Broken Hero

Didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate beauty where I saw it-not to mention her mouth! I chuckle when I think of her parting words. The Morris special is terrible. It sure was-a terrible idea from the beginning.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

Back at the ranch, the birdwatchers have settled in without a hitch. I even hear Mandy downstairs in reception joke with them from my office. She tells some sort of bird joke and is rewarded with roaring laughter. I can practically see the five-star reviews rolling in.

That afternoon, I walk towards my house-one of the few buildings left not converted into housing for guests-with Austin winding his way between my legs.

“You’re a clingy bastard, aren’t you?”

He looks up at me with adoring eyes, and I give him a pat on the head, right between two fluffy ears. “Let’s get you some food.”

But the house isn’t empty. Someone is whistling, out-of-tune and very loudly, from the kitchen.

“Sarah?”

She doesn’t reply, so I follow the scent of vanilla to the kitchen. Sarah is dressed in a frilly apron, dusting a tray of muffins with icing sugar. Her look of intense concentration dissolves into a giant smile as soon as she sees me.

I’m instantly suspicious.

“Hi, Oliver.”

“What do you want?”

“Why do you think I want something? I just felt like baking in this old kitchen again. Have a muffin.”

I take a cautious step forward. “You rarely have time for this. Where are the kids?”

“With their grandma. And I bake all the time.”

“You only ever bake when you need something.”

“That’s not true.”

I cross my arms across my chest. “Yes, it is. When you were in seventh grade you made me blueberry pie and then asked me to do your biology homework.”

“Only because you were better at it than me. You’d been in school longer!”

“I think it was banana bread when you borrowed my car, without asking, and managed to scratch the paint.”

“Coincidental.” Sarah slings a towel over her shoulder. “I just like to experiment. And let’s not rehash all those old incidents. It’s water under the bridge.”

“Sure.” I take a seat on the stool by the kitchen island and grab one of the raspberry-vanilla muffins. “At least let me have a couple of bites before you hit me with the bad news.”

“I don’t have bad news!”

I taste the still-warm muffin. I had to give it to her-they were great. But what I discover makes me even more suspicious. “You even put pecans in them?”

“Am I the best baby sister or what?”

“Who did you kill and what evidence do I need to dispose of?”

She laughs. “You’re too suspicious for your own good.”

“Observant,” I correct. “Well-trained.”

“It’s not really a favor, anyway.” She slides into the chair opposite me and grabs a muffin of her own. “It’s more of a really, really, really good idea.”

“If the idea is truly that great, why do I need pastries to be convinced?”

“Because you’re resistant to change.”

I suppress a sigh. “Tell me.”

“Remember the new girl in town that I told you about the other day? The Rhodes’ niece?”

I give a non-committal nod and reach for another muffin. Yes, I knew the Rhodes’ niece, alright. The image of her flashed before my eyes again. Slim and strong, with the eyes of a dreamer.

“I heard from Mrs. Masters that she just happens to be a massage therapist. That’s what she was working with, back in Dallas.”

“A masseuse,” I repeat.

“A massage therapist.”

“Right. And what about it?” It was the last thing I had imagined Lucy to do for a living, but then again, she was clearly not a baker.

“Well, I was thinking… we have that building out by the western field. The one with the red roof? It’s very spacious.”

“It’s spacious because it’s a reception hall. One that’s in use.”

“But we’ve only had use for it twice in the past four years,” Sarah says excitedly. “We don’t need it for wedding receptions, either, because it’s too secluded. I have a brilliant idea… let’s convert it into a wellness and spa area! All fancy retreats have them.”

“We already have a gym.”

“No, we have a depressing corner with two treadmills and a few weights. But imagine if we make it into a proper gym with a spa area. A massage room… perhaps even a sauna? We could put the old hot tub right outside it, and then we’d hire Lucy on an ad hoc basis for as long as she’s in town! It’s the perfect solution.”

“We don’t have a problem, so she’s not a solution,” I grind out. “The reception hall is useful.”

“But not as useful as a spa section would be. Imagine how good it would look in our advertising! Morris Ranch, Retreat and Spa. A place to truly relax.”

“We don’t have enough guests for it.”

“Which is why it would work great to hire her as a consultant! She’s already working at the bakery and would only come up here when needed, whenever a guest books a massage treatment.”

I go to the fridge and rummage around for a can of beer. As ideas go, it’s not Sarah’s worst. I might not be one for all that essential oil stuff, but I would have to be blind not to see the potential value-monetarily. The same people who come out here to be close to nature, who want to ride the trails and pick their own strawberries, would also love a hot stone massage and a dip in the hot tub. It’s exactly the kind of fancy shit that city folk pay top dollar for.

Sarah whoops in triumph behind me. “You’re silent. You’re actually silent for once, Ollie. I know what that means. I win!”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“But you’re considering it! I can run some numbers if you like.”