Heart & Hope (Rosewood Ranch #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

RUBY

T he guest list is far too small. Big corporate gatherings, especially openings, are the reason the saying the more the merrier was coined. I would bet my inheritance on it.

All twenty-eight million, at last count.

The consolation prize for emotionally unavailable parents, who provided a less than loving childhood for me and my two sisters. I shake my head, dislodging the thoughts that slip in whenever business overwhelms me.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Idle hands are the devil’s work, if you believe the sentiments my father instilled into us girls growing up. It was his excuse for never being around. Don’t understand how that explains his absence in other areas...

My cell vibrates, dancing across the glass desk. I ignore it for a moment, staring out into the now bright morning sunlit buildings of Lower Manhattan. The phone continues its solo dance.

Marina.

I tap the answer button and then put it on speaker. “Talk to me, Mari.”

“Your eight o’clock postponed until the end of the week, and I have an influx of replies for the gala from the food and beverage vendors. Do you want me to email them through?”

“Sure, I’ll check them out and send the short list for you to vet. Thanks.”

“What time did you get here, Rubes? Or did you sleep under your desk again?”

I chuckle, leaning back on my white leather business chair. It reclines as I sink into the soft as butter padding. Nobody is this put together from sleeping at work. My hair would never be this straight. And over my dead body are these designer clothes touching the filthy floor... It’s bad enough my favorite red Dolce hopefully, she has something more upmarket for me to sink my teeth into.”

“More upmarket than a Manhattan Christmas gala ball for the elite?”

“You know what I mean. I want to work on something huge. Like inter-corporation merger, and all the HR and PR events that go with that. That’s where the opportunity is.”

“And the fancy wine . . .” She chuckles.

“You know I do love my wine. Wish you could come over to my place tonight. Le Du’s is having a tasting night and then we could have gone out for tapas or whatever.”

“Montana might be a bit far for that. Sorry, babe.” She pauses. I guess, she’s checking her phone of the time. “But only five months ’til I can come back and hit that joint with you.”

“Don’t sound so excited you’ve left me, Adds.”

“It’s only a short stint, and you know I couldn’t stay there with everything that happened with Adam.”

“I know, but I miss you. Promise you will come home when you’re done. No running off into the sunset with some muscle-bound cowboy.”

“Ride off,” she says with a laugh.

“Huh?”

“I think they ride off into the sunset, Rubes.”

I scoff and close my eyes. Of course they do. My cell vibrates and emails flood in. Mari. “Hey, I have to get back to it. Please stay safe, Adds. And text me if you need me, promise.”

“Yes, Mom. Love you, Rubes.”

“Love you too, Addy.”

I tap the red circle as emotion clogs my throat and my office door swings open. Addy and I have always been close. People mistake us for sisters, our eyes both dark brown, similar complexion. Figures, since the only difference really is our hair. Hers is curly and brown, mine is wavy and natural blonde. A voice clears to my left. Olive stands, arms crossed, in my doorway as I swivel the chair to face her.

“Ruby, do you have a sec?”

“Ah, I thought I was coming to you, at eleven?”

“We can do this now.”

As if I didn’t have my day scheduled to the minute, but hey, it’s not like I’m the boss... yet. “Sure, Olive, take a seat.”

She waits by the door and when she doesn’t move, my gut sinks. I push out from my desk as she nods toward the door. Following her down the hall, we reach the elevator, and she punches the button for the ground level. When the door pings, we step inside and turn to face the sliding doors automatically. My heart pounds in my chest as the elevator drops. I don’t like things out of routine. And taking a walk with Olive, trying to make it casual, is making my nerves sing.

“Ruby, you know I love the work you do. Your events are top-tier. Always.”

Oh wow, here goes.

Here comes the but .

“But?” I ask, deciding to rip the Band-Aid off.

“Some of the clients have given us some feedback about your relations and the way you have been handling staff lately.”

“Efficiently?”

“Bluntly. And very inflexible.”

“Olive. You know how I operate. Events of that caliber aren’t accidents. And someone has to hold the ship together or it fucking sinks.”

She cringes, her fifty-something wrinkles pulling at her blue eyes as she sighs. “Ruby, you need to relax a little, or we are going to start losing the larger accounts to those hacks across town.”

She is referring to Premium Events. Original. Honestly, who chooses a company name so basic? Surprised they bring in any business at all.

“Fine, I’ll tone it down a little. Let a few things slip. And when complaints come pouring in, I’ll direct them straight to management.”

She tilts her head, muttering my name exasperatedly.

The elevator bings and the doors swing open.

“You can tone it down right now, Ruby. I understand you have standards and not everyone lives up to them. But this controlling side of you isn’t healthy. So...”

She steps out into the central garden that sits between our high-rise and the next.

“You can tone it down in Montana. I’m assigning you to an inn opening. It’s been taken over by new ownership. And the owners want a stellar event to bring in commercial backers and then a grand opening for the public to fill the books for the following six to twelve months.”

I know I’m staring now. And the elevator door slams into my side where I jerked to a halt at the word Montana. It hits my shoe. Fuck. I jump from the doorway and vent a string of curses as I bend down to brush the scuffed side of my heel. When the mark doesn’t budge, I suck in a breath.

Okay, stay calm.

Maybe Olive is right?

Fuck that elevator door right into hell.

“Ruby?”

“If you want me to resign, just say so, Olive.”

She rubs the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes briefly. “No, that’s not what I want. I want you to succeed; you are a diamond in the event space. But at this level, you will end up crushed under the pressure of everything. You need perspective, hon. I’m handing it to you in the form of a small-town country inn. It’s a challenge. Not a punishment. I want you to find something else you love, workaholism aside.”

I count each breath that comes in. Not in the habit of burning essential bridges, I nod before the fuck you that is sitting right there on my tongue flies out of my mouth.

Olive steps toward me in her gaudy, generic beige pumps that trim out her black pencil skirt and sheer pale pink top. “I will see you in three months. And the next time I look at this pretty face, it will be wrapped in that megawatt smile I know is in there somewhere.”

I try to find it. To prove to her that all this is a wild goose chase. A waste of my time, and her best planner to Hicksville.

But I can’t.

And it kills me to know she’s right.

I don’t remember the last time I smiled at work. Or on a weekday, actually.

Structure. Rigid, unbending structure has been hammered into me since I was a little girl. I wasn’t aware there was another way of working. If Olive thinks I can hunt it down in the mountainous west, who am I to argue? I mean, Adds will be there. How big is Montana, anyway?

“Fine, one stint in redneck world and one megawatt smile, and then I’m hightailing it back to the city,” I say to her.

She smiles at me as if there’s something she knows that I have to go figure out.

Fuck you, Olive.

I will find out what it is.

Montana, here I come.

At my desk, I take a moment to wonder at the glittering city outside before plucking my phone. I tap out a text to Adds before letting my phone fall onto the glass.

Guess who’s coming to Hicksville, babes. Ugh. See you soon.

The rental Mercedes rolls into the driveway of the Heritage Inn in the heart of Great Falls, Montana. And I jerk, snapping a foot onto the break when I remember I’m driving, not a passenger. It is not what I expected.

At all.

The impressive building is elegant and upper class. I slide the car into park and kill the engine, pushing open the door. Stilettos clicking on the stone-paved driveway, I head into the reception area.

I gasp, taking in the grand entrance. It’s all rustic yet gorgeous, oversized brass chandeliers and shining marble floor. Again, I was not expecting this. In the middle of some redneck town. But here we are.

When I reach the back of the enormous room and step up to the long, polished wood counter, I meet a bright-eyed young girl, maybe five years younger than me. I’m sure she couldn’t be any older than twenty-two. Brunette curls frame her face, her dark eyes studying my clothes. She reminds me of Addy a little.

“Checking in, ma’am?”

Ugh. I’m not that old. “Yes, and it’s Miss Robbins.”

She scans the computer screen with a half-baked smile.

Too harsh?

“I only have a reservation for a Mrs. Robbins, and it says here you’re our new events manager?” Her eyes light up. Guess she likes a good party. A door to the side pushes open, and an older lady wearing some god-awful vest over her crisp white blouse steps up beside the young attendant.

“Ah, I am she, but?—”

“Mrs. Robbins! So glad y’all arrived safe. I’m Mary-Sue, new co-owner.” She beams. “We have you in one of our best suites, and I can show you this wonderful old building. Oh, wait, what am I sayin’! You must be exhausted. I’ll let you settle in, and we will see y’all at breakfast. Bill—my husband—and I have you slotted to meet about the gala first up tomorrow.”

I stare at her. Neurons are firing in my brain right now, I’m sure. They’re just not connecting in any meaningful way. Mrs. Robbins? Opening? The place appears up and running to me. “I?—”

“Is Mr. Robbins with you? A super successful gal like yourself; I bet he follows you around all over the countryside. It’s no bother if he arrives later, we have an after-hours attendant and a twenty-four-hour call button right out front. Miley, show Mrs. Robbins to her suite, I’ll get her checked in. No need for charges, your boss phoned ahead.”

“Oh, wonderful, thanks.”

Miley is by my side a second later, scanning the foyer for the bags that she must have assumed I would haul in myself.

“They’re in the trunk of the rental outside,” I offer.

“Sure. I’ll meet you at the elevator, Mrs. Robbins.”

Before I can get a word out to correct their mistake, the young girl is out the front door and popping the trunk. Deciding to let it go, I wander to the elevator foyer with a smile and a wave to Mary-Sue.

Grunts come from behind me as I tap out a message to Adds. I turn back to see Miley dragging my bags behind her. All four of them. I drop my phone into my tote and relieve her of two of them. Louis Vuitton should not be dragged. Ever.

“Wow, y’all’s luggage is?—”

“Expensive, please be careful.”

“I was goin’ to say heavy.” Miley’s gaze swings to the elevator as it bings.

I step inside and turn back, settling the two bags on either side of me. The young woman’s focus is fixed on the floor.

“Your boss is lovely,” I say, trying to crack the frozen tundra between us after my lack of tact with the bag.

“She’s the best,” she says, a little too deadpan, the smile on her face forced. “Her and Bill, they’re kind of traditional.”

“Oh, in what way?”

“The traditional way? I don’t know. It’s a good thing your husband is coming soon. Bill ain’t real big on unmarried women traipsing across the country. Even less fussed on us having a career, so to speak.”

I press my lips into a thin line, my now dropped brows a good half an inch closer to my nose. “It’s 2024.”

“Yeah, they know. But reckon some things are best left to the old ways. And women working inside the home is one of them.”

“But you work here, and Mary-Sue?”

“Yeah, that’s just until I’m married, I guess.”

My face twists.

“What about Mary-Sue?”

“Well, Bill is here and he’s my uncle’s cousin, so . . .”

“You can’t be serious. Just how far back in time have I traveled in four days?”

She chuckles, running a hand over the now fingerprint-spotted brass of my luggage. “I mean, I’m all for it, you know. Going off to college and seein’ the world. Maybe one day.”

“Uh-huh” is all I can say.

Good Lord, what the hell is this place?

And how on earth am I going to convince Mary-Sue I have a husband when he doesn’t exist? Surely, Olive can sort this out?

The elevator pings, doors sliding open.

Top level.

Miley shows me to my suite. With the swish of a card, the door clicks, and she pushes it open. The inside is huge, almost bigger than my apartment. The marble floor, the same as in the foyer, shines; the linens give off a crispness that floods the room. And at the far end are two wide double doors with a sprawling balcony. It’s brilliant.

And if I can make it through this job without being burned at the stake for my sordid unwed existence, maybe I can relax.

A little?

My phone vibrates in my tote.

“I’ll show myself out,” Miley says, lingering in the doorway.

I smile and wave her off as I answer.

“Olive! We have a problem.”