More Than a Memory. Roz Denny Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ a tour of Smoky Mountain National Park.”

      “Ah. Then could you recommend another hotel in town? Anyplace clean and safe.”

      “You won’t find any vacancies in the valley. White Oak Valley’s Spring Arts and Crafts Fair starts tomorrow. There’s nothing from now until the Mountain Music Festival in mid-June. All area hotels and resorts are booked as much as a year in advance.”

      “I see.” Jo returned her credit card to her purse. Her thoughts tumbled back to the award certificates in her car. Was that the same mountain music festival? If so, it would pay off to see if anyone connected to judging the contest remembered her. Jo’s experience in the world of music told her the same folks judged year after year. Someone was bound to remember a girl talented enough to win so many contests.

      Thanking Trish Collier for her time, Jo left the resort. Possibly she’d have to leave the valley now and come back for the music festival in June. It went without saying that she was hugely disappointed.

      Jo decided to take the long route out of town, admiring the scenery on both sides of the country road. That was how she came to spot a bed-and-breakfast with a Vacancy sign blowing gently in the late-afternoon breeze. Jo’s heart beat faster. Could she be so lucky?

      She quickly made a U-turn and sped back to take a closer look at the two-story home with its wide, appealing veranda. Everything about it, from its butter-yellow paint to Wedgewood-blue shutters, to the American flag fluttering above the broad front steps, looked inviting. A handicap ramp made the wicker porch furniture accessible to any manner of traveler.

      Jo pulled in, got out and practically skipped up to the front door. “Hi,” she called to a young woman she spotted through the screen. “Is your Vacancy sign for real? I understood most area hotels are booked solid till June.”

      A slender blond woman opened the screen door. “I wish that was true for us. We have six rooms to rent. You can have your pick.” She named a price and said it included breakfast, plus afternoon tea and a homemade snack.

      Jo thought that amount was more than reasonable. “Do you take credit cards?” If they operated on a cashonly basis that would be a drawback. She couldn’t fathom why else the other accommodations were full and not this charming place.

      “We take all major credit cards. By the way, I’m Kendra Rowan. Welcome to Buttercup Cottage.” Kendra stepped aside, allowing her guest to enter. “My husband, Jim, and I have spent the better part of two years renovating this house. It belonged to Jim’s grandmother. We’re originally from California. Jim was an army cook. He, uh, lost both his legs when his convoy was hit by an IED in Iraq.” Kendra paused to draw a breath. “That’s probably way more than you want to know. Jim always says I tend to ramble. But I wanted to assure you he’s still a great cook.”

      “I’m so sorry,” Jo burst out. “You’re both to be commended. This place looks fabulous. It had to be a huge undertaking with or without handicaps.”

      “Our biggest challenge came after Jim’s surgery. He’d always dreamed of opening a restaurant one day. After his accident, he lost heart. All the credit goes to the rehab doctors and nurses who convinced him a kitchen could be modified. Jim’s so close to realizing his dream, if we can attract more customers like you.”

      Jo saw Kendra discreetly wipe a tear from her cheek. “Once word gets out, you’ll be swamped,” Jo said earnestly, handing over her credit card. “Charge three nights. If I decide to stay longer, I’ll let you know.” Jo was tempted to share her own story with Kendra, but something held her back. Until she found out exactly what her connection was to this town, it might be better not to give Kendra or her husband any reason to mistrust her.

      With the paperwork complete, Jo accepted Kendra’s suggestion of a second-floor room decorated in cool blues and Victorian furniture. A dormer window overlooked the valley that was again layered with gauzy, bluish fog.

      When Jo commented on the mist, her hostess said, “Jim’s dad grew up in this house. He told us the Cherokee called this territory Shaconage.” She pronounced it sha-con-ah-jey. “The name means ‘land of blue smoke.’If this is your first visit to the Great Smoky Mountains, I hope you plan on seeing our many historic sites. I thought it would be hard to leave the bright lights of San Francisco, but in the two years we’ve been here, I’ve fallen under the mountains’ magic spell. I tell Jim it’s like we’re living in a fairyland. You’ll see what I mean.”

      Jo surprised herself by saying, “This isn’t my first visit to the valley.” When it seemed as if Kendra was waiting for her to elaborate, Jo added, “But I was here so long ago everything seems brand-new.”

      Kendra put down the flowered pillow she’d been plumping. “White Oak Valley seems stuck in slow motion to me. But given the changes we’ve made to this house, it probably looks a lot different from when you were last here. Well, I’ll let you get settled in. If you need anything, just let me know.”

      “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I may hike into town for dinner and make it an early night. The mountain air has sapped my energy.”

      Kendra nodded. “If you’d rather not walk to town, Jim can fix you a sandwich. We have lemonade or iced tea. You can eat on the veranda, in the breakfast room or up here. Our hope is that guests will consider Buttercup Cottage a temporary home.”

      “No need to put your husband out. I know there’s a café on Main Street. Is that the extent of places to eat in White Oak Valley?” Jo hoped not. She wasn’t looking forward to a second encounter with Mildred.

      “There’s Logan’s Pub, but you’d have to drive there. It’s at the opposite end of town from us. They serve steak, chicken and great burgers, which all come with their signature coleslaw and steak fries.”

      Wasn’t that just her luck? “That seems like more food than I had in mind. I think I’ll accept your offer of a sandwich and iced tea. I’ll bring in my suitcase and then come down and enjoy a peaceful evening on the veranda.”

      Kendra beamed. “Jim will be thrilled to serve our first customer. Anytime you want breakfast tomorrow, poke your head in the kitchen. Once we get full up we’ll set more structured meal times. Until then, we’ll operate on a looser schedule. I’ll hear if you go out. I’ll freshen your towels and make up your room then. Eventually we’ll hire staff, but for now it’s just us.”

      “That sounds fine to me.” Jo left to collect her things from her car. Two vehicles, a car and a pickup, passed as she retrieved her bag and her violin from the trunk. It seemed to her that both drivers slowed and were staring at her. But maybe she was paranoid. Buttercup Cottage did sit on a sharp curve. It was why she’d slowed for a closer look. Yep, she was paranoid.

      Kendra met her at the door and held it open for her. “Let me run your things upstairs. Jim said if you’ll take a seat at the wicker table, he’ll bring a tray right out. Ohh, do you play the fiddle?” Kendra asked excitedly when Jo passed her the case. “Logan’s Pub features a bluegrass band on weekends.We go every chance we get.”

      “I play violin,” Jo corrected. “I’m a concert violinist. As a matter of fact, if it won’t disturb you, I should do a little practicing. I won’t if other guests check in.”

      “You go right ahead. Practice to your heart’s content. Did you notice the piano in the sitting room? Jim plays when I beg him. We want guests to feel free to use it, too. Maybe you guys could knock out a duet while you’re here.”

      Jo СКАЧАТЬ