Chapter 5

Rosie wasn’t sure what to think about Dallas. Last night, no one had mentioned that he had cognitive disabilities. Surely it would have come up.

“You like your uncle Dallas a lot. Right?” She wasn’t exactly pumping the kid for info. They were just having a conversation in her old Range Rover on the way to the main house.

“Yes, he’s so much fun.” Hugh thumbed behind him in the direction of the quarry. “When he and Worth—that’s his twin brother, in case you didn’t know they were twins—anyway, when they get together, they are so funny.”

She wasn’t sure beating the daylights out of each other qualified as fun, but she didn’t know for sure, since she didn’t have brothers. “Okay, what else?”

“What else, what?” Hugh looked up at her with his huge aqua eyes.

“What else do you like about him?” She couldn’t get the picture of that drool out of her head. “Is he nice?”

“Yep, he’s a good guy. He always has SweeTarts and lets me have some. He likes computer games and board games. Once, he let me drive Worth’s new truck, but we agreed that Worth didn’t need to know about that. Dallas runs the exotic-animal ranch. He lets me help him feed all the animals. They have zebras and camels and all sorts of animals. Did you know sloths only poop once a week?” Hugh bounced up and down in his seat with excitement. “They have hunting, but only for deer. There’s this big fence around the exotic ranch so no one hunts there.”

“That’s good, I guess.” She knew where the food she ate came from, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about hunting. “What else?”

“He has a huge TV and we have movie nights. I get to eat all the popcorn I want. Popcorn was invented by the Native Americans.” It seemed that Hugh loved Dallas for his junk food.

“What does your mom think about the all-you-can-eat popcorn?” Rosie had a feeling that Justus didn’t know. Not that she was a food nazi, but she liked to make sure Hugh ate some vegetables. Was corn still considered a vegetable if it was popped?

“She doesn’t ask and I don’t tell her.” He was all self-importance. “Dallas, Worth, and I have a man code. That means girls aren’t allowed, and what we do during man time is our own business.”

She nodded. “I can see how important the man code is to you. I won’t ask any more questions.”

It was good for Hugh to have positive male role models. Although, she wasn’t sure Worth and Dallas were positive role models. They sounded like big kids. Then again, weren’t most men really just big kids?

“Today Dallas told me I’ve got a big job… big brothers are very important.” His self-importance doubled.

“What do you mean?” She loved talking to Hugh. He was the most charming kid she’d ever met.

“I’ve got to protect AG. Also, I gotta play with her and rock her when she cries.” He made it sound like he’d gotten a special assignment from the CIA.

“That is very important.” She hoped she sounded sufficiently impressed. So, Dallas knew how to inspire a nine-year-old to start taking care of his little sister? Now that was impressive.

“I gotta kill all the monsters under her bed and help her not be scared during a thunderstorm.” He counted off on his fingers. “And, I gotta make sure she’s safe all the time.”

“That does sound like a tough job. I’m glad you’re her big brother, because you’re the best big brother ever.” She couldn’t help but smile at his grown-up resolve to carry out his duties no matter what.

“I know.” His tone said, “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

She delivered him to Bear for the Monopoly marathon and headed to the bed-and-breakfast.

She pulled up next to the first teepee. Pride made her smile. This wasn’t a conventional B&B. Luxury teepees and rustic-only-on-the-outside cabins were scattered along a beautiful stretch of the Guadalupe River. The teepees all had Native American tribal names, while the cabins were named after the men who’d settled Texas.

A large air-conditioned meeting room with a full kitchen was situated behind the teepees and cabins so that everyone had access to it. It could double as a dining room or a conference room for corporate events. They’d named it the Lodge.

She shaded her eyes from the sun as she grabbed the sketchbook she used to make notes and walked to the Lodge. The workers were installing the granite countertops today. She wanted to make sure everything ran smoothly. In her experience, things ran better when she watched every step of the process. It wasn’t micromanaging so much as being hands-on.

After flipping to the kitchen page in her book, she propped it up on a sawhorse the workers had used to make the cabinets. She glanced around the room. The cabinets were exactly as she’d planned—dark, rich cherry that would complement the Sienna Beige granite she’d personally picked out from the slabs at the granite yard. The white subway-tile backsplash gave the kitchen a clean look without being sterile. There were spaces for the commercial-grade appliances, and the soft-pearl-gray walls were warm and homey. The entire right wall had been painted with chalkboard paint so that she could keep the guests abreast of any and all activities or points of interest they might like to visit.

She nodded to herself. It was coming together nicely.

Thunder crackled in the distance.

It appeared that Hugh would get to protect AG from thunderstorms sooner than he’d expected. She could imagine him with his foam sword standing over her. Thank goodness AG loved him or she’d be terrified.

Light rain patted against the metal roof as thunder rattled against the windows.

Wouldn’t you know it, she needed to check on the Villa at the top of the hill overlooking the vineyard. If she didn’t get going, all she’d get for her trouble was a muddy mess.

Thunder rumbled again. The storm was getting closer.

She picked up her sketch pad, flipped the cover closed, and stuffed it inside her suit jacket. She threw open the front door and dashed out into the rain. When she was little, her mother had told her to run between the raindrops. She remembered trying to do just that.

Rosie shook her head as she opened the Ranger Rover’s door. That memory of her mother was so clear to her. It had been during one of her mother’s manic episodes. Bipolar disorder was a roller-coaster ride of the highest highs and the lowest lows. Looking back on it, she couldn’t decide what was worse, the manic episodes or the depression. The only thing worse than either had been her mother’s drug use.

She slammed the door and started up the Rover. Having four-wheel drive was a blessing out here. She put it in four-wheel high and drove across the low-water crossing to the other bank of the Guadalupe. She pulled into the Villa’s crushed-granite parking pad, shoved her sketch pad in her leather work tote, and braced herself for the soggy jog ahead.

Now she was willing to admit that leaving the landscape natural and only cutting a golf-cart-sized path to the Villa had been a very bad idea. Lucy and Justus had tried to talk her out of it, but Rosie had insisted that the Villa, a.k.a. the honeymoon suite, needed to be private. She’d gotten caught up in the romance of it all. Big mistake… huge. She threw her phone into her work tote, made sure her iPad was inside, and zipped up the bag. She threw open the door and shoved her umbrella in the space between the door and the doorframe and hit the button to open it. Three of the skinny metal bars that were supposed to hold it up failed, and one side of the umbrella was limp and completely useless. She’d forgotten to replace it after it had broken the last time she’d used it. She tossed the worthless thing in the backseat, held her leather bag over her head, and slid out of the Rover. Her feet and her favorite black Jimmy Choos hit a mud puddle and sank a good two inches. She pried her feet out of the mud and slogged up the winding limestone path up the hill to the Villa. What she wouldn’t give for a golf cart, or even an umbrella that worked, or heck, some ugly work boots.

She rolled her eyes.

It was a sad state of affairs that she was even entertaining the idea of ugly work boots.

She trudged up the five steps onto the front patio and twisted the handle of the front door. It was locked.

“Really? Are you kidding me right now?” she screamed, in case anyone cared.

Everyone had told her that it wasn’t necessary to lock the doors, but she’d insisted.

The storm was raging now. Sheets of rain pelted the aluminum roof. She steeled herself for another run in the rain to get the keys, and then the mental image of the Villa’s keys sitting on the cottage’s kitchen counter popped into her head.

For someone who was known for her planning skills, she really was knocking unprepared out of the park. She glanced down the hill in the direction of her Rover. She dropped her bag on one of the wicker rocking chairs on the front porch. Was it her imagination or did it sound like the water in the Guadalupe River was getting closer?

The low-water crossing would be completely covered by a raging froth of white-water rapids by now. It didn’t look like she was going anywhere, because even the best four-wheel drive in the world could make it across the river.

“Turn around, don’t drown” was a popular battle cry in Central Texas, particularly in what was known as Flash Flood Alley.

She shivered. The 2015 Wimberley, Texas, flood had taken the lives of twelve people.

She rolled her eyes. The Texas Rose Ranch was nowhere near Wimberley.

Still the rain beat down and the river waters rose. Rosie knew that it wasn’t necessarily the rain right here that caused the rise in the river. It was the rain upstream barreling downriver that did the most damage. She sat in one of the wicker rockers and pulled her cell out of her bag. Just to be on the safe side, she’d text CanDee, Lucy, and Justus that she was at the Villa.

She unlocked her phone and typed in the text and hit send. The angry-red “not delivered” message appeared under the text. She looked in the upper-left-hand corner of the screen, and sure enough, “no service” glared back at her. The best thing about the Villa, apart from the fantastic view and plush interior, was that it came with high-speed internet. Unfortunately, the satellite internet and TV wasn’t scheduled to be installed until next week.

She slapped her phone down on the black antique wrought-iron table between the rocking chairs. There was no way around it, she was stuck out here until the water receded. On a long sigh, she pulled out her iPad and hit the Safari icon. Nothing happened. Duh, no internet.

Holy hell, she was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with work to do and absolutely no way to do it. She shucked off her soaked-through suit jacket and hung it on the back of her chair. Her white blouse now had see-through blotches, but it wasn’t like she could take that off and hang it up to dry. She slid off her shoes and leaned back in the rocking chair and checked her watch. She rocked back and forth several times and checked her watch again.

How was it that only sixteen seconds had passed?

What had people done before the internet?

This was like being stuck in the 1800s. All she needed was a hoopskirt and a mint julep to sip while she rocked on the front porch.

Her foot wiggled with the need to do something.

She checked her watch. Only four more seconds had ticked by.

If only she had her laptop. At least she could catch up on some paperwork. Wait, hold on. She had her phone and her iPad. She picked up her iPad and tried to pull up her to-do list. Dang it, she kept everything in the cloud.

She deserved an overly dramatic smack on the forehead.

This was her own personal hell.

Her mother had always said that idle hands do the devil’s work. If only. Her idle hands couldn’t do any work.

The wind kicked up and the rain came faster. She hugged herself, fighting off the chill. This morning it had been a humid eighty-five degrees. Now it felt like a cold front had knocked down those numbers by at least ten to fifteen degrees.

She was wet, stranded, and bored. It was going to be a long afternoon.