exactly what Mom and Dad need. An answered prayer.”
Olivia set the pickle jar on the table. “You can determine that this early? He’s barely been here a couple of weeks.”
“That’s longer than you stayed the last time.”
Gut-punched, Olivia forced a smile, unwilling to let her sister drag her into a war of words. Again.
“Mom and Dad like him?”
“You think they’d be gadding about this time of year if they didn’t? I admit he’s on the uptight side. But once the rawness of that Vegas encounter wears off, I imagine he’ll fit in here fine.”
Uptight might describe him now if his earlier, curt remark could be used as evidence, but that wasn’t an accurate description of the Rob she knew in college. Her memory flashed to a long-cherished image of him. His eyes closed. Humming softly. Fingering the strings of his guitar as light from a campfire played across his features.
“He certainly was motivated, ambitious, but never uptight.”
“People change, I guess.” Paulette glanced at her watch, then snatched her purse from the table. “Gotta go. Have to be at work by eight-fifteen.”
“You’re working now? Outside the home?” Her sister had always been adamant about being there for the kids. Vowed they’d live off beans and soup until her offspring graduated if that’s what it took to be a full-time mother and homemaker.
Paulette scowled, her tone defensive. “The kids are in public school now.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Wyatt’s Grocery. Clerking.”
“Busy place,” she commiserated, hoping to establish common ground with her too-sensitive big sis. She remembered her own demanding high school schedule at the local grocer’s bakery and deli departments. “On your feet all day.”
Paulette grimaced and turned away toward the living room as if she’d already shared more than she’d intended. “So, how long are you staying this time?”
Too long to suit her sister, no doubt. Mom and Dad were understanding when she popped in and out of town. Not Paulette. And maybe not Mom and Dad if hiring Rob was any indication. She couldn’t blame them for that. After all, hadn’t she herself told them—after her oldest sister pummeled her self-confidence—that it wouldn’t work out?
“I don’t know,” she said, following her sibling to the adjoining room. It had been so clear on the drive home that she’d given up too easily last year, hadn’t stood her ground. But with her parents turning to a stranger to fill the Singing Rock management role …
“One word of advice.” Paulette jerked open the front door and stepped onto the shaded porch. Her hand still on the doorknob, she turned with an uncompromising glare. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing coming back here right now, but don’t go getting any ideas about Rob McGuire.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know what I’m talking about. He can’t be another notch on your love life gun belt. The future of Singing Rock is riding on him and you can’t come bounding in here with your typical puppy-dog enthusiasm, straining a working relationship with Mom and Dad’s new manager. I think you owe them that.”
Her sister pulled the door firmly shut behind her.
Olivia stood riveted to the floor. Her love life gun belt? Puppy-dog enthusiasm? And what did she mean the future of Singing Rock was riding on Rob? Just because Mom and Dad were eager to retire and none of their daughters or sons-in-law had an interest in carrying the torch of the family business? That may have been true at one point. But not now. Not after she’d regained confidence, had time to reconsider.
But, of course, if it was up to Paulette, she’d never get that opportunity—unless she could wrest the job from Rob without her sibling’s knowledge and prove to the family once and for all she could do it.
Back in the kitchen, she opened a can of mixed fruit and sat down to eat while perusing her mother’s stack of Good Housekeeping. But an hour later she realized she’d glanced solely at the photos, none of the text. Her mind was too preoccupied with plotting how she could convince her parents she was here to stay this time—and troubling over Rob McGuire’s uncharacteristic behavior.
While he’d always fully focused on whatever goal was set before him, he used to be easygoing. Sure, he’d been a serious thinker back then, but now he was serious. The Rob of old never would have cut off a friendly overture with a remark like that.
A chirping sound echoed through the kitchen. She tracked it to a cell phone—tucked under a philodendron’s foliage—where it must have slid from Paulette’s purse. She snatched it up and punched what she hoped was the right button.
“Hello?”
There was a hesitation on the other end. “Paulette?”
She recognized the voice and caught her breath. “This is Olivia.”
Another pause. “This is Rob McGuire. Would you please put her on?”
“She left without her phone. Could I get a message to her?”
He hesitated again and she envisioned him raking a hand through his sun-streaked hair, a familiar gesture she remembered well. “After what happened at Timberline, I decided to check out the rest of the property. And there’s a problem.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning someone tagged Bristlecone.”
“They did what?”
“Spray-painted graffiti on interior walls,” he clarified in a tight voice. “And your name figures prominently in the artwork.”
“I should have asked her to have Paulette call me. That’s it.” Grumbling aloud, Rob dug around in the property’s Jeep Wrangler, trying to find his pen.
He wasn’t required to bring the oldest Diaz daughter up to speed on Singing Rock business, but she’d asked him to keep her in the loop while her parents were gone. Wanting to stay on the good side of a woman he suspected could influence the outcome of this new venture, he’d indulged her. He didn’t think she questioned his authority, but sought to protect her parents’ rare time off. She needn’t have worried. This sort of thing didn’t warrant, in his estimation, a call to Paul and Rosa.
But now Olivia was on her way, insisting she needed to take a look at the damage he’d unthinkingly brought to her attention. He hadn’t missed the earlier dismay that crossed her pretty, animated features when he told her he was the new manager. Almost as if she didn’t think him sufficiently competent to handle it. Which was a real turnaround from what he could remember of her now that he’d had time to think about it.
Back in college she always seemed to show up when he least expected it. An idealistic, high-spirited sprite, trying hard to get his attention. Hanging on his every word. Thinking he could do no wrong.
His stomach twisted at the sound of an approaching vehicle. Probably hers. He sucked in a weary breath. Do no wrong. She’d
