in tears for one of us.”

“Not teaching. Not the reserve. How are you with food orders?” Christina asked. “The campground is staffed, but this place could use some help.” She wrinkled her nose. “Your tips would be better if you could fix your hair, though.”

“I was a hostess at a restaurant in Knoxville all the way through college.” Winter studied the beat-up interior of The Branch. Surely she could manage drink orders and the limited menu here. “How different could it be?”

As she glanced back at her companions, no one seemed convinced. Before she could argue that she’d discovered quickly how to suggest appetizers and the perfect pairing of wine, Leanne leaned forward. “The skills are different here, hon. Are you good with your hands?”

“Like, writing?” Winter mimed holding a pen and scribbling on a small notepad.

“That and often picking up broken things.” Leanne motioned at the big, noisy crowd of fishermen that had come in.

Sweetwater depended on the tourists attracted to the area by the nature reserve’s trails, campground and lake. During the busy summer season, the main street through town enjoyed a steady stream of families shopping for souvenirs and breakfast, lunch and dinner. Late February was slow on Otter Lake, but there were still groups of folks that visited the campground for a weekend away. Since this was the only place in town serving beer, The Branch was must-see Sweetwater for nightlife.

“Have you searched for jobs in Knoxville or Nashville?” Macy asked. “I know your parents want you here, but the options open up in the city.”

She had, but Knoxville was too close to Whit, and Nashville wasn’t close enough to Otter Lake. Moving there might open up a spot for her on Richard Duncan’s campaign team, since she clearly had the insider info on Whit Callaway, but there was no safety net in Nashville. No Otter Lake, either.

On the other hand, in Nashville, she wouldn’t have to worry about every person she passed on the sidewalk, neighbors who’d known her for her whole life, wondering how she’d messed up everything so spectacularly.

“I’d like to find something here. For now. Later...” Winter let the sentence trail off. If she managed to win a spot on the governor’s team, Nashville would have to work. Until then, she’d stay home. She loved this place—the reserve’s beauty, the stories of the people who grew up there—and all she’d ever wanted to do was teach other people to love it, too. Working for the reserve and plotting Whit’s race to win the state capital had been a solid plan. “I can wait tables. I’ve always been a good multitasker.”

“You could pick it up, for sure. And the tips are decent. Unfortunately, the urge to drink them all away means no working here, not for me.” Leanne turned her root beer in a slow circle. “I could talk to Janet. She mentioned finding a part-time salesperson for the art gallery she’s opening next to the souvenir shop.”

When everyone nodded and pointed in relief, as if they’d been certain she’d be a failure at waiting tables, Winter tried not to take it personally. She’d once taken success as a guarantee, but right now she was riding a wave of disappointment. All things considered, the art gallery was a better alternative for her than delivering burgers and beer.

“Better to have two chances than one. I’ll ask Sharon on the way out if she needs any help waiting tables.” Winter nodded at the fake smiles surrounding her. “And I’ll call Janet on Monday to find out if she’s hiring. I need more than one option in this job market. I handled a lot before. I can do both of these things.” They nodded, so she did, too.

And she immediately felt better. Having a plan had always soothed her concerns.

To do anything more, she had to smooth out her life. Winter tugged her fingers out of her tangled hair, resolved to get herself together.

When the Callaways were faced with opposition to their plans to build at the reserve, they had targeted her brother as the villain of the story. Because of them, Ash had faced public criticism and the potential loss of his job as head ranger.

Even though they’d had no real proof of his guilt.

And after she’d spent years at Whit Callaway, Jr.’s side. Their engagement hadn’t stopped the drive to punish Ash.

Winter might have expected that from Senior, who valued the family’s standing above almost anything. That was business. Her anonymous release of the environmental-impact plan to the governor had been the same. Just business.

But the fact that her fiancé had gone along with his father’s efforts to hurt Ash? That’s where the pain came in.

Her best revenge would be to get so stinking happy that Whit Callaway gnashed his teeth when he remembered her. To do that, she had to get out of her parents’ house. Obviously.

She had a life to rebuild.

CHAPTER TWO

CALEB CALLAWAY WAS certain no man his age should still be summoned to the dinner table like a rebellious teenager. Living in Nashville meant he could come and go as he pleased most of the time. Until a few months ago, he’d dropped in at the family manse whenever the mood hit. His mother celebrated every visit. His stepfather disapproved of his choices, and his brother turned everything into a competition. Going home was work. Holidays were a requirement. Every other day of the year, he lived well and visited the Knoxville Callaways when it was convenient.

Then Winter Kingfisher had barged into his office, tilted his world sideways with her passion for the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve and her own family, and convinced him to be some kind of hero. At that point, the Callaway family welcome mat had been rolled up and locked away.

Not even Christmas had brought about a thaw in the standoff. He’d spent it in Hawaii. Alone. The less-crowded beaches had been nice. Realizing that he was traditional enough to want cold and snow and fireplaces and Christmas ham served at his mother’s table had been surprising.

The discovery that all the acquaintances who liked to eat out on his reputation and credit dried up like snow in Waikiki the minute Callaway money disappeared had surprised him more than it should have.

Getting caught in the mess between the Kingfishers and the Callaways hadn’t been his idea, and being drafted to run the lodge project had seemed a long shot.

His stepfather, Whitney Callaway, Sr. ran Callaway Construction. Always had, always would, and the two of them got along better with miles separating them.

The longer his family’s silence had dragged, the more Caleb had been convinced Senior had realized the error of his decision to make building the lodge his stepson’s penance for interference. Senior liked control. He wouldn’t give that away.

But something had changed and his stepfather had made a personal call to tell him to come for dinner. Tell, not ask. Senior never had been much for asking. That was most of their problem: communication.

The fact that he was parked next to a fountain complete with a spitting fish, the centerpiece of his parents’ ornate oval driveway, uncertain of his welcome for the first time in his life, was Winter’s fault.

Well, hers and his own uncharacteristic generous streak that had made it impossible to tell her no when she’d asked for the favor that had gotten him in this mess.

Irritation that he’d been shoved into the middle of Callaway drama threatened to boil over until Caleb had thrown on the brakes. He’d made his own choices. Were they heavily influenced by a beautiful woman? Sure. And if he ever met Winter again, he’d make sure she understood how she’d upended his life.

For now, dinner.

“Come on, man. The sooner this begins, the quicker it’s all over, and life goes on, right back on the road to Nashville,” he muttered to himself. Caleb ran a hand down the silk tie he’d added at the last minute, then grabbed his suit coat off the hanger in the back seat. Showing up to his mother’s house for dinner without a jacket would lead to Extreme Displeasure, Caleb’s nickname for the tight-lipped frown Senior often gave him. His stepfather was committed to upholding the family’s stature, and that required dressing for dinner like Victorian royalty.

Dinner was going to be rough, but the only way back to normal was through the fire. Senior would say he’d changed his mind and could trust no one else with the completion of The Aerie lodge. Caleb would nod in serious understanding while sighing inwardly in relief, and life would go on.

Before he slid out of the SUV, Caleb judged the distance between his parking spot and the gates at the street. “One minute or less. I could be free.”

Caleb pulled the keys out of the ignition, stretched out the kinks and slipped on the jacket. Then he noticed the mud on his boots.

He’d stopped on the way out of Nashville to tour a land parcel with Mitch Yarborough, luxury home developer and father to Caleb’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, Melissa. Caleb could still feel the hard thump of his heart when Mitch had offered him the chance to be the builder of every lot in the gated community. The key words were state of the art, high end and best of the best.

“Four months.” He had that long to add to his crews in order to be launched into Nashville’s big-time home-construction firms. Was it too soon to tell his stepfather?

This was the challenge he’d been dreaming of for years. His right hand, Carlos Lopez, was ready to lead his own crew, but meeting payroll after doubling his team would be tough in the beginning. Summit Builders would struggle under the bills. A loan of Callaway cash would make it all easier.

Tonight wasn’t the right time to ask for money, but it was tempting to spread his good news.

After a hurried dig through the back seat, Caleb found a brush and did his best to knock the mud off his boots. Would it escape their notice? No way, but at least he wouldn’t leave any evidence behind.

“Good enough.” Caleb tossed the brush back onto the floorboard and slammed the door. As he rounded the bumper, the front door to the Georgian-style family mansion swung open. Instead of a maid, his mother was framed beautifully by the glowing fanlight and transom windows.

“I wondered if you were going to come inside or make a break for it.” His mother kissed his cheek as he paused in front of her. The familiar scent of her perfume would always carry him home.

“Me, too. It was touch and go.” Caleb shoved his hands in his pockets, aware all over again of how he didn’t belong here. “Thank you for the dinner invitation.”

With a heavy sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him close. In his mother’s arms, he might as well be nine years old again, brokenhearted after striking out in the last inning of the game. Whatever was wrong, his mother had always been able to make right.

“It’s been too long, son. Don’t stay away so long.” His mother’s pointed stare at his feet was accompanied by an almost inaudible sigh. “You came from work. The tie is nice, but it does not go with this jacket.” She wiggled her arm through his and pulled him inside.

“I didn’t sign up for a fashion show, Mom.” Caleb smoothed a hand down the tie again, glad to have it, even if it didn’t go with the jacket. Flannel and denim. That was his dress code. If Summit hit the big-time, maybe he’d transition to khakis and golf shirts with logos.

“Thank you for observing the bare minimum,” she said mildly before moving along. “Your brother and father are in the office, no doubt plotting world domination. Please tell them dinner will be served in ten minutes.” She gave him a gentle shove toward Senior’s stuffy office and then disappeared behind the swinging door leading to the butler’s pantry.

“I should stand right here for nine minutes and thirty seconds,” Caleb muttered. He’d expected more emotion from his mother. In a battle between him and the other Callaways, she’d always landed in the middle, a disputed territory until they negotiated a surrender. Her face had been serene, nothing but happiness showing. “Maybe Senior has forgiven me.”

At some point, he’d stop squirming like a kid at his stepfather’s displeasure. He should be immune to the unease.

Today was not that day, but he’d learned a long time ago not to show nerves.

Senior had inherited power and wealth, but what he’d built through guts, determination and solid planning was a lot to live up to.

Caleb straightened his shoulders and marched into the oppressively dark room lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes no one in the house had ever read. This was an office, a study, an important room; it should have nice, expensive things, according to Senior. He was enthroned behind a grand desk, while Caleb’s younger brother, Whit, paced in front of the fireplace. Before Caleb could say anything, Whit tossed the newspaper he’d been reading into the fire.

“Mom says dinner in T minus ten.” Caleb paused in front of the desk. He remembered his spot on stage well. When they both turned toward him, it was impossible to ignore the overwhelming vibe in the room. Anger. Neither of them had forgiven him his part in stopping the lodge at the reserve.

“Good. Time enough to cover business and keep your mother happy with a nice family dinner.” His stepfather braced his elbows on his desk. “You’ve dragged your feet long enough on the reserve’s lodge project, Caleb. The new plans have been approved. Get your crews to Sweetwater. The sooner this is finished, the sooner we can all get past this...distraction.”

Caleb stared at his brother. As usual, Whit was a member of the audience. Before Whit came along, Caleb and Senior had formed an uneasy relationship, but with the birth of his younger brother, the balance had changed. Whit was the favored son, even if Caleb reaped plenty of Callaway benefits. The urge to argue with Senior, or tell him the whole truth about Winter’s role, was strong, but taking the credit for wrinkling the lodge plans was still the right thing to do.

Confessing that she’d been the one to alert the governor might change Senior’s feelings a bit, but he’d still stepped in to save Ash’s job.

And he’d made Winter a promise to keep the secret. A little family drama was no reason to break that promise.

Meeting Senior’s stare was difficult. He’d always been a man to respect, at least until this drive to push Whit into the capital had taken over. Having his stepfather refuse to take his calls had shaken Caleb. He’d shove his way back inside this small crack.

“It’s time to focus on rehabilitating the family image. The reserve is what caused the breakdown, so this lodge matters more than ever.” His stepfather inhaled slowly. “What we need now is a way to save some face, make some money and regain the ground we’ve lost in this political race.” He pointed at Caleb. “You did all this. Stop stalling and fix it.”

He was responsible for all of it? No way. If either of them had listened to reason to begin with...

It didn’t matter. They hadn’t, but Caleb hadn’t been much better. Sitting on all the boards required by the Callaway fortune was an obligation he did his best to shirk. Thanks to Winter Kingfisher’s insistence, he now knew more about the nature reserve and his brother’s election plans than he wanted to.

“He doesn’t have anything to say to that.” Whit shook his head and crossed his arms in a tight knot over his chest. The disgruntled grimace on his face hadn’t changed much since he was twelve, but they’d outgrown the ability to wrestle away their grievances.

The tension between them was always there. Being an adopted Callaway meant Caleb had a later start than his younger brother on getting everything he wanted. Before his mother’s marriage to Senior, they’d lived in an apartment and spent Sunday afternoons clipping coupons. At five, he’d loved scissors, and she’d always been smart enough to capitalize on the blessings that came her way.

“I’m waiting to hear the plan. I know you have one.” Caleb pivoted to face his father. “Dad has a plan, I mean. Junior follows it. As always.” He couldn’t go for a headlock, so he’d use his words.

Whit scoffed. “Unlike Caleb, who doesn’t need any help from anyone, ever. Right? Forget about the loans that started your business, the family connections that keep it afloat and the fact that you’re never here.” Whatever else he meant to say was swallowed whole, as his lips clamped tightly shut.

Why had he stopped? He was absolutely right.

Being unable to argue knocked Caleb off balance.

“I’d first like to hear some kind of explanation about why you’d foul up the plan we had in place,” his brother snapped.

Caleb shook his head. “It was the right thing to do. That lodge, if we’d built it at The Aerie, would have destroyed so much of what makes the reserve important. Habitat, old growth forest, the history of the land there.” He motioned widely, hoping they’d fill in the blanks. He didn’t have a firm grasp of the importance of the land protected by the reserve, but Winter had convinced him saving it mattered. “You’ve always taken such pride in donating that land to the people of Tennessee. What I don’t get is how you could have ever believed building there was worth everything you’d lose.”

“I was in a hurry.” His stepfather checked the clock, the lines around his eyes convincing Caleb he was exhausted. “Time is short. The election is many months away. We want the lodge story laid to rest. Ash Kingfisher has been working with the same firm that did the first environmental-impact study to evaluate the spot over by the old weather station. The board is pleased with the results. The architect’s drawings have been modified to meet the demands of the report and the new elevation. We need this lodge finished, Caleb. I’ll divert a Callaway Construction crew to join yours to speed things up. Whit will officially announce his run for governor there, but to do so, this project has to be fast-tracked. Now.”

Caleb wanted to argue. He had his own business, built one project at a time, and was sitting on the edge of real success. The Yarborough luxury subdivision, Rivercrest, would keep him in business for years and allow him to build as he wanted. Was his company the size of Callaway Construction? Not yet, but taking this project would delay the growth a high-profile project in Nashville might bring.

Building the lodge would be trouble from top to bottom and beginning to end. Small-town Sweetwater would bore him to death. And then there was the proximity to Winter Kingfisher.

But he’d been on the outside with no way to even look in, and Caleb could acknowledge both Senior and Junior had good reason to demand payback.

“Fine. I’m the lucky guy, not a midlevel manager from Callaway Construction, who’ll take over.” Caleb propped his hands on his hips and frantically evaluated different objections. None of them would hold water. “What about my crew? Who is paying them while I’m doing this?”

“Bring them. Put your crew to work on the lodge. Callaway Construction will pick up the tab. Run both crews. Get this done. It’s your mama’s dream, too. For once, instead of wasting money on frivolity and fun little projects, help us. The timing is crucial. So is doing this the right way.” Senior’s lips disappeared in a tight line. “We need you.”

They needed him? Had he ever heard that before? Not that he could remember.

“Dinner’s ready. Tell me where we’re going to end up with this negotiation.” Caleb’s vaguely guilty conscience was only going to push him so far.

“You got a promotion, son.” His stepfather stood and hitched up his pants before settling his belt around his waist. “It’s time you joined Callaway Construction as more than a name on the financial report. This lodge? It’s your first project. You’ll come in on time and under budget. And you’re going to make sure those Kingfishers disappear. I don’t want to hear one more word out of Sweetwater. Winter Kingfisher...” He grimaced. “She knows how to keep the news stirred up, and thanks to her job at the reserve, she has connections with all the news stations around the state capitol. If she’s talking about the reserve lodge or Whit, you distract her.”

Caleb waited for more direction. There had to be more, didn’t there?

Senior waited for him to agree.

“I’m not sure how any mortal man is going to distract Winter Kingfisher if she doesn’t want to be distracted.” Caleb turned back to stare at Whit. “I mean, not even the golden boy here could hold on to her long enough to get her to say ‘I do.’” And didn’t it say a whole lot that no one in the room was plotting to win his ex-fiancée back to their side. Stupid mistake.

If Caleb had convinced Winter to marry him, she’d be priority number one in this recovery plan. He might be annoyed with her, but no one would doubt she’d been the brains in this political organization.

Standing his ground when Whit marched up to aggressively invade his space was easy. He had six inches and at least fifty pounds on Whit, not to mention right on his side. Caleb had his long-gone father’s build: big, solid, ready to work.

His brother, who’d always given off the polo athlete vibe—rich, lanky and well-dressed enough to hide narrow shoulders—should be bearing more of the responsibility here. Caleb couldn’t imagine Winter sitting silently by while the Callaways planned this lodge, but even if she had, Whit had still gone after her brother in a public way, with them both ending up on the front pages. Firing Ash Kingfisher, a man who’d never been anything but a solid champion of the reserve? Yeah, even Caleb knew there was no way Winter could have let their engagement stand after that.

And instead of plotting to win her back, the Callaways were trying to keep her quiet.

“She was always too much for you, wasn’t she, Whit?” Caleb asked softly, mad all over again at being the odd one out in this family. He took a childish pleasure in the way his brother stepped back. Whit wanted to fight. He’d never been able to best Caleb physically. Being his father’s favorite had always been enough to get by.

“All my boys in one room.” His mother was posing in the doorway again. “Dinner is ready. Come to the table.” She tried a beautiful smile, but steel laced her words when she added, “Now. No fighting.”

“Coming, Marjorie.” His stepfather pointed with his chin. “One more minute. That’s all we need.”

She surveyed all three of them before turning and slowly walking away, the clipped steps of her heels echoing on the expensive tile of the hallway.

“Follow your mother, Junior.” Caleb watched his stepfather and his brother argue without saying a word. Whit tucked his chin and marched after their mother. Every disagreement they had ended the same way—Whit followed orders.

Before he could tell his stepfather what he thought of the command performance, Senior held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Not right now. Your mother...” His stepfather stared down at the desk. “She needs us to get along right now.”

The grim determination on Senior’s face was nothing new, but his tone had changed. “What does that mean? Is something wrong?” Caleb crossed his arms tightly. What had he missed?

Watching Senior consider his words carefully was the scariest reaction Caleb might have expected. Whit Callaway, Sr. never hesitated. Worry punched a tiny hole in his resentment of the man.

“She’s been having some forgetfulness.” Senior rubbed his hand on his forehead, the fatigue on his face growing. “We’ve been to a couple of specialists, the best, but...” When their eyes met, Caleb understood. He’d heard so many stories of his grandmother and great-grandfather losing their fight with dementia.

“What’s the diagnosis?” Caleb asked.

“Early stages of Alzheimer’s.” Senior met his stare. “She’s taking everything she can to slow this down and give it everything she has, but I don’t want her upset. So you and I are going to get along.” Or else.

Caleb understood the unspoken words and supported them.

He also wondered what would have happened if he’d skipped dinner. Would anyone have told him what was going on with the most important person in his world? Anger burned bright and hot before he squashed it.

“Go to Sweetwater. Take over the project. Show us what you can do. Get the lodge built. Distract Winter Kingfisher until everyone that matters has forgotten her.” His stepfather clasped his hands together. “Easy enough.”

Put your life on hold until it’s done. His core crew would be working because he was definitely bringing them to Sweetwater, but finding new business for his own company would be next to impossible while he was stuck there.

Unless he pulled off a miracle, Mitch Yarborough and Rivercrest would move on without him.

“How long?” Caleb asked. He had four months to start the Yarborough project. This could still work. If he got the lodge off to a solid start, someone else could come in and finish.

“As long as it takes.” Senior met his stare directly. He would accept nothing other than a yes.

“And that gets me what?” Caleb drawled. That had always been his concern—whether what his family offered matched what they demanded. He could live without their money. Missing his mother was almost impossible to comprehend.

“An open door.” His stepfather’s lips were a tight line again. “Whit and I will be busy, running his campaign. Your mother needs you, needs all of us right now. Knoxville is an easy drive from Sweetwater. She’ll like that you’re closer to home. To us.”

The most effective leverage his stepfather had would always be Marjorie Callaway and it still worked.

“Check out the plans. I don’t understand how you could say no. This place is going to amaze us all. It’ll be the premier luxury mountain-resort destination in the south.” His stepfather grabbed a long tube from the credenza behind him. “Take a look. Then come to dinner.”

Instead of twisting harder, Senior offered him his hand to shake. Caleb stared hard at it before taking it. They’d never be warm and fuzzy, Callaway family dinners. They would almost always be businesslike. Until tonight.

“One more thing.” His stepfather ran a hand over his nape. “Your mother...” He shook his head. “It’s best not to mention the Kingfishers. All this circus about the canceled wedding gets her agitated. I haven’t been able to keep all the news from her but...” He sagged against the desk before forcing himself to stand tall. “Try not to upset her.”

When his stepfather left, Caleb tugged on his collar, ready for a shot of fresh, cool air. He’d had his doubts that Senior ever saw him as a son, but he understood the man loved his wife.

“I’ve been gone too long,” Caleb muttered. The ticking clock reminded him he had to get a move on. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Caleb unrolled the architectural plans. He’d seen the early drawing for the lodge at a board meeting six months ago. As he recalled, it had been glass. So much glass. So modern, perched high on the top of the mountain. When board meetings came up, he usually found some other obligation that could not be avoided. Job sites were fun. Board meetings were not, so he avoided them.

As he studied the revised drawings, flipping slowly through the sheets of paper as he absorbed the large-scale plans, Caleb could imagine the final structure, the way it would blend perfectly in the broad clearing surrounding the old weather station, nestled in the shadow of the peak of The Aerie.

For this setting, the facade was wood timbers. Airy central spaces backed by a solid wall of windows that would frame a view of The Aerie, one of the highest and rarest points in the reserve. Instead of perching on top of the rocky mountain, a placement that would require high infrastructure work, the architect had situated the lodge in the shadow of the mountain. Small arms shot off the central building, where luxury rooms and small cabins spread out, up and down the sides of the valley. “They should fade into the background.” And each one would have spectacular views. The Aerie. Down the valley. Old forest. And the shining water of Otter Lake, along with the morning mist, would attract visitors year after year.

If the Callaways had been hunting for a way to salt the family coffers, they’d found it.

Their first plan, to build on The Aerie to capitalize on the view, would have devastated so much of what made the place worth protecting. Ash Kingfisher’s insistence that destroying The Aerie was the wrong decision had handed them perfection. The Kingfishers had done them a favor, not that Whit or his stepfather would ever acknowledge that.

He’d take the plans and turn them slightly, insist on Tennessee stone and timber. Summit Builders had always focused on that Tennessee connection. This could be a true art piece built from Tennessee materials and history.

“So much money.” Caleb shook his head slowly. “How do they do it? Always land in the money.”

And he was going to enjoy building the thing, so there was no reason to say no.

Except for the Yarboroughs and their beautiful site overlooking the river. With hard work, luck and no interference, the timing could still work.

But then there was Winter Kingfisher.

Keeping her interested in anything except the lodge would be impossible, no matter what his stepfather ordered.

When she’d marched into his office, Caleb had been knocked sideways. She’d been as beautiful and put-together as she had been every time he’d appeared for a family photo opportunity, but she’d also been fiery and determined to save her brother’s job and the reserve.

The comparison between her impassioned defense and his stepfather’s reception was a stark contrast. In that instant, he’d been nearly certain that if Whit had managed to marry Winter Kingfisher, he’d have married up.

In terms of intelligence and strength of character, for sure. Now she owed Caleb and that was the only card he had that she might care about. Their maneuver meant a vindicated Ash Kingfisher was running the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve, all the while keeping an eye on the Callaways. Otter Lake was safe; Ash was Sweetwater’s hero. Would gratitude or guilt be enough for Winter to agree to lay low until the election?

He’d try both angles. He needed her cooperation, a smooth build and an accelerated timeline. Everyone could have what they wanted.

Except Winter.

Her engagement was over, and she no longer had the job she loved.

Could he convince her that she was actually better off that way? Caleb squeezed his eyes shut. It was easy to imagine her negative reaction if he tried that.

Caleb slowly rolled the plans back up and slipped them in the tube before he walked into the dining room.

“I was beginning to worry you’d decided to make a run for it, after all.” His mother’s warm smile was sweet as she pointed at his usual spot. “Cook made prime rib. I know it’s your favorite.” It wasn’t, but now wasn’t the time to correct her, so Caleb nodded. When he sat at her right hand, she gripped his hand hard. She knew his stepfather had broken the news. As always, she was determined not to discuss something so unpleasant as an unfavorable diagnosis.

“Whit, remind Winter I need a phone call or a text or something to let me know when she’s skipping dinner.” She tsked. “The lady works too hard. I hope once the wedding goes off like a dream that she’ll be able to slow down.”

Caleb met his stepfather’s hard stare and nodded. This was what Senior meant. His mother was mostly there with them, but she’d forgotten that the wedding was canceled. Reminding her would upset them all.

“Yes, Mama,” Whit mumbled and shook out his linen napkin before taking a sip of the wine next to his plate.

Something, maybe the tension in the air, was enough to clear away her confusion. His mother straightened in her seat and cleared her throat. “Right. I forgot for a second. Winter is no longer part of the family.” She forced a laugh. “That is due to having too much on my mind, gentlemen. There’s no need for such solemn faces. Everyone smile, I command it.” Her smile, Caleb noted, was genuine.

His mother motioned at them to continue their eating. “So, did you boys come to an agreement?”

“We did. I’m going to start the lodge, now that the plans are approved. Should be a fun build, with a few modifications.” Caleb met his stepfather’s stare. “Guess I better find a place to stay in Sweetwater.”

His mother’s frown seemed to be one of confusion, but eventually her smile returned. “Well, now, that lodge has been a long time in the making, hasn’t it? Once you get it open way up there on the top of the mountain, that is going to be a nice place to stay.”

Ever the optimist... For her, it was hard to imagine living outside of the comforts of home. Whit Callaway, Sr. respected Caleb’s mom, loved her and worked hard to make sure she had every creature comfort.

For those reasons alone, Caleb would smooth things over with his family.

Building the lodge would be an interesting project.

Staying one step ahead of Winter would be a real challenge.

For his mother, he’d absolutely give it his best.

Winter had dragged him into this mess. The least she could do is keep a low profile until Whit was elected. Selling her that would be the biggest challenge of his life.

CHAPTER THREE

“WELL, NOW, A birdie told me you might make a visit today,” Janet Abernathy said from her spot on the ladder’s third rung. “Bright and early for a Monday, too.” Winter eased closer as the ladder rattled, concerned her interview might be interrupted by her having to call for an ambulance. Janet was holding a framed painting with both hands, but Winter couldn’t see either a hammer or a nail, so her purpose was unclear. The subject of the painting was enough to freeze Winter in her tracks.

Someone had captured the mist rising off of one of the valleys in the reserve at daybreak. The pink of sunrise tinged one side of the wispy smoke, while the other glistened. Somehow, an artist had managed to convey the beauty and the delicate details in vivid color. This special instant could never last, except in paint and brushstrokes.

Winter had no words to describe the techniques or the principles that made this painting art, but the emotions it provoked could be named: awe at nature’s fragile, powerful beauty and love for the mountains that meant home. Neither Knoxville nor Nashville made her feel the same.

One painting had exactly what made these mountains like no other place for her.

“Pretty, right?” Janet said. At some point, she’d braced the painting against the wall and joined Winter in admiring it. Enthralled, Winter had missed the whole thing.

“Amazing. What’s it called?” Winter inched closer, realizing there was no need to whisper. They were alone in the wide-open space of the gallery, but it felt right.

“Painting number seven. The girl has no poetry, even if she’s brimming with natural talent.” Janet sighed. “Or this is her poetry.”

Drawn to the painting, Winter studied the darker corners, old growth forests making a frame for the airy center. “Enchanted. The title should have something to do with enchanted.” Winter shook her head. She’d memorized her grandmother’s stories before studying Cherokee folklore and history on her own, but not everyone else had the same interests. “Sorry. The Cherokee have a story about a secret lake that has restorative properties. A wounded animal could enter the lake and come out on the other side, healed. One day a hunter discovered it and was warned to never tell another soul. Humans being as they are, the hunter broke his promise and suffered the consequences. Now, the lake is hidden, but on cool mornings, the mist rises.” Winter rubbed her forehead, aware all over again how a lot of people didn’t care to hear her stories. Kids did. Adults, not as much.

When she turned to say something to get the job interview she’d planned back on track, Winter found Leanne Hendrix frozen in the roughed-in doorway leading to Sweetwater Souvenir. After all the renovation, the large open space was a perfect white backdrop, just the three of them and this art. Janet had propped one shoulder against the wall, her head tilted to the side. It seemed she was waiting, but for what?

Winter cleared her throat. “Who’s the artist?” The urge to self-consciously fluff her hair was strong, but she fought it. Wearing one of the dark, perfectly tailored suits she’d chosen as armor while she worked in the district office of the reserve had been a boost to her confidence.

Or that had been the plan.

The silence in the room was chiseling away at it.

“I painted it. I didn’t know the story. I just wanted to keep the memory of a perfect morning forever.” Leanne shifted a step farther into the room with a nervous glance at Janet, whose face was slowly morphing into the Cheshire cat. She wore a grin so big it made Winter nervous. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Me, too. I’m also pleased as all get-out that I’m right about Leanne’s talent. Since it’s one of the larger pieces we have, I’ll hang it right there, where anyone walking down Main Street can see it and be drawn inside.” Janet held up one finger, bright red nail polish flashing. “However, we’re either going to have to put an astronomical price on it or mark it ‘not for sale.’ Otherwise, I’ll have a big ol’ hole on the wall the second day after we get these doors open.” She tapped her chin. “What to do, what to do...”

Before Winter could bring up the reason for her visit, Janet had moved back into the souvenir shop on the other side. The musical bells tinkling signaled a visitor to Sweetwater Souvenir.

“She does that. It’s like she has a sixth sense when someone with money is about to walk in.” Leanne shoved her hands in her back pockets and met Winter’s stare. They both laughed and her shoulders relaxed.

“I wanted to talk to her about the part-time job.” Winter waved a hand toward the open doorway. “But I have no money in my pocket. I might have lost my chance forever.”

Leanne shook her head. “No, I mentioned you’d be by to ask about the job. She’ll be back.” She tapped her forehead with one finger. “Never forgets anything, Miss Janet.”

They’d shared a burger, but other than stories other people told about them, neither she nor Leanne knew much about the other. They’d never been particularly close.

“I didn’t know you were an artist. Why didn’t you talk about this at The Branch?” Winter realized they’d been focused on her problems. How selfish and unacceptable. Compared to Leanne’s life story, Winter’s had been a charmed existence, but no one heard Leanne whining about shampoo. “What’s the plan here?” Winter glanced around the large open space, the white walls crying out for something.

“I’m not sure I am an artist. That’s all Miss Janet’s doing. I wouldn’t call myself anything but a...dabbler, but I have enjoyed painting. It keeps me busy, my mind occupied and out of trouble. Today, I’ve got to get moving on covering these walls. That’s the plan. Local artists of all kinds. We’ll have shelving, all painted white, for the smaller pieces, and there will be a small desk near the door.” Storefronts on Sweetwater’s main street all had history, thanks to more than a century of life, but the door’s beautiful carved wood was another kind of art. If Leanne was capturing fleeting moments in paint, whoever had crafted the door showed art was meant to last. Coneflowers were carved into the heavy lower half of the door while morning glories twirled on vines around the thick, wavy glass in the top half. “I can show you the back room. Janet has asked me to work on setting up displays, but it makes me so nervous. There’s a big difference between hanging key chains and folding T-shirts and arranging art, things people have poured their hearts into.” Leanne motioned over her shoulder. “I mean, there are people who do this for a living, you know? Planners who set art installations for galleries. Me? I’m just...” She shook her head helplessly. “She’s got faith in me, so I’ve got to give it a shot. Anyway, talking through it will help.”

Winter watched her unlock several locks on the door. “Takes security seriously, I see.”

Leanne held up her hands and made air quotes around “Art gallery,” as she said it. She shook her head. “Since most of this is my stuff, I’m not sure who she’s afraid will be breaking in to steal things. In another life that might have been me, actually, but I imagine Janet’s the only one who can turn my work into money.”

Winter glanced over her shoulder at the mist painting perched on top of the ladder. If she had a place, she’d spend money she hadn’t earned yet to own it. “If they’re all as good as that one, I get it.”

Leanne’s cheeks turned pink. “You’re kind. I’ll paint one for you. I loved your story.” Then she motioned around the room. “Some of these you’ll recognize. Kingfisher originals.” She paused in front of a collection of Winter’s father’s woven, double-walled baskets.

“Yes, I’ve seen enough of these to pick them out of the crowd.” Winter traced a finger around the mouth of a tall basket near the front. “My father’s current claim to fame and favorite conversational topic. The tradition is to pass the knowledge from mother to daughter, but my grandmother had only sons. And my father? Yeah, he only does things wholeheartedly. He’s experimenting with different materials and dyes. I’d say he needs a hobby, but this is it.” She smiled at Leanne. “I’m so glad he’s found somewhere else to store them. My mother is, too.” She’d been so wrapped up in the drama with Ash and Whit and the lodge that she’d missed her father’s exciting announcement that his work would be featured in a brand-new Sweetwater gallery, but her father had spent a lot of time since reminding everyone.

“Yeah, finding a place to put all my paintings in the tiny apartment upstairs was getting to me, too.” Leanne chuckled, the sound melodic and unexpected. Both of them had grown up in Sweetwater. They’d never been friends, but in high school, Winter heard plenty of stories about how wild Leanne was. More recently, the story of how she’d stolen Christina’s car and driven away in the middle of the night had made it all the way to Knoxville.

The rest of the story—how she’d done it to enter rehab to fight her addictions—hadn’t made it quite as fast, but the people of Sweetwater loved a good story. If it had a mostly happy ending, they’d tell it over and over.

Leanne was making her second chance work. She had a lot to be proud of.

“I’m not sure paintings like that should be stacked on the floor, but...” Winter moved over to the canvases leaning against the wall. The first one was a large piece showing The Aerie. The heavy forests of the reserve yielded to an open area that seemed almost barren compared to the shadowy forest, but the view down the valley was inspiring. It had been years since Winter had made the climb up herself.

Now that she had time on her hands, she should correct that.

“That’s one of my favorite places in the reserve. I have a few of them. It’s so easy to breathe at the top of the mountain.” Leanne cleared her throat. “We’ve got some jewelry pieces that should go in the window, and later today, the most talented stained glass artist is coming in.” Leanne nodded. “The collection will be strong—Janet has a good eye, even if she’s pushing for my stuff to be the centerpiece.”

Winter studied Leanne’s face. There would be zero chance Leanne would be comfortable as the center of attention. “Lucky for you, my father will steal any sort of spotlight in any room anywhere,” Winter said, laughing. “That has been true my whole life. I love him, but the guy is ten pounds of personality in a five-pound bag.”

“Your father is a blessing, for sure.” Leanne waved her toward the door. “Just like I know your help will be when we talk Janet into hiring you. I’ll be happy to have another set of hands here.”

As she smiled, Winter realized she’d missed this, the comfort that came from being proud of her family connections. When she’d moved to Knoxville, her plan had been to conquer the city first. She’d always intended to follow the steps all the way to Washington. With Whit Callaway, the boy she’d met in a college accounting class. Winter wasn’t the charming one; winning people over was his job. Instead, she was the strategic one. Her whole life, she’d been able to see several steps ahead.

Neither one of them had developed much love for debits or credits, but they’d instantly clicked by rolling their eyes at the professor’s snide comment about young people who refuse to choose practical careers.

She and Whit had been determined to be more than practical. They’d wanted to do something important.

Friendship was easy between them because Whit had agreed with every one of her ideals. They’d dreamed of the same thing: a career of public service. If she’d married him right out of college, that might still be the plan. Instead, she’d been determined to conquer Knoxville on her own through a job working for the reserve’s district office. She’d proven herself there and the wedding had been next. In Knoxville, everyone knew the Callaways. She was Whit Callaway’s fiancée. Here? Kingfisher was not a political name or a wealthy name, but it was respected.

“Can you help Leanne get this place set up?” Janet asked. “It might take all three of us, since we ain’t none of us done this before, but then I figure the three of us together could bring about world peace or put a person on Mars.” She shrugged. “Depending on our whims. Leanne does not have the confidence to sell her own work, but, Winter...? You could sell every one of those paintings she finishes with stories like that, no matter what price I talk her into, leaving me plenty of time to do other things.” Janet clapped her hands. “Everyone does their part. Everyone makes money. That’s my plan and I’m sticking to it.”

“I’ve got a job?” Winter asked, all the questions she’d carefully prepared about how many hours and when she might be eligible for a raise and whether or not there was a bonus for good sales tumbling around in her brain, and absolutely none of them coming out of her mouth.

“We’re focusing on local artists. Can’t imagine anyone else better prepared to tell and sell the history of Sweetwater, these mountains and the people who lived here than you, Miz Storytellin’ Kingfisher. I can’t wait to welcome the crowds we’ll draw. Minimum wage per hour. Thirty percent commission on anything you sell.” Janet’s sly smile was scary. “I expect you could be a real sales genius with the right incentives.”

Thirty percent? She’d been prepared to argue for fifteen. She’d never done this before, so Janet was taking a chance on her.

“That’s acceptable, although at the end of three months, I’d like an opportunity to sit down with you to discuss growth potential.” There. That sounded as though she knew her own value and Janet would be a fool to argue.

Janet’s amused chuckle was disconcerting, but she offered her hand for a shake. “Soon as you’re ready to move out of Mama and Daddy’s house, you let me know. I’m in between renos right now, but I’ve got my eye on a cabin in desperate need of a redesign. Rent would be cheap.” She shrugged. “If you do as well as we both expect, could be we’d need to expand our horizons, though. This month and next might be slow, but once summer rolls in, I expect we’ll all enjoy an income boost.”

Winter wanted to dance in place, but she would keep her feelings under wraps. “How soon do you want to open?” Crossing her fingers would reveal too much, but Winter couldn’t help sending positive energy out into the universe. Please let it be soon. Please let it be soon.

Janet shook her finger at Winter. “I like you Kingfishers. Your brother has always been one of them enigmas, but my boy Sam admires him, and that’s good enough for me. Your daddy? He’s charm personified, and your mama...” Janet stared out at the street for a second. “Gotta appreciate a woman who holds her ground. Plus, she’s got good instincts. That night out at the reserve’s ranger station open house, we talked about the skeeves and how that Callaway boy had always given ’em to her. She was pure joy when you pushed him in the water. In my book, the Kingfishers are quality people. Untangling yourself from the Callaways’ll take some time, but you let me know how I can help.” Janet clasped her hands in front of her. “Get to work right now if you’d like. Got a carpenter coming to put up some shelves and a party planned in two weeks. Let’s say twenty hours a week for now. I’d suggest you ladies get a move on getting us ready to open.”

“I will.” Winter smiled serenely, but inside her head a loud parade had formed because she’d be working again.

Janet tapped the Choose Duncan Again button that Winter had been faithfully wearing. “Lose this. Say what you want, but no wearing politics while you’re working here, especially not that guy. I still work at the school three mornings a week and the teachers would never let me hear the end of it.”

The celebratory parade ended with a sad trombone. The button was Winter’s single, constant, pitiful effort at impeding Whit Callaway, Jr. Twenty hours a week. She could take off the button for twenty hours a week and a paycheck. That meant Winter had to find something more effective.

Janet glanced at her watch. “If you want to make yourself scarce, I’ll understand, but I got an important client coming. Regina, my business partner and best pal, usually negotiates all the contracts, but she’s over in Cherokee doing some gallery scouting. Woman’s a pure genius for scouting, I tell you. Got a line on a computer system that’ll make tracking our inventory and sales a snap.” The musical bells rang and Janet turned. “Just one second, Mr. Callaway. I’m finishing up some business.”

At some point, the name Callaway better stop showering her with cold anxiety and then hot rage, but Winter wasn’t there yet. She had no real interest in talking to any Callaway.

Janet leaned forward. “Caleb Callaway. He’s hoping to rent a place close to the reserve. Got some business here in town for about six months. Guessing construction of that lodge is about to start.” She winked. “His money’s the same color as everyone else’s, so I figure, why not? The man did put a stop to destroying The Aerie, something this town was firmly behind.”

She waited for Winter to argue.

The town of Sweetwater had initially squared off against her brother, the only man determined to save The Aerie, a rare habitat in the reserve, from development because the town needed the business the lodge would bring in. Ash had been Sweetwater’s Most Wanted for a minute.

And that had been Winter’s fault, even though she knew Ash would agree she’d done what she needed to do if he ever found out. Slipping the governor a way to take down the Callaways in order to protect the reserve? Less noble.

The Kingfisher way was to stand up bravely to do the right thing. Her attempt to save her engagement by sneaking around? That had been a mistake. If anyone ever found out she’d been the anonymous source, instead of Caleb Callaway, Ash would forgive her. But Sweetwater would take longer to forgive and forget.

Caleb had taken the credit and the heat for pulling in the governor.

At her request.

He’d taken the heat for her.

Of all the Callaways, he was the one she was least prepared to face at that second.

When he paused in the open doorway, his jeans and rough denim coat a far cry from his brother’s polished loafers and wool sweaters, a hard knot formed in her stomach.

He hadn’t expected to find her standing there, but the serious expression on his face was fair warning that their business was not finished.

She’d begged him to confess to leaking the environmental-impact report to the governor’s office and take the heat off Ash. Telling the truth, that she’d been the one to sneak the report in during a random visit to the education coordinator at the capitol, would have done nothing to save Ash’s job.

Caleb Callaway, the family playboy who’d built a reputation for solid building practices and being at odds with his brother, had been the only answer at that time. When she’d evaluated her options to save Ash’s job and The Aerie, Caleb Callaway’s intercession had been her only choice.

She’d done what she had to do to get the Callaway playboy to show up for the board meeting and throw his support behind Ash. He’d done it. He’d confessed to leaking the report. Caleb had helped her, going beyond her request to make certain Ash kept his job, had gotten Ash’s idea for the new lodge heard and had gained a seat on the Callaway board of directors.

Caleb had given her more than she’d expected, including a promise not to tell anyone about it.

Guilt triggered a small panic attic as tingling heat spread up the back of her neck. He was here in Sweetwater as a result of helping her. She just knew it. From the expression on his face, he wasn’t pleased about it, either.

What would he ask for in return?

CHAPTER FOUR

AFTER A WEEKEND spent scrambling to get the plans in place to start the lodge on his stepfather’s accelerated timeline and move his crew to the reserve, Caleb was rushed, frustrated and annoyed that he hadn’t skipped dinner on Friday night. This time frame set by Senior was ridiculous. The only way to make it work would be to spend nearly every minute at Otter Lake. He’d end up swinging a hammer himself.

Then he remembered his mother’s confused frown and determined smile.

Senior was worried. Even Whit had been subdued. The family dynamic had changed. People were depending on him.

He could do this, even if he’d rather not be stuck in Sweetwater. Proving that and meeting Senior’s deadline would go a long way to smoothing over family tensions. It was worth the sacrifice.

Thanks to an unexpected phone call from Mitch Yarborough, who was ready for a builder’s signature on the dotted line in order to get his Nashville subdivision underway, Caleb was thirty minutes late meeting Janet Abernathy, Sweetwater’s charming kingpin of rental properties. He was also completely unprepared to run into Winter Kingfisher then. As soon as he’d entered the cute, cluttered tourist trap of Sweetwater Souvenir, he could hear the murmur of womens’ voices, but when he’d paused in the open doorway to the other side of the shop, he’d slammed on the brakes.

Retreat was not a good option, and then her eyes met his. He couldn’t have turned his back to save his life. Why did she seem scared when he was the one having trouble catching his breath?

“Here’s a Callaway I’m prepared to welcome to town.” The woman marching toward him crackled with energy, even if her voice had pieces of slow Southernness to it. “I’m Janet Abernathy. We’ve spoken on the phone, but I don’t remember meeting in person. You don’t get to town often, as I understand it.” She smiled slowly as she offered him her hand. “I count that a real shame. We’re gonna fix it, though.”

Charmed and caught off guard at a warm welcome, Caleb relaxed a fraction as he shook her hand. “Right. Sorry I’m late. I had a...thing.” He shrugged. No one cared that he was scrambling to make sure the projects he had in the works stayed on track or that Missy Yarborough had had a restrained yet intense fit when he’d told her he’d be living in Sweetwater until he could get the project up and running.

In fact, he’d be surprised if anyone in the room actually wanted to greet a Callaway at all that morning.

Besides that, Callaways didn’t make excuses and avoided apologies when they could.

Ever since the Kingfishers had routed his brother and father so soundly, he had the feeling Callaways were no longer greeted as wealthy benefactors in Sweetwater. Before his previous quick trip to town, how many years had it been since he’d visited? Five years? Was that how long it had been since he’d fished Otter Lake?

“Sure. You had a thing. It happens. We busy corporate moguls have to schedule full days.” Janet tapped his arm. “Let’s get you out on the road. This first place I have to show you...” She held up her hands and gestured as if she was pushing open the curtains on a grand vista. “You won’t need to waste a bit of your time with any others.”

Caleb ran a hand down his nape and wondered if Winter would say something. Anything at all would be good.

Then he realized how little her opinion should matter. She was a part of his mission here in Sweetwater. As long as she wasn’t organizing press briefings or rallying the town against him or his family, his job was going to be easy.

“I’m surprised you have it available to rent, then. Because it’s the slow season?” Caleb asked as Janet waved her hands.

“No, it’s not a renter, it’s a buyer, but for you, I’m going to make an exception.” She nodded around the room as if everyone had asked a question. “Regina and I bought it because we wanted to try our hands at a vacation rental.” She pursed her lips. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I wanted to decorate something other than my own living room, but then we decided to hold it instead of reselling it. We weren’t sure why then, but smart businesspeople follow their hunches.” She clapped. “And it’s all working out.”

Caleb raised his eyebrows at Winter. She was a hometown girl, had probably known Janet Abernathy her whole life. Surely she could follow the conversation better than he was managing. She shook her head, but her lips curved as if there was a smile waiting.

Seeing her again like this, looking a lot like her old self with the suit and the heels, but different, too... Softer...

Then he read the campaign button pinned loud and proud to her nice suit. That, they would have to talk about.

While he was trying to come up with an answer for her, Janet breezed past him. “Let me get my pocketbook and away we go.”

The petite blonde who followed him was shaking her head, but she didn’t pause to greet him.

That didn’t happen often—women passing him by instead of making a point to introduce themselves.

The fact that he hadn’t noticed her until she passed under his nose might be the reason.

Winter was in the room. She would draw attention no matter how many women were there.

“Caleb.” She tangled her fingers together in front of her. “You’re going to be in Sweetwater for a few months.” The way she fidgeted and refused to meet his eyes convinced him she was as pleased with the notion as he was.

“I won’t be stuck here any longer than necessary, but yeah, until I get the lodge construction up and running, I’ll be in town.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Stuck, huh? Like it’s a punishment.”

“Isn’t it? My stepfather’s decree—do this and all is forgiven. Given another option, I’d be eating a nice lunch right now. Instead, I’m in Sweetwater.” He pointed at the window. “Home of...a coffee shop.” Irritated all over again but aware he’d made his own decisions, Caleb held up his hands. Why did she give him the kind of jitters he hadn’t experienced since prom night? “Never mind about restaurant recommendations. I can find the only one in town by myself. Let’s talk about how my visit is going to play out. Between us.”

Her eyes shot up, and this time she met his gaze directly. There was no way to miss the sharp intelligence there. She’d make a much better ally than enemy, something he’d always understood even if the rest of the Callaways had forgotten.

“What does that mean?” Winter shifted a step closer to him. “As long as you keep your promise not to tell anyone the truth, why would there be anything between us? You’ll do your job, dismiss the people in this town, which seems to have become the Callaway way of life, and hit the road again. Nobody is looking forward to that as much as I am.” The corners of her lips turned up, but not into a genuine smile. “Maybe you’ll even learn to cook while you’re here. Wouldn’t want to take your chances eating anywhere with less than four stars, am I right?”

The urge to defend himself was strong. Holes-in-the-wall, fine dining and everything in between were his kinds of places. His point had been about limited selection, not that it was beneath him.

But the hard glint in her eyes convinced him to drop that piece of the argument.

“I’ve got a short time frame for construction and other work that has to get done. I don’t need a circus going on while this lodge goes up.” Caleb remembered standing across from his stepfather as he’d delivered the news about his mother’s diagnosis. The tension. The fear that neither one of them wanted to acknowledge and his determination to repair the bridges he’d burned. “You’ve spent a lot of time in the center ring, grabbing the front page. Now, you’ll need to...stop. The lodge goes up. Ash has his job. Kingfishers and Callaways go along their separate, sometimes parallel, but never overlapping, paths and we all win. No bad press. This all works out for everyone.” Except for her, if she was still brokenhearted over the engagement ending. Whatever. She’d land on her feet. People as determined as Winter Kingfisher didn’t stay down for long.

He braced his hands on his hips. This was how he did business. He was up-front. Blunt. She’d appreciate that. “No campaigning for Richard Duncan until the lodge is finished.” There. That was clear.

Winter blinked slowly, the small frown of concentration suggesting she was evaluating his words carefully. “You’re building the lodge. Not Callaway Construction.” She pursed her lips. “That’s a good optic, plays better for all the papers covering Whit’s political run. Your company has a much better reputation. It’s so small, compared to the far-flung projects Callaway Construction has. Less destruction and legal fines, that sort of thing. The family unity is always nice, even if you have a reputation for being the least Callaway of them all.”

Watching her pace was almost like tracking a tennis match. Then he realized what she’d said. The least of them all. Even knowing her current opinion of his brother and stepfather, that stung.

“Caleb, daylight’s wasting. You ready?” Janet stuck her head into the large open space. “Time enough to talk to the pretty women later. Let’s find you an address to call your own.”

Caleb nodded at Janet but made sure he caught Winter’s stare one more time. She hadn’t agreed to anything. This was the trickiest piece of the puzzle, figuring out Winter’s next step.

The fact that she robbed him of IQ points simply by standing opposite him increased the degree of difficulty.

“We have a deal. I might be stuck here, building this lodge I don’t care about in a place I don’t know because of you, but I’ll keep my promise as long as you’ll help kill this story dead,” Caleb said. “The less time that takes, the better chance I’ll remember my promise. No more circus, Winter.”

The firmness of her jaw suggested she didn’t appreciate his honest terms.

“It must be nice.” Winter walked slowly toward him. “Being able to dismiss the battle to save a place I love as a circus. Your family is about grabbing headlines. Your brother is about publicity at all costs. Your stepfather and brother were happy with my circus when I was setting it up for their benefit.” She sighed. “Having me fade away would be convenient for the Callaway political team. I guess we’ll have to see which ringmaster wins, Caleb.”

Calmly laying down the gauntlet had been a mistake. Instead of agreeing out of gratefulness or even sympathy, Winter’s stubborn expression indicated the battle was still on.

And she was more prepared to fight than he was. After wasting precious seconds trying to come up with a better parting line than hers, Caleb turned and followed Janet through the souvenir shop. Regrouping at this point might be weak, but it was the only choice he had.

“Follow me.” Janet jingled a key ring. “I’m bringing a contract because I know you’re going to love this place.” She turned and pointed at a white SUV. “We’re headed to the base of the reserve—can’t beat the commute out to the old weather station.”

Caleb slid behind the wheel of his truck and eased out onto the main street behind Janet while he cataloged the changes in Sweetwater. As long as he’d been a Callaway, they’d made infrequent trips to the town and the reserve. Nothing changed quickly here. Businesses came and went but the small town seemed timeless, especially compared to the tourist explosions that had taken place in Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge.

And as he drove out of town, he wondered how anyone lived there happily. Where were the restaurants? How did they entertain themselves? During the day, Otter Lake could offer fishing and all kinds of water activities. Hikers would enjoy the reserve, but what about everyone else?

Caleb tried to figure out how he’d fill in that blank. He worked. He went to parties to build relationships and find more work, and ate out and... What else did he do with his time?

“It’s a good thing you like to work. Getting this lodge built and open is going to be a full-time obsession, no doubt,” Caleb muttered as Janet turned off the two-lane highway in front of him. They’d passed the small apartment complex where some of the reserve’s rangers lived, as well as the road that led up to the campground and ranger station. This was new territory for Caleb.

The old pines lining the road cast a dark shade even in midmorning and it was the kind of forest that faded into darkness and seemed secretive. In less than twenty minutes, the neat civilization of Sweetwater was gone and it was easy to imagine life before the reserve and development.

“Virgin Callaway territory. Who knew it still existed in this corner of Tennessee?” Caleb rolled to a stop right behind Janet’s SUV and watched her climb the steps to a large wraparound porch. Native stone and wood made up the facade of the two-story house. It could have been built decades ago. At first glance, the house made him think of pioneers and wagons and hard living. What did that say about the interior and modern conveniences?

It couldn’t be any more different than his modern Nashville town house, which had a view of the city.

“Now, don’t go jumping to any conclusions. It’s the view from the back deck you gotta see.” Janet motioned at him to hurry up and moved to unlock the door. While he waited, Caleb surveyed the exterior. Everything was in good shape. Tearing it down to start over would have been a bad idea. He admired the craftsmanship.

The quiet hush around them would take some getting used to. In Nashville, traffic noise was a constant backdrop, whether he was working or playing or sitting on the balcony at home. He told himself he liked the energy of the city. This place had none of the noise or traffic. Everything was still.

“Come on in, hon.” Janet’s heels tapped ahead of him on the hardwood floor. The stone and wood carried on inside to a great room that opened wide off a short foyer. “You shoulda seen the furniture we carried out of here. Plaids. All of it covered in some sort of plaid.” Her nose wrinkled. Janet didn’t care for plaid. Judging from the replacements she’d chosen, she preferred light fabrics, furniture built for comfort and a minimal style. He liked it. Shadowy sunlight filtered in through large glass doors filling one wall.

“Want to explore the kitchen?” Janet pointed at the right side of the open room, where modern appliances gleamed. “All brand-new.”

He hadn’t expected that or the brief flash of the picture of a family seated around the large island.

Caleb shook his head. Who was he imagining gathered around for a nice dinner? Not his family. Formal dining at the Callaway home required multiple courses and professional staff.

Learning to cook for himself had never been a priority, either. Those appliances should still be good as new when he moved out.

Janet pointed up the stairs. “Five bedrooms. Hardwoods. The Heathcotes lived here before selling. Had four kids, but they all moved away. Not enough work here to keep them. When her husband died, Mary sold this place and moved down to an assisted-living facility in Knoxville. Hated to see them go, but you understand if you think about it hard. Still, when you go, I’m going to hunt up the right couple or family for this place. You can tell the Heathcotes loved it while they were here.” She brushed her shoulders. “Prettiest bathroom I’ve built yet, if I do say so myself. Got one of them rain showerheads. Separate bathtub with jets.” She motioned over her shoulder that he should follow her, so Caleb obediently trailed Janet through three bathrooms and five bedrooms. This house was nothing like what he’d describe as his perfect home, but when he stepped into the master bedroom, a space all done in smooth lines and calm colors, he could appreciate how Janet had taken the house’s history and turned it into a modern, comfortable space.

“I’ll take it.” Caleb held his hand out to take the small stack of paper Janet immediately shoved in his direction. It was more house than he’d need, especially since they’d be running extra crews to get the lodge built quickly. He’d never be home.

But when he was home, this was where he’d want to spend his time.

“I was saving the best for last,” Janet said over the hands she’d clasped together under her chin. “In case I needed to justify the price tag, but...”

Caleb studied the agreement he’d scrawled his name on in an uncustomary rookie mistake. He should have negotiated. “Rent’s higher than I expected.” But the place was worth it, so he offered her the signed contract back.

Janet smiled broadly. “Sure, but you didn’t expect this, either.” She moved over to the French doors along the side of the bedroom.

Caleb expected a small balcony, something too small for practical use. That was his experience in the Nashville rental market.

Instead, he followed her out to a wide space that ran across the full length of the back of the house.

“Two stories. Bottom level is a kind of wraparound porch,” Janet said. “And for good reason. Soak in this view.”

Caleb eased into one of the chairs Janet had picked out and contemplated the deep, dark forest standing guard around the small clearing. Through a small break in the trees, he could see water. “Is that Otter Lake?”

Janet nodded. “In summer, when the trees fill in with leaves, that’ll disappear. Whoever buys this house could do a little more clearing, with permission of the head ranger at the reserve, of course, and open that up.” She sighed. “Gonna make a fortune when I sell this.” Then she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Of course, my buyer better get on well with Ash Kingfisher. This isn’t technically a piece of reserve land, but it’s surrounded on all sides.” She smiled slowly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m on the best terms with any of the Kingfishers, but Ash does owe me his job and this lodge.” Caleb stood slowly. There was also the fact that Callaways actually owned all the reserve lands. He should be able to do anything he wanted here. “We might be able to negotiate something.”

“If you were buying the place.” Janet smiled sweetly. “Not renting it.” Then she tilted her head to the side.

Almost as if she was waiting for him to make an offer. He hadn’t expected much in the way of business savvy from Janet Abernathy.

He’d been misguided, obviously.

“Good point. Renter here.” Caleb inhaled slowly. It was all in his imagination, of course, but the quiet stillness here made him want to slow down, take it all in.

“I like to point out all the possibilities in every business relationship, Caleb.” Janet braced her hands on the balcony railing. “Life changes quickly, even here on the edge of nowhere. Never know when the lightning bolt hits and a renter changes his mind, finds a place to put down roots.”

He couldn’t see her face. Was she referring to him? Roots here. Caleb shook his head but bit back the snort that was his first response.

“Sunrise will be a true blessing, Caleb. You wait and see. Hard not to greet the day with enthusiasm when you can watch the sun break on Otter Lake.” Janet patted his arm. “It’ll cure whatever ails you, I guarantee.”

His mother. This job. What to do about Winter Kingfisher. The list was short but overwhelming.

“Well, now, I’ll get out of your hair. You take a minute or five right here. Work can wait that long.” Janet offered him the key ring and waved. “Next time you’re in town, stop in at the souvenir shop and let me know if you have any problems. Bring me a check. I’m easy to track down.”

Before he could get a phone number, something that might come in handy for a landlord, Janet was gone.

“Guess I’ll be making another visit to Sweetwater Souvenir soon.” Caleb stretched out his legs and focused on the peekaboo view of shining Otter Lake. Why hadn’t he spent more time in Sweetwater? Resting his head against the back of the chair was nice, but his eyelids grew heavy. Something about the place was sapping his restless energy. He should get up.

He should do a lot of things, but the truth was that work could wait. His problems would still be there after a short nap.

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