braces and her father’s cautious smile handed Ella a metal key attached to a thin strip of wood that had the words Blue Bonnet carved in it.
“Gabby,” Mitch gently chastised. “That’s not the way we market the Lodgepole Inn.”
The preteen shrugged. “I did a paper on the history of the town.”
“We don’t know for sure it was a brothel,” Mitch said apologetically, as if it might matter to the Monroes. “Some people say it was a barracks for the cavalry. I can tell from the architecture it was originally two large, two-story cabins with a stable in between. You’ll see several different types of cabins in town—round-log, square-log and brick.”
“Our round-log inn was a brothel.” Gabby frowned at her father. “I even footnoted it in my report.”
“I’d like to read it.” Ella’s interest was sincere. History added value to property. The information the lawyer had given her included when structures were built and what their exterior dimensions were, but not much else.
Mitch’s smile hardened at her request. “Ella, if you need anything let us know.” He waved a hand toward the stairs, which were made of pine and had a rustic lodgepole-pine railing.
“What we’d like to know,” Shane said, handing over his credit card, “is why my grandfather purchased this town.”
“Gabby, go get Shane the key to Sawtooth.” Mitch waited until his daughter disappeared into the back room. “He didn’t tell you?”
Shane shook his head.
“I don’t know,” Mitch said, not entirely believably.
“Really?” Shane rubbed his jaw and considered the innkeeper. “He bought this place from you a decade ago. You signed a lease for one dollar a year. You’re telling me that somewhere along the line you didn’t ask my grandfather why he was interested in your property?”
“You’re facing a dead end.” Gabby returned, placing the key and wooden key ring on the counter. “That’s about as much as I’ve gotten out of him.”
Mitch frowned. “Gabby, what have I told you about adult conversations?”
“I’m just trying to take on more responsibility in the family business, like you asked.” The preteen held up her hands. “I guess you don’t need help with check-in.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Mitch sighed and smiled at Ella, gesturing from his daughter to Penny. “Take notes. This is your future.” He turned to Shane. “If Harlan Monroe didn’t tell his family why he bought the town, you can assume he didn’t tell us, either.” He consulted a map of the inn. “Let’s put Laurel in the Meadow Room.”
“Mom.” Penny tugged at Ella’s leg with both hands. Her cheeks were flushed. “Want cookie.” She coughed.
Was that a productive cough? Or just an I-need-to-blow-my-nose cough? Ella dug in the diaper bag for a tissue and a small snack bag of bear-shaped graham crackers.
“In case you need anything to wash that cookie down with, there’s a kitchenette around the corner with a small fridge, a microwave and a sink,” Mitch said, using the interruption to gloss over Shane’s dig for information. “Help yourself to coffee or water.”
“I can store things in the refrigerator?” Ella thought about cheese sticks, milk and yogurt. “Is there a freezer?” For ice cream.
“No, sorry.” Mitch seemed genuinely apologetic.
“This is really fine work.” Laurel fingered the blue-and-brown quilt on the couch. “Who made this?”
“Odette.” Gabby bounded from behind the desk to the living room. “She’s super old.”
“Gabby.”
“That’s what she says,” Gabby countered, defending herself with a put-upon huff. “She lives down the road. She tried to teach me how to knit and sew, but I’m kind of a lost cause.”
“Meaning the knitting needles weren’t as interesting as a video game,” Mitch murmured half under his breath.
“I was just a kid when she tried to teach me before,” Gabby said. “Are you really Ashley Monroe’s twin? You look just like her.”
Laurel nodded, smiling weakly as if her stomach was still upset. It was a burden to look exactly like her famous sister.
“You were eleven when she tried to teach you,” Mitch said. “And you’re still a kid.”
“Dad. Don’t mind him. His bark is worse than his bite.” Gabby executed a disparaging eye roll to the ceiling before her glance landed on Laurel’s nearby feet. “I love your boots.”
“I got them at a vintage store in Hollywood.” Laurel traced the quilt pattern with her finger. “I’d love to meet Odette.”
Sophie was standing near the collection of items hanging on the inn’s wall—an old ice pick, a washboard, a bed warmer.
“Odette’s not much for strangers,” Mitch cautioned. “Took her months to warm up to Noah.”
Noah didn’t look like a doctor. He looked like he’d been in the mountains for too long and had just come down for a cup of coffee for the first time in months.
“Is Noah new to town?” Ella asked casually, pouring a little water into a small plastic cup in the kitchenette.
“Noah came to us months ago when we needed a new doctor.” Mitch answered Ella’s question, but he was still having a who-will-blink-first face-off with Shane. “Second Chance is the county seat. We have the only doctor and homeschooling coordinator for a hundred miles.”
“What happened to the old doctor?” Shane asked.
“Doc Carter?” Mitch’s expression turned grim. “She died.”
“This bed warmer is from Europe.” Sophie adjusted her glasses and peered at the back of the piece hanging from the wall. “Antique and highly valuable.”
“It was here when I bought the place eleven years ago,” Mitch said, not sounding impressed. “And before you question me about what your grandfather bought, he paid for the land and the structures in town, not anything inside where people were still living. So, if the bed warmer is worth anything and you want it, you can make me an offer.”
“That answers the question about why you sold this place to my grandfather.” Shane pulled the keys to the SUV from his pocket. “Money.”
“Shane,” Sophie chastised.
Ella wanted to second Sophie’s reprimand, but she wasn’t sure it would be well-received now that her place in the family seemed to be in doubt.
“What about properties where people weren’t living?” Laurel looked thoughtful. “And where businesses had gone under? There are a couple of vacant-looking buildings around here.”
There were more than a couple.
