Hummingbird Lake Page 0,4
cook ’em.”
“That’s a deal.”
Back at the carriage house, with the aroma of fried trout drifting on the morning air, Colt looked through the kitchen window toward a mountainside gone gloriously gold with the color of aspens in autumn and smiled. The town’s newly adopted slogan couldn’t be more suitable: Eternity Springs—it’s a little piece of heaven in the Colorado Rockies.
“I love it here, Dad. I need to visit more often.”
“Then do it.”
“How? My job is in D.C.”
Ben Rafferty slapped him on the back. “You’ll find a way to get what you want, son. You always do.”
TWO
The marriage ceremony at St. Stephen’s couldn’t have been more lovely, Sage decided. Nic made a gorgeous bride, all ripe and plump and pregnant, and Gabe looked happy and relaxed and finally at peace. She mentioned as much to her friend, Sarah Reese, as they left the church and began the half-mile walk to the healing center on the opposite side of Angel Creek.
“Gabe is happy, he’s crazy in love,” Sarah said, her Liz Taylor–violet eyes gleaming with delight. Her short dark hair crowned an angular face and gave her a sassy look that matched her personality perfectly. Today she wore a yellow sundress and strappy heeled sandals, and she carried a bridesmaid’s bouquet of daisies. “Of course, Celeste would point out that it’s Eternity Springs doing its healing thing.”
Sage twirled her own daisy bouquet as she thought of the conversation with Celeste earlier that morning and nodded in agreement. “I think she has something there.”
Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s a little woo-woo for me. We’re not Shangri-La. There are plenty of miserable, unhappy people in Eternity Springs. I have two words for you: Marlene Lange.”
Fiftysomething and never married, Marlene made her living as a realtor, piano teacher, and choral director for the school. She rarely smiled, regularly offered her caustic opinions when they were neither needed or appreciated, and often took offense over ridiculous, imagined slights.
“Poor Marlene,” Sage said. “She had dreams of singing professionally. Did you know that? After her father had his stroke, she stayed here to help her mom care for him, and she ended up caring for her aging parents until she’d aged herself.”
“And grew bitter and unhappy and mean—thus making my point.”
Sage could have voiced the obvious—that Sarah was walking the same road and she should take care that Eternity didn’t gain a bitter baker along with its bitter realtor—but today wasn’t the day for that. She kept her mouth shut.
Sarah continued, “I think the healing center is a great idea, but if it’s successful it will be because Celeste threw enough money and manpower at it to make it work, not because of some happy-mist cloud that descends upon our valley.”
“You’re right.” Sage nodded, conceding the point. “Nevertheless, I have good feelings about the healing center’s success. I think people who visit will be glad they came, and they’ll spread the word. I believe Celeste’s Angel Plan will put Eternity Springs on the map.”
“We’re already on the map,” Sarah countered. “Only problem is, we’re a speck of dust. A pinpoint. But maybe now that we have an angel dancing on the head of our pin, we’re going to grow to be a real dot. If we become a dot, maybe I can make a living here working only one job instead of two.”
Sarah owned the Trading Post, Eternity’s only grocery store, opened and operated by Sarah’s family since 1894. A single mother of a high school senior and staring college tuition in the face, Sarah had begun baking desserts for the Bristlecone Café about five years ago to supplement her income.
Curious, Sage asked, “So if you had a choice, would you rather quit baking or stop selling groceries?”
“Groceries,” Sarah answered in a heartbeat. “If I won the lottery tomorrow, I’d hire a manager for the store, build a commercial kitchen, and bake to my little heart’s content.” Noting Sage’s smile, she asked, “Does that surprise you?”
“Not at all. You are as much an artist with shortening and flour as I am with paint.”
Sarah preened a little bit. “That’s a lovely thing to say. Thank you.”
Both women turned their heads when a red BMW convertible pulled up beside them and stopped. The driver was Sarah’s daughter, Lori. Ali Timberlake’s son, Chase, a student at the University of Colorado at Boulder, sat in the passenger seat. The two had begun dating over the past summer when Chase worked at the Double R Ranch outside of town.
“Well, now,” Sarah said,