His Winter Rose and Apple Blossom Bride by Lois Richer Page A

glass and glittering stainless steel. Cathcart House was as far from that as the prairies were from Serenity Bay.
    Big, comfy chairs and couches lay scattered around a room with vistas on three sides, hidden now by the night. Jason sat down in a leather recliner placed near a fireplace and found it exceedingly comfortable.
    “I love this chair,” he told her.
    “So did my grandfather. Some of the chintz Gran favored went to the city with them and was later sold off, but that chair had to stay here.”
    “You said you stayed with them?” he asked, hoping his curiosity wouldn’t show too much.
    “After my mother died. I came here mostly for summers and Christmas. I went to a boarding school the rest of the time.”
    That tiny bit of tension in her voice only added to the questions he had about her past, but before he could ask more she was carrying in a big, brown teapot and two chunky mugs to match.
    “Can I help?”
    “The pie is on the counter. Help yourself.”
    He did, then returned to his seat. Once she’d poured the tea he sat back and savored the flavors of cinnamon and cloves he tasted, watching Piper light a fire.
    “Did you bake this? It’s great.”
    “Nope. Sorry. I went to a bake sale the art guild was having. I wanted to buy something to support them. The pie looked good so I chose it.” She sipped her tea, watching him eat.
    “I missed a bake sale?” He frowned. “I never miss bake sales. It’s my one rule.”
    “Wow, you’re lucky if you have only one.” She giggled at his dismay. “I think I heard Ida say something about you holding a boating class that day. Don’t feel bad. You can take the rest of it home if you like. I’m not much of a pie eater.” Piper leaned back in the wing chair, her face lit by the flickering fire. “I was thinking about the hotel as I drove home. I have a couple of ideas floating around.”
    “Shoot.”
    Her head jerked up, her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
    “Go ahead. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
    The dark curls bobbed back and forth as she shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”
    “Why not?” Jason put his empty plate on the coffee table, picked up his mug. “Is it some kind of secret?”
    “No, of course not.” Piper’s attention was on the fire as she spoke. Her words emerged quiet, hesitant. “It’s just...my brain doesn’t work the way you might expect. I don’t have a hard-and-fast schedule or plan. Nothing is concrete. For now they’re just ideas.”
    “So?” Something was going on behind those dark eyes, something that made him curious and set a peculiar little nerve to twitching at the back of his neck. As if she was hiding something. “Tell me the ideas.”
    “It’s not quite that easy, Jason.” She raked a hand through her curls, tousling them even more. “They’re more like nebulous thoughts, glimmers, if you will. I have to let them mull for a while. I ask myself a question, poke around. Things start to gel and then I can really plough ahead. Do you understand?”
    He didn’t. Not really. But he tried to sound supportive. “Why don’t you tell me about your glimmers? Maybe we can brainstorm together.”
    Jason watched her closely, saw tinges of red dot her cheeks. He understood her embarrassment; the scoffing of some council members when he’d first presented his plan for the Bay still rankled.
    “I’m not going to laugh,” he promised.
    Piper studied him as if assessing his truthfulness. After a moment she let out a pent-up breath and began speaking.
    “This is purely brainstorming,” she warned.
    “I know.”
    “Serenity Bay is such a perfect name for this place,” she murmured. “I mean, think about it. That word conjures up peace, relaxation, no worries—all the things you want a vacation spot to be. But it has to work for everybody. Moms, dads, kids, seniors, young people, rich, not so rich.”
    “Yes,” he agreed, liking what he’d heard so far. Where was this going?
    “The beach will