The Sweetest Thing Read online

  “You don’t need to worry about either of us. If I can’t convince her to come to New York City, I’ll talk to the people who know her. There must be something that will make her more inclined to appear in front of the media.”

  Jack shook his head. “You’ve been living in big cities for too long. Sapphire Bay might be better for you than you think.”

  Noah doubted it. He had a job to do and nothing barring a category four hurricane would stop him.

  Cassie opened her laptop and found the project plan for the auction she was helping to organize.

  The Welcome Center was the only place in Sapphire Bay where people could go who were homeless or needed help. With winter fast approaching, the center was desperate for warm blankets and food.

  “Have we received any more donations?”

  Sam took a piece of paper from a folder. “Mabel and Allan from the general store are donating a barbecue. Here are the details and the manufacturer’s link.”

  “I spoke to Willow yesterday,” Brooke said. “She’s made two beautiful gift baskets full of homemade jams, pickles, and chutneys. She also wants to donate a photo of Flathead Lake, but it won’t be ready for another week.”

  Sam nibbled on one of the cookies Brooke had brought with her. “This is slightly off topic, but have you thought of asking Willow to sing at your wedding? I know she doesn’t like being in the spotlight, but her voice is incredible.”

  “I’ve already asked her. She thinks it will be okay, but she needs to make sure she’s available.”

  A few years ago, Willow had returned to Sapphire Bay after a hugely successful career as a country music singer. There was a lot of speculation about why she’d suddenly left Nashville, but Cassie was glad Willow had come home. They had a lot in common and had become good friends.

  “Did we add Megan’s cakes to the items to be auctioned?” Sam asked.

  Cassie checked the list. “They’re here. Including her cakes, we have forty-five items to auction. We should be able to raise a lot of money for the center.” She opened her email account. “I’ll send everyone the timetable of what’s happening on the night of the auction. Pastor John is happy to decorate the main meeting room at the church. All I have to do is give him the decorations and a list of where everything goes.”

  “What about ticket sales?” Brooke reached for a cookie. “Megan advertised the auction in Nora’s school newsletter. If that doesn’t fill the meeting room, we could start advertising on Facebook.”

  Clicking on another tab, Cassie opened the spreadsheet she used to keep track of door sales. “We only have twenty seats left. If ticket sales remain strong, we should have a sold-out audience.”

  That news made everyone smile.

  Cassie leaned forward, eager to tell her friends about the new project Pastor John had started. “What if we could do more than provide food and warm blankets for The Welcome Center?”

  Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Bozeman is creating a village of tiny houses for people who don’t have a home. There are shared laundry and cooking facilities, and larger recreational areas for everyone to enjoy. They’re even planning a shared community garden. We have the same problem as Bozeman—hardly any rental accommodation and a waiting list of people who desperately need somewhere to live.”

  “But this isn’t Bozeman,” Brooke said. “We don’t have the same number of homeless people or the same population.”

  “Everyone deserves a warm, safe place to live. Pastor John’s church looks after at least thirty people each night. Some of them have been living at The Welcome Center for more than a year. What if we could create a community housing project that gives people hope?”

  Just thinking about what they could achieve gave Cassie goosebumps. Pastor John had already talked to the County Planning Department in Polson. He’d completed a feasibility study with other community and social service groups. All he needed was a fundraising committee to begin the project.

  Cassie opened Bozeman’s Housing First website. “The concept plans are amazing. Pastor John has talked to the agencies involved in Bozeman’s tiny home village. The School of Architecture at Montana State University designed the homes and are willing to send some students to Sapphire Bay. They’ll help build the first home.”

  Sam looked at the website. “How much does each house cost?”

  “Ten thousand dollars. We wouldn’t be able to create an entire village right away, but we could keep fundraising until we had enough homes to make a difference.”

  Brooke sat back in her chair. “It would take an enormous amount of time. We’d need some land and a lot of money to start building the homes.”

  Cassie wasn’t ready to give up at the first hurdle. “Pastor John runs a construction apprenticeship program at the church. He said his students could build the houses as part of their training. We also have a lot of retired people living in Sapphire Bay. They might want to help.”

  Sam frowned. “You’re really excited about this idea, aren’t you?”

  “I want it to be more than an idea. We all have successful careers that we’ve grown from nothing. We have different strengths we can bring to this project. John can’t do this on his own but, if we work together, I know we could make it happen.”

  “Would Pastor John want us to help?” Brooke asked.

  “He would love our help. The Welcome Center still needs food and blankets for the winter, but this could be a long-term project. The community is always looking at ways to make people’s lives better. This would be an amazing opportunity for everyone.”

  Brooke sipped her coffee. “I’m in. People aren’t homeless by choice. If I can help someone else, I’ll do it.”

  Sam looked at her friends. “I’ll do whatever I can to help, too.”

  “That’s awesome. I knew you’d want to be involved.”

  “You’d better add Megan’s name to the committee,” Sam said. “She would disown us if we left her out.”

  Cassie’s cell phone beeped. She read the name of the person who’d sent the email and sighed.

  “Bad news?” Sam asked.

  “It’s Wilson Enterprises again.” She deleted the message. “Hopefully, they’ll give up and stop contacting me.”

  The heat of a blush hit Sam’s cheeks. “I’m sorry about entering you in the jewelry competition.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Cassie said quickly. “It would have been wonderful if I wanted the publicity.”

  “But you don’t. Is there anything I can do?”

  Cassie shook her head. “I tried blocking their emails, but they started using another address. I don’t understand why they keep contacting me. I’ve already sent them enough information for the article they want to write. Besides, in a few months, no one will remember who won the award.”

  At least, she hoped so.

  “Do they know the name you use as a jeweler is different from your legal name?” Brooke asked.

  “I don’t think so. The emails I’ve received are addressed to C.J. Davis and come through my website. As long as they don’t connect C.J. Davis with Cassie Harper, I’ll be okay.” She pulled her mind away from Wilson Enterprises and focused on Brooke’s problem. “Do you want to know about the wedding planning program, Brooke?”

  “Only if we’ve finished talking about everything else.”

  Cassie typed some notes into her laptop. “I’ll tell Pastor John we want to help with the tiny home project. But in the meantime, we’ll focus on the auction for The Welcome Center. I’ll send everyone a list of what we have to do in the next two weeks.”

  “And I’ll check your email settings before I go,” Sam said. “I can download a program that will block all emails from Wilson Enterprises, regardless of where the message comes from.” She pulled out her phone and opened the wedding planning app. “Which brings me nicely to this program. I couldn’t have designed it better myself.”

  As Sam showed Brooke how to use the app, Cassie’s mind d
rifted to the jewelry award. In five weeks, a ceremony would be held in New York City, showcasing the best of the best in jewelry design. Cassie’s necklace and earring set would be there, but she wouldn’t. And for now, as much as she wanted to be recognized by her peers, that’s the way it would have to stay.

  Chapter 2

  Three days after he’d decided to find C.J. Davis, Noah stepped out of his rented SUV and studied the stunning view of Flathead Lake. Sunlight glistened off the clear blue water. The mountains on the opposite side of the bay rose to a formidable height, disappearing under a blanket of cloud.

  Nestled against the shore of the lake was Sapphire Bay. The spire of a church marked one end of the small, Montana town. Other buildings lined the sides of what looked like the main road. If he was searching for somewhere he could get lost in, this wasn’t it.

  The drive from Polson Airport had been uneventful—if you discounted the moose grazing beside the road or the squirrels watching him from the grassy bank of the picnic area.

  He took a deep breath. After sitting in the plane for more than seven hours, the tension in his shoulders began to unravel.

  For most of his life, Noah had lived in New York City. He was used to skyscrapers, traffic jams, and constant noise. Apart from the silence surrounding him, the grandeur of the scenery was overwhelming. In some ways, it made him feel as though he’d locked himself inside a closet for the last four years.

  He pulled out his cell phone, took a photo, and emailed it to his brother. At least it proved he was here and hadn’t canceled his flight at the last minute. Because Jack, even with his unfailing loyalty, had been waiting for him to change his mind about coming here.

  That would never have happened. Noah needed to find C.J. Davis as much as he needed to breathe. Without her help, his options to rebrand his company were limited. And without repositioning him company’s online presence, his contract as chief executive might not be renewed. If he found himself out of a job, he might be moving to Sapphire Bay, too.

  Noah returned to his SUV with a heavy heart. Somewhere far below, in a small town called Sapphire Bay, was his last chance to prove he could lead Wilson Enterprises into the next decade. And, despite his best intentions, he still didn’t know if C.J. Davis would want to speak to him.

  On Monday afternoon, Cassie rushed into the guest cottage at the back of her property. Thankfully, she’d made the bed last night, added fresh towels to the small bathroom, and filled the refrigerator with milk, bread, and butter.

  She placed a gift-wrapped basket of local produce on the dining room table and opened the French doors leading onto the deck. A gentle breeze drifted into the cottage, adding the scent of pine and spruce to the calm interior.

  When she’d moved to Sapphire Bay, she’d looked for a property that could provide some sort of income. She had big dreams on a tight budget and, at one stage, doubted whether she could afford to live here. But after five weeks of pestering the local realtor, she’d finally found the perfect property.

  Honeysuckle Cottage was a cute, three-bedroom home on the outskirts of town. It had everything she wanted, including a second, smaller cottage sitting forlornly under an old oak tree.

  Both cottages had spectacular views of Flathead Lake and had the potential to become something special. It was the ‘potential’ that had turned away most people. But Cassie was used to hard work. After four weeks of remodeling, Honeysuckle Cottage looked incredible.

  Armed with even more determination to make the second cottage a unique vacation experience, she’d spent long days stripping drywall, plastering, painting, and replacing the kitchen. A month later, she was the proud owner of two pretty cottages overlooking one of Montana’s best-kept secrets.

  The house closest to the water had become Acorn Cottage and, to her surprise, she had bookings right through to Christmas. If it weren’t for a last-minute cancellation, her next guest wouldn’t have been able to stay.

  With one last look around the living room, she walked outside and ran a critical eye over the yard. By the end of next week, she’d need to mow the lawns and give the hedge between the two cottages a trim. Hopefully, she could tidy the yard when her guest was fishing or visiting the towns dotted around Flathead Lake. If he were more inclined to stay close to the cottage, she’d find a time that suited them both.

  The sound of a vehicle traveling over the gravel driveway made her frown. Mr. Devlin wasn’t supposed to arrive for another two hours.

  She looked at her baggy tracksuit pants, the T-shirt that had been a favorite for the last five years, and her paint-splattered sneakers. At this rate, her new guest would mistake her for the gardener.

  Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders. Regardless of what she was wearing, she was sure Mr. Devlin would be impressed with the cottage.

  Taking long, confident strides, she walked around the edge of her house. While Mr. Devlin parked his black SUV in the shade of the old oak tree, she silently rehearsed everything she needed to tell him.

  Usually, before her guests arrived, she asked them what activities they were interested in doing. That way, she could have some options ready for them to explore. But Mr. Devlin’s reservation had only been made three days ago. Her request for more information had gone unanswered. Because of the timing of his booking, she’d assumed it was because he was traveling to Montana and couldn’t reply.

  Cassie’s eyebrows rose when her guest stepped out of his vehicle. Of all the people she’d greeted, none of them had been wearing a white business shirt and dark trousers. That wasn’t to say he didn’t look good, because he did. But it was unusual. She half expected him to reach into the back seat and pull on a tie and jacket.

  Stepping forward, she held out her hand. “Welcome to Acorn Cottage, Mr. Devlin. I’m Cassie Harper.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Warm brown eyes settled on her face. “You can call me Noah. Do you own the cottage?”

  “I do. How was your flight from New York City?” Crossing her fingers, she hoped he’d left from there. All she knew about Noah was that he lived in Manhattan.

  “It was what I expected.” He turned and looked at the view of the lake. “You made a good decision when you purchased this property. You don’t see views like this from many homes.”

  Cassie followed his gaze. Flathead Lake looked like a polished jewel against the clear, blue sky. “I’m lucky I found it. I hope you enjoy the next two weeks.”

  “So do I,” Noah muttered.

  For someone who’d traveled more than two thousand miles to be here, he didn’t seem very excited. “If you’re interested in fishing or spending time on Flathead Lake, there are some excellent tours you can join. Or if you prefer to drive around the lake, I can give you suggestions of places you might like to visit.”

  “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I won’t be going far from Sapphire Bay.”

  Cassie wasn’t worried about what he wanted to do, as long as he enjoyed his vacation. “In that case, the folder of information on the coffee table will be helpful. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. I live in Honeysuckle Cottage, the house you drove past to get here.”

  She took a key out of her pocket and handed it to Noah. “This is for your front door. I don’t usually use the security alarm, but if you’d like to use it, I can give you the code.”

  Noah nodded. “I’d appreciate that. I plan on catching up on some work while I’m here. I don’t want to worry about someone taking my laptop.”

  Cassie froze. “Were you planning on using the Internet?”

  “It’s the only way I can look at my files.”

  Her heart sank. She couldn’t afford for him to leave. If the Internet was a big issue, she could end up with a two-week vacancy that would never get filled. “When you booked the cottage, I made it clear that it doesn’t have Internet access.”

  Noah’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

  Cassie had to come up with a solution before he j
umped into his SUV and drove into town. “I have satellite Internet at my house. We could organize something, so you have access to the connection all the time.”

  Noah pulled out his phone and checked the screen. “Don’t worry. At least there’s cell phone coverage. I can use my phone as a hot spot.”

  Cassie breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ve left a gift basket of locally grown produce on your dining room table and inside the refrigerator is milk and butter. If you need anything else, the general store is a good place to visit. I’ll take your suitcase inside.”

  Noah grabbed the handle. “It’s heavy. I’ll do it.”

  Cassie stepped away. A handsome, workaholic businessman whose life wasn’t complete without the Internet had just walked into her life. And, no doubt, he would leave just as quickly if his cell phone stopped working.

  “I’ll let you get settled. My cell phone number is in the information pack. If you need anything, just ask.” Cassie sent him what she hoped was a sincere smile before leaving Noah to unpack.

  At least for now, he was staying. And hopefully, if he enjoyed his visit, he would tell his friends about the pretty cottage beside Flathead Lake.

  As soon as Cassie left, Noah called his brother. Even though his secretary had made the booking, Jack would have had something to do with the lack of Internet access.

  His brother would have known it was unlikely Noah would spend each day on the lake fishing or hiking on the mountain trails. Noah’s laptop was an extension of his brain. It went everywhere he went and, like most things in his life, required little to no maintenance.

  “Hi, big brother. Does this mean you’ve arrived in Sapphire Bay?”

  Noah picked up his suitcase and carried it toward the front door. “It does. Did you know the cottage Charlotte booked has no Internet connection?”

  “You’re supposed to be on vacation, not working.”

  “The only reason I’m here is because of work. Have your contacts uncovered any new information about C.J. Davis?”