Chapter 12

12

R eagan eased her car into a parking spot halfway between the hardware store and Java Junction. As she got out, she thought that she would need to purchase her own vehicle now that she was going to live in Texas. Renting was expensive. Not that she couldn’t afford it, but she’d rather buy or lease something to her own taste instead of the rental she’d taken when she landed in Austin. She would need to think about when she could return the car to Austin and find something permanent and jotted a note on her phone’s to-do list as she approached the hardware store.

Ivy had told her there was a set of stairs in back, and she went to the side of the building to take them, knocking on the door.

It opened, and Ivy gave her a warm embrace, as if she were family. It still surprised Reagan how friendly people were in Lost Creek and that she already had a growing group of friends after being here such a short while.

“Come in,” Ivy said. “I’m so glad you could stop by this morning.”

Entering the studio, she caught the faint scent of paint and turpentine in the air. Reagan gazed about the room, seeing a few finished canvasses resting on easels and was immediately drawn to one, in particular.

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, moving toward it. “This is stunning, Ivy.”

Her friend joined her as they viewed the painting together and said, “This is Lost Creek Rock. It’s not as famous as Enchanted Rock, a well-known rock formation in the Hill Country, but I’ve been drawn to it time and again over the years. I’ve painted it from many different angles.”

“It’s incredible.”

Reagan began moving about the room, looking at the other completed works of art.

“You’ve really captured the essence of the Texas Hill Country,” she praised. “I always loved coming here when I was growing up. Not only to see Aunt Jean, but to experience the beauty and wonder of this area.”

“I feel privileged to have grown up here,” Ivy said. “Apparently, the land speaks to others, too. I recently had a showing of my art in New York, and I’m proud to say that every painting sold.”

“I can see why. You’re very talented, Ivy. Your paintings show great skill, but they also have heart. Have you ever thought about painting full-time?”

“That’s the plan,” Ivy revealed. “Dax and I have talked about it at length. I worked in an art gallery in Houston after I graduated from college and then came back to Lost Creek last year. My parents’ tasting room manager was retiring. Since I knew so much about wines, it made sense for me to step into that role. The hours the tasting room is open helped me work painting into my schedule again on a regular basis. I hadn’t had any time to paint during my Houston years. I’d forgotten how much it feeds my soul. With the baby coming, however, something has to give.”

“Who’ll take over the tasting room?”

“That hasn’t been decided yet, but I’m leaning toward Melanie. She’s one of two sisters who works at the tasting room. While both Melanie and Sarah are knowledgeable about wines and good with people, Melanie has a really good head for numbers. Whoever operates the tasting room has to always make certain enough of the different wines are stocked. I also oversee the gift shop, and that responsibility will be part of the manager’s job, as well. I’ve already talked to Mom and Dad about it, and they agree Melanie would be a great choice. I think I’ll approach her soon and make the offer.”

“What if she doesn’t take it?”

Ivy chuckled. “That’s the best reason I should talk to her sooner rather than later. If she doesn’t want the position, I’ll have to go to Plan B. I do want to pursue my art full-time, as well as motherhood.” She stroked her small bump. “And I want to leave the tasting room in capable hands.”

“You said you were going to start something new. Have you decided what you’ll paint next? “Reagan asked.

“Come sit and look at a few of the sketches I’ve been working on.”

They adjourned to a dilapidated couch which had seen better days, and Ivy picked up a sketchbook, turning the pages to show Reagan different drawings.

“Finley and I go out and meander around the area for inspiration. In fact, I have a few of her photographs I can show you.”

Ivy handed the sketchbook to Reagan and retrieved a folder.

Passing it to Reagan, she said, “Fin not only takes pictures of people, she also photographs the Texas countryside.”

Opening the folder, she looked at a series of a dozen photos. All were in black and white, showing the stark beauty and majesty of the Hill Country.

“I had no idea Finley was so talented.”

“I think Fin is only scratching the surface of her creativity,” Ivy shared. “She had a small exhibition of her landscape photography at our local library. In fact, that’s how Holden found her.”

Ivy explained how Holden had stepped into the public library when he first arrived in town and had been taken with the work of the photographer— and then the photographer herself.

“Speaking of Finley, we better head over to Java Junction,” Ivy reminded.

They walked the short distance to the coffeehouse, which was about half full at the moment.

As they joined the back of the line, Ivy said, “The old geezers hold court in the back there every morning. They gather for coffee and gossip. If you ever want to know what’s happening in Lost Creek, just ask them. They have their hand on the pulse of the community.”

They moved up in line, and Reagan saw a sign which said Goodies for purchase from The Bake House .

“These are from Emerson’s bakery?” she asked.

Ivy nodded. “When Dax first opened Java Junction, he was taken with how delicious the pastries and rolls were at The Bake House. He arranged with Ethel Frederick, the original owner, to provide Java Junction with an assortment of baked goods each morning. It’s convenient for people who come in for a cup of coffee and want to linger, like the soccer moms over there. Or even those who grab something on the go because they don’t have to stop at both places. The Bake House still makes money. Em continued the arrangement once she took over.”

“I already ate breakfast at Aunt Jean’s this morning, but everything on that tray looks too good to pass up.”

“I love everything on display, but I can never pass up a sausage kolache.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a spiced sausage link wrapped in a heavenly pillow of yeasty roll,” Ivy explained. “Let’s each get one.”

They reached the front of the line, where Dax and another barista worked.

Dax grinned at them. “I know my lovely wife wants a cup of herbal tea to drink. What can I get for you, Reagan?”

She glanced up at the menu and back to Dax. “I think I’ll go with a hazelnut latte. And a sausage kolache for both of us.”

“Go have a seat, ladies. I’ll bring your order to you shortly.”

They sat at a table near the window. Moments later, Finley joined them, giving each of them a hug.

“I’m so glad you had time to have coffee with us, Reagan,” Finley said.

Chuckling, she said, “This was the only thing on my calendar. Well, until Tucker asked me to go to tonight’s high school football game.”

The other two women exchanged a glance.

“I’m glad you’re joining in on community activities,” Finley said. “There’s nothing like going to a high school game. I try to hit up a few football, volleyball, basketball, and baseball games when I can. I have former students playing all those sports.”

“How long did you teach?” she asked.

“Both Em and I taught six years. We were at Lost Creek Elementary, so many of our former students are hitting middle and high school. It’s fun to be able to watch them play different sports and see how they’ve matured since grade school.”

“I’ve never attended a high school game before. I know zero about football. Tucker said he’d teach me all I need to know.”

“I’m glad you’ve hit it off so well with him,” Finley said. “Tucker seems like a great guy.”

“He came around summers to our house with Ry,” Ivy said. “Ry was our brother’s best friend. Harper and I have always looked upon Ry as another brother and Tucker as extended family. I really hope Tucker decides to stay in Lost Creek.” She looked hopefully at Reagan. “I hope you’ll be staying, too.”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” she shared. “I did quit my job in finance in New York, though. If I return to the business world in that capacity, I’ll need to relocate to a larger city, such as Dallas or Houston. If I find something else to do, though, I may very well stay in Lost Creek. Aunt Jean is the only family I have left, and I really love being near her.”

“I second career changes,” Finley said. “Though Em and I got our degrees in education and really enjoyed our time in the classroom, when new opportunities arose for each of us, we jumped on them. Em is flourishing as a baker.”

“I’ve seen some of her cake designs. She’s really creative,” Reagan said. “I also saw some of your black and white photographs of the Hill Country. They blew me away, Finley.”

“Thank you. I began taking senior portraits as a side endeavor. Education doesn’t pay its teachers enough, and photography proved to be lucrative. Plus, I enjoyed shooting subjects. I’m happy I’ve been able to move into doing it full time. I take all kinds of portraits. Photograph most of the Weddings with Hart clients, both their bridal portraits and the ceremonies and receptions. I’ve also done some work on a movie for Wolf and Ana Ramirez. They formed WEBA, their own production company, and shot Holden’s second book this summer, Hill Country Homicide .”

Finley brightened. “Wait a minute. I have something for you, Reagan.” She leaned down and unzipped her large tote, removing two hardback books.

Passing them to Reagan, she said, “Holden sent these along since you hadn’t read either of them.”

“That was so generous of him.” She opened the cover of one and saw it was autographed by the author. “I’ll thank him when I see him. I haven’t been able to read for pleasure in forever, and I’m looking forward to reading both and seeing the movie of Capitol Crimes .”

“Maybe you’d like to come to the world premiere of Hill Country Homicide ,” Finley said excitedly. “It’s in three weeks. It’ll open in Austin. Everyone but Harper and Braden are coming. She’ll be close to her due date and doesn’t want to ride in a car that long to Austin and back, much less be that far away from her OB. First babies don’t always come when they’re expected.”

Ivy laughed. “Unless they’re my sister’s baby, that is. You know how organized she is. Harper will probably instruct the baby down to the second regarding what time to come out.”

All three women laughed, and Finley said, “Seriously, Reagan. I hope you’ll come with us to Austin. Ry and Emerson will be there. It’s one of the rare weekends Ry doesn’t have to cater a Saturday night wedding. Dax and Ivy are also coming. We’d be happy for you and Tucker to come as our guests, as well.”

She felt a blush rising on her cheeks. “We’re not… a couple.”

Finley smiled. “Not yet. Or at least not that you’re willing to admit. Holden and I talked about it after dinner. It just seems the two of you belong together. I hope you’ll give Tucker a chance. Going to a football game sounds like a fun date. In the meantime, I’ll text you the info about the premiere.”

“I’ll tell you now that I’ll go,” Reagan said. “I think it would be exciting to attend a premiere. Besides, the only plans I have right now are to help out Harper once the baby comes.”

“You mean you’ll be working for Weddings with Hart?” Ivy asked excitedly.

“Yes. Harper and I talked for a long time yesterday. We really do have a lot in common. We’re both very organized, detail-oriented, disciplined individuals. While Paula is going to take charge of the operation, I said I’d be happy to pitch in and help wherever I might be needed. I’m supposed to go to the wedding being held Saturday night. I’ll be shadowing Harper and watching everything to give me a better idea of what goes on, including behind the scenes.”

“Harper will be so relieved to have you on board,” Finley said enthusiastically. “She has a tendency to micromanage. I worried about her taking time off when the baby comes.”

“Beau is her priority,” Ivy said firmly. “No matter how dedicated Harper is to her business, Beau and Braden will always come first.” Looking to Reagan, Ivy added, “I know she wants to take her maternity leave through the end of the year. At least you’ll be with us in Lost Creek for that long.”

“Hopefully by then, I’ll have figured out what I want to do,” she said. “In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy some downtime.” She held up the copy of Capitol Crimes . “This is the first thing I plan to do when I get back to Aunt Jean’s. Kick back with a cup of hot tea and begin Holden’s book.”

She looked at the book jacket’s picture of Holden.

Finley glanced down. “Isn’t he handsome? It still amazes me that he can come up with all this murder and mayhem since he’s such a regular guy.”

“I look forward to reading about murder and mayhem,” Reagan said, laughing. “I’m also eager to see the movie version of each book and compare them.”

“I’ve seen the new film twice,” Finley confided. “It’s terrific. You’ll be on the edge of your seat. Jack Calder is incredible in it.”

When she looked at Finley blankly, Finley noted, “You don’t know who Jack Calder is, do you? I guess you don’t hit the movies much.”

“That was the old Reagan,” she said, her voice brimming with confidence. “The new Reagan is going to read books. Go to movies. Take time and enjoy coffee with her friends.”

Holden suddenly appeared. He bent and kissed his wife’s cheek. “I see you got the book copies, Reagan.”

“Yes, thank you so much, Holden. That was really thoughtful of you.”

“If intrigue and murder aren’t up your alley, I’ll understand. Maybe you’ll like next year’s book and movie release better.”

His words piqued her curiosity. “What is it about?”

Holden pulled up a chair to join them. “It’s a personal book. About Mr. Hamilton, the school janitor who befriended me when I was a boy. I was a lonely kid, Reagan. My home life sucked. Alcoholic dad. Mom working so much she was never home. Mr. Hamilton took me under his wing and helped me become the man I am today. He taught me everything important about life which I needed to know. I’m forever in his debt.”

His words touched Reagan. “I came from a privileged background, but I was a lonely child, too. I never had friends growing up. Aunt Jean was the closest thing I had to a friend.”

Finley reached and took Reagan’s hand, squeezing it. “You have friends here in Lost Creek, Reagan,” she said fervently. “We’ll be here for you. Whenever you need us.”

Ivy took her other hand. “It seems already as if I’ve known you forever, Reagan. Harper, Finley, and I were drawn back to Lost Creek. Even though we grew up here, we were searching for something.”

Holden spoke up. “Then there are those of us who came to Lost Creek hoping to find ourselves and our purpose in life. If that’s the journey you’re on, Reagan, you’ve come to the right place. You’ll find all the support you need here in Lost Creek.”

Tears misted her eyes. “I’ve had a rough couple of years,” she admitted. “I walked away from an incredibly lucrative job because I wasn’t happy. I hope, like the rest of you, that I can find my purpose in life. And happiness.”