Written in the Stars Page 6

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. I fell out of the raft twice.” She held up two fingers. “But I loved it...well, except for the night noises and complete darkness. When you’re a city girl, thick, black darkness can be quite scary, not that I wouldn’t give it a go again. Being a bit frightened is part of any adventure, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I have to agree. It’s all about the adrenaline rush.”

  “No doubt! Well, I’m certainly impressed by your campfire cuisine.”

  “After mastering a campfire, cooking in the kitchen is a breeze. How about you?”

  “Not so breezy.” Grace really didn’t want to explain that she’d grown up with a cook in the house. Her mother enjoyed cooking but didn’t have the time. Of course, Grace could have been like Sophia and watched meals being prepared, but Grace was always too antsy to sit around the kitchen island for any length of time. “I’m always on the move, so I never really put much effort into fixing my own meals. Why cook when you can unwrap a cheeseburger?”

  Mason made a face.

  “Oh, stop. Fast food is a guilty pleasure, but I know my way around fine cuisine.” She tilted her head. “But in truth, what I love the most is discovering hole-­in-­the-­wall restaurants that serve up amazing local dishes. Getting lost in the middle of nowhere has its rewards.”

  “Wine and Diner up on Main Street serves up comfort food with a gourmet twist. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the menu there.”

  “Sounds lovely.” Grace nodded, hoping he might offer to take her there, but he started walking toward the office again.

  “The food is really delicious. It used to be Myra’s Diner, you know, Southern comfort food like pot roast and meat loaf.”

  “Chicken-­fried steak? Mashed potatoes?”

  Mason nodded. “The best.”

  Grace groaned. “Stop, you’re killing me. So the diner changed hands?”

  “Sort of,” he said, while looking through some notes on the desk. “When hard times hit, Myra’s niece came back from Chicago, where she was a chef at some big-­time restaurant downtown. Jessica was supposed to only help get the diner back on its feet but ended up taking over, so now it’s a blend of old-­fashioned favorites and Jessica’s specialties. Jess married Ty McKenna, a major league baseball player who now coaches the Cricket Creek Cougars.”

  Grace shook the bag and located the biggest pork rind. “While she was in London, Mattie told me about some of the movers and shakers who moved to Cricket Creek over the past few years. Including, of course, my mother’s ex-­husband, Rick Ruleman.”

  “We sure were blown away when he moved here.” Mason stopped what he was doing and looked at her as if suddenly remembering her connection to the famous rock-­star legend.

  “I know.” Grace nodded. “If you had told me a few years ago that Rick would have ended up starting his own record label catering to country and bluegrass music, I would have laughed in your face.”

  “I can understand why you would feel that way,” Mason said, but Grace sensed him pulling away from their earlier easy bantering. “I can’t imagine...,” he began, but then stopped and nibbled on his bottom lip.

  “Imagine what?” Grace quit crunching and looked at him, even though she was pretty sure what was coming.

  “Nothing.”

  “In my experience, nothing always means a great big something,” Grace said lightly, trying to bring back some humor, but Mason didn’t even crack a smile. “So what is your something?”

  After another slight hesitation, he said, “I’m just a country boy, Grace. I guess it just hit me that you grew up around really famous people. And...” He trailed off again, but Grace knew that he wanted to say something about being wealthy.

  “So?” She tapped her foot, waiting, and then felt silly and stopped tapping. “Go on, then.”

  “I don’t know.” Mason shoved his fingers through his hair. “Why are you getting mad at me? You forced it out of me.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that people tend to get the wrong impression about my lifestyle. I get kind of touchy about it. Not your fault.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. I really like Garret and Sophia too. But I understand what you’re saying. When I knew who Garret was, I wasn’t exactly thrilled when he started seeing my sister. I don’t have to tell you about Garret’s player reputation, which was splashed all over the tabloids. I didn’t want my sister to get hurt by the rich son of a rock star out to have a good time.”

  “Things aren’t always as they seem,” Grace said with an edge of defense in her tone.

  “I get that now.” Mason sat down on the edge of the desk and crossed his ankles. “I’m not a judgmental person, and I was completely wrong about your brother. And Rick doesn’t look anything like he did back in his leather-­and-­long-­hair rocker days, so I don’t think of him from back then. I guess for a moment I just forgot about all of that, not that it matters. So will you give me a break?”

  “Your arm or leg?”

  “My nose,” Mason said, and gave her a small grin.

  “I’d probably swing and miss.”

  “Okay, then.” Mason stood up and took a step closer. He tapped the bridge of his nose with his finger. “Go ahead.”

  “No, thanks, you don’t deserve it.” Grace lifted one shoulder and then looked down at the pork rinds, which were holding less appeal. She seriously needed to get rid of that chip on her shoulder.

  “Good, because I think you’d pack quite a punch if you connected.”

  “Well, you know, I get it. And Garret didn’t help matters by all of his shenanigans caught by the paparazzi. He egged it on just to get his father’s attention, and of course worried my mother to death. But we didn’t live the kind of pampered, reality-­show-­worthy lifestyle that people imagine.” While she knew that her upbringing was anything but normal, her mother had made sure that she and Sophia worked their tails off, not only to become successful, but also to be just good, caring people. In truth, after her divorce from Rick Ruleman, her mother modeled for only a couple of years, to earn enough money to start her own business. Becca never expected one swimsuit poster to make her into a household name, and to this day she still hated when it was mentioned. Grace’s father hated when it was mentioned even more. At least Mason was too young to have had the poster hung up on his bedroom wall. “Let’s just drop the subject, shall we?”

  Mason raised his hands in surrender. “Like a hot potato.”

  “Oh, there you go mentioning food again!”

  Mason laughed and the mood lightened. “Well, I have to say that it’s really cool to have a recording studio in Cricket Creek. We’re getting all kinds of talent in from Nashville, thanks to Garret. And even though we don’t get the Sing for Me competition here on a local television station, we were able to view it on the Web and had watch parties on the big screen at Sully’s Tavern.”

  “Really? That’s so wonderful. Does Garret know?”

  “Of course.” Mason seemed to find what he was looking for on the cluttered desk. “We’re really proud of him.”

  “Me too.” Mason’s straightforward admission put a lump in Grace’s throat. Even though her mother never spoke poorly of Rick Ruleman, Grace grew up resenting him because of his lack of interest in Garret’s childhood. Grace’s own father had been missing in action in her own life, so she understood some of Garret’s void, but she never had to endure having her father’s crazy exploits splashed all over the tabloids—­most of them with starlets half his age. Desperate for his father’s attention, Garret had tried his best to outdo his father in the public eye. Classic but sad. “It’s good to see Garret getting recognition for his talent rather than his antics.”

  Mason looked up from the note he was reading. “Danny is on the wild side too. Always doing some fool thing that drove my parents crazy. Still does, now and then.
”

  “I guess there has to be one in every family.” The fact that Garret and Rick had mended their fences and Garret was a talent scout for My Way Records was nothing short of a miracle. But for Grace, the best part, other than Garret’s marriage to Mattie, was that Garret had made it as a judge on Sing for Me on his own merit, not on the coattails of his father.

  “Okay...” Mason started looking through some keys dangling from hooks on a big board behind a desk. “Mattie also told me that Sophia is an amazing hairstylist sought after by celebrities. So what is she doing cooking and waiting tables at the bistro?”

  “To help out, but she also needed a break from the stress of being in a high-­end salon in New York City. She specialized in brides...Can you imagine?” Grace shuddered.

  “And your mother designs clothing that Mattie says isn’t fancy but for the everyday person, and she’s coming out with a cute line for babies.”

  “Mattie has told you quite a lot.”

  “She’s confined to bed rest. When you visit, she holds you captive.”

  “I would be the same way.”

  Mason gave her a look that said he believed her. “But seriously, you come from a talented family, Grace.”

  “Thank you.”

  He unhooked a key from the grid. “So what’s your talent?”

  “Talking.”

  “Oh, come on.” Mason glanced over his shoulder and laughed, but Grace wasn’t really joking all that much. Sure, her Girl Code line of edgy cosmetics was pretty damned cool, but it was her ability to sell that made the product take off. She also knew the value of finding the perfect niche in the marketplace, which more often than not meant finding a demographic that was being ignored or neglected. “Elaborate for me.”

  “Sales and marketing is my thing, which equated to being really good at persuasive speaking.”

  “Hey, that’s a talent, in my book.”

  “Thank you. I like your book.” And his book had a very nice cover.

  Mason chuckled. “Okay.” He looked at the selection of cabin keys again and then turned to her. “Danny has you in cabin twenty-­three up by the lake.”

  The tone of Mason’s voice had her asking, “Is that not good?”

  “Well, Mattie and Garret’s cabin is right over there.” He pointed to the left. “And the bistro is up on the hill. Danny has you up in the wooded area overlooking the lake. Pretty setting and conveniently located.”

  “Where’s Sophia’s cabin?”

  “Sophia is actually staying in the only high-­rise in Cricket Creek. It’s just down the road near the baseball stadium. She wanted to be close to town and shopping. Of course, that’s an option for you too, but I can’t help you with that one.”

  “Oh, now that I think of it, she mentioned that. What are my other options?”

  “I do have something that you will think is either cool or a pain in the butt.”

  The tone of his voice captured her interest. “What?”

  “I have a cabin over by the covered slips that’s actually built on a slab out on the water. It used to be the main office until we built this bigger one with the shop. You have to walk on the dock to get to it or use a boat, but you might find it fun to be surrounded by water. There’s a back deck with patio furniture and a grill.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Mason grinned. “I kind of thought you would.” He tossed her the keys and she surprised herself by catching them.

  “Good catch.”

  “Lucky catch.”

  “Let’s get you settled in and then locate Sophia,” he said. “If she’s not at the bistro, I’ll take you over to her apartment.”

  “Thanks. Hopefully she’s charged her phone and I can finally get in touch with her.”

  “Your phone should be charged now too. We’ll stop back at the brewery, get your phone, and grab your suitcase. I just need to close things up here,” he said, but then his cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” Fishing it out of his pocket, he said, “Oh, it’s Mom, probably wondering if you’re settled in yet.” Mason answered, “Hi, Mom...whoa, wait a minute, slow down...what? Mattie’s in labor? But isn’t it too soon?” He glanced over at Grace, and her eyes widened. “Yeah...I still have Grace with me. No...no, we’ll be right there.”

  “Oh my God!” Grace grabbed his extended hand. A moment later they were out the door.

  4

  The Road Less Traveled

  BECCA GORDON DROVE DOWN THE WINDING ROAD A good ten miles per hour over the legal limit, but she didn’t care one bit that she was speeding. She was on a mission. Getting to Cricket Creek in time for the birth of her first grandchild had her taking the next bend like a NASCAR driver. The rear tires of the rented sedan skidded into the gravel off the side of the road, but she gripped the steering wheel tighter and carried on as if she wasn’t terrified to drive so fast.

  The plane ride from London had seemed to take days to land, with the hardest part not being able to use her cell phone to keep up on the progress of Mattie’s labor. Because she was nearly a month early, they had put her on meds to keep the contractions from progressing. Garret was a complete wreck with worry, and although Becca had said words of encouragement to him, she was worried sick too.

  Becca looked at the GPS on the dash of her car and wanted to weep. She still had nearly thirty minutes to go! God, how she wanted to be at the hospital holding her son’s hand! At the straight stretch of road she gave the accelerator a bit more of a push and watched the red needle of the speedometer hit ninety. “Oh...I should slow down,” Becca whispered, but when the GPS indicated that she had eaten up some of the travel time, she kept going. She wasn’t one to break rules, but out on this country road, surely no one would care. Except for a big green tractor she’d passed a few miles ago, she seemed to be the only one on the road anyway.

  And then she saw blue lights in her rearview mirror.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” In a panic, part of Becca had the wild urge to go faster to outrun the cop, but when he put his siren, on she knew she’d better pull over. “Damn the luck!” Letting out a little squeal of frustration, she slowed down and eased the car off to the side of the road. She couldn’t care less about getting a ticket, but just wanted to get to the hospital. Of course, just as the officer was striding her way, she got a text message from Garret saying that they were going to take the baby via cesarean section. Becca inhaled a shaky breath and sent a message back that she would be there soon, and then rolled the window down when the officer reached the side of her car.

  “Do you know why I pulled you over, ma’am?”

  “Yes,” Becca said, “I was speeding, but—”

  “So.” He pushed his mirrored aviator glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Do you know how fast you were going?”

  “Yes, ninety, I think, but—”

  “I need to see your driver’s license, proof of insurance, and registration,” he said in a no-­nonsense tone of voice.

  “Please listen, you don’t understand.”

  “I understand that you were speeding.”

  “I know, but...” She fumbled around for her purse. “It’s...this isn’t my car,” Becca said, nearly in tears. She handed him her driver’s license with shaking fingers. “I’m so sorry for speeding, but I’ve flown in from London and I desperately want to get to the hospital in Cricket Creek for the birth of my grandchild. My dear Mattie went into early labor. They’re doing a C-­section and my son is worried sick. Please, can you...can you just let me go? I promise to slow down, but I must get there—”

  “Wait.” The officer abruptly looked up. “Mattie Mayfield?”

  “Well, Mattie Ruleman now, but yes.”

  He handed back the license.

  “Follow me,” he said in that same don’t-­mess-­with-­me tone.

  “Are you taking me to jail?” B
ecca’s heart thudded. She’d never been in trouble for anything, not even a parking ticket.

  The officer chuckled, but even that sounded stern. “No, I’m giving you a police escort. I know a faster shortcut to the hospital.”

  “You’ll do that for me?” Becca wanted to jump out of the car and hug him.

  “I know the Mayfields well. I go way back with Mattie’s father. This is how we do things in a small town. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, sir.” Becca nodded, and kind of wanted to salute.

  “But listen.” His smile faded. “Be careful. I’ll go as fast as I can.”

  “I’ll stick to you like glue,” Becca promised, and a moment later she was flying down the road following the police cruiser. He made a turn down a bumpy back road, but Becca didn’t care that she was kicking up dust like a scene from The Dukes of Hazzard. This was the kind of adventure that would terrify Sophia, she thought, but Grace would be holding on tightly and laughing.

  Becca heard her phone ping but didn’t dare look anywhere but at the winding road. When a big barn loomed ahead of her, she thought for a wild moment that they were going to drive straight through the opening, scattering chickens and busting through bales of hay. And dammit, she was going to do it! But the squad car veered to the left and Becca found herself on a narrow road cutting through a cornfield. “Dear God!” Becca could have reached out the window and picked an ear of corn if she hadn’t had a death grip on the steering wheel. Another left turn had them on a paved two-­lane road driving past farms and grazing cows. At least she thought they were cows. Everything was a blur.

  A few moments later they pulled into the entrance to a hospital.

  Becca came to a screeching stop behind the police car at the main entrance. The officer got out and hurried to her side. “The visitor parking lot is to your right. I have a call to respond to or I’d go in with you.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “No need to thank me, ma’am. My job is to serve and protect.” He tipped his hat. “Give Mattie my best,” he said and then pointed a stern finger at her. “But no more speeding.”