Trusting Her Heart
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Tara Randel
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Chapter One
“MY DEAR, IF I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to elude my grandson.”
Serena Stanhope was most definitely trying to stay off Logan Masterson’s radar. So far so good, even though his grandmother came up with every reason under the sun to make Serena’s hiding impossible.
“He only gets to town once in a while. I was really hoping you two could get to know each other.”
In the two years she’d lived in Golden, Georgia, Serena had learned that Mrs. Masterson was a notorious matchmaker. It was well-known she was bound and determined to see her two grandsons stand at the altar. Problem was, neither was engaged, dating or playing the field. Serena was afraid the woman had ulterior motives by showing up here today, but couldn’t deny she enjoyed Mrs. Masterson’s company.
“I’ve been really busy.” Serena’s excuse danced off the tip of her tongue as she tidied a stack of sales slips and placed them in a plastic bin beside the register. “The summer flew by, and with all the new art projects I’ve started, I simply keep missing him.”
Mrs. Masterson, petite, with an expertly coiffed head of white hair and dressed in a pastel blue suit, turned to view Serena’s store, Blue Ridge Cottage. “I will admit, your newest creations are lovely. But so is having a life, and you, my dear, do not have one.”
If this comment had come from anyone else, Serena might have been offended. Even if it might be a teensy bit true. But this was Gayle Ann Masterson, matriarch of the venerable Masterson family, who were very important in Golden.
All the more reason to steer clear of them.
Serena walked from behind the counter, her flat sandals clapping against the tile floor. She’d dressed in a blue-and-white-patterned dress today—her store colors—and hoped it emphasized her point. “My life is the store.”
Mrs. Masterson huffed, then checked her watch.
Personal conversation averted, Serena thought. “Is there anything I can help you with today, Mrs. Masterson?”
“I told you, ‘Mrs. M.’ will do. And can’t I drop in to visit one of my favorite tenants?”
Business was slow today, and her assistant didn’t come in until later this afternoon, so Serena was happy for the company. “Certainly, you can. I thought maybe you were shopping for something specific.”
“You know I adore your store.”
Serena grinned as she gazed at her colorful merchandise. “So do I.”
Blue Ridge Cottage was Serena’s dream come true. Her refuge, as well as the business in which she poured all her creative energy. She tucked a strand of long hair behind her ear, then picked up a box of stationery, running her finger over the clear top, still amazed that she’d been fortunate enough to meet and surpass her goal.
One entire wall of the store featured original hand-drawn greeting cards and postcards. She came up with every design herself, inspired mostly by the beautiful north Georgia mountains. Nature had always appealed to her as a subject and thankfully she’d found a way to capitalize on a theme she loved.
Tables were scattered around the showroom floor and offered original stationery, fancy pens, bookmarks and a host of other related paper supplies. Some days she had to pinch herself at the reality of all this being hers. She’d scrimped, saved and worked hard to land here. There was no going back.
She crossed the room to a rustic hutch, bought at a garage sale and repurposed, the shelves now containing colorful boxes of stationery. Serena picked up a box tied with a jaunty sage-colored ribbon and inhaled the scent of crisp paper. “What do you think of this new print?”
Mrs. M. took it, tilted her head. “Let me guess. The view from Bailey’s Point?”
“Yes. I hiked up there and took tons of pictures. Came up not only with the writing paper, but a series of greeting cards. So worth the trip.”
During college, Serena’s roommate, Carrie, had dragged her to the mountains for a minivacation. Serena had been instantly enchanted. The small towns, untouched woods and waterfalls, winding roads and brick houses among tall trees, made easy subjects for her artwork. She could spend hours in one place, perched on a rock or at the edge of a scenic mountain overlook, sketching the local sights her customers had come to expect from her. Golden had captured her fancy immediately, enough that when the time came, she’d made the decision to settle here and open her first store.
The quaint downtown, with six blocks of multicolored buildings that housed all kinds of tourist shops, restaurants and small businesses, had beckoned her as she drove down Main Street. Once she roamed the sidewalks, she fell in love with the homey touches, from the cast-iron lampposts supporting hanging planters overflowing with flowers, to the inviting aromas from the local coffee shop and bakery. She was hooked. Right then and there she’d decided to make Golden her home.
“Are you sure?” her BFF, Carrie, had asked. “You’ve always talked about settling in a big city.”
Breathing in the fresh mountain air laced with pine and wildflowers, being serenaded by cheery chirping birds, she couldn’t have been any more sure. While Carrie, who’d created the website for Serena’s business, had declined her invitation to move with her, Serena counted her blessings every time she unlocked the doors to her very own store and viewed the town she called home from the wide window.
Mrs. M. replaced the box, drawing Serena from thoughts of her good fortune. “Hmm. Explains why Logan keeps missing you.”
Yes, fortunately it did. She had no intention of being matched with anyone. “I have to keep my designs fresh and new.”
Her landlady did not look convinced.
Serena bit back a chuckle. She really admired the older woman. Sweet, with a backbone of steel, she had given Serena her first real chance in a brick-and-mortar retail store. Located in the middle of a block on Main Street, it was a prime location in this up-and-coming vacation town. The business that had started online had grown into the building where she was standing today and was everything she’d ever hoped for.
No way would she let anyone take this away from her.
“I still love your original work,” Mrs. M. said. “Your aunt Mary was a wonderful influence.”
Aunt Mary. Right. The legend behind the business. Silently cringing, Serena went about straightening merchandise.
“It’s a shame she passed. I would have loved to meet her.”
“She would have loved you, too,” Serena said over her shoulder as she replaced the box.
“I don’t like the idea of you all alone.”
“We’ve had this conversation many times,” Serena said, her movements brisk as she fussed around the shop. “I’m very happy the way I am.”
Mrs. M. arched an eyebrow. “Single?”
Serena suppressed a grin, then said, “There are many single women who live rich and productive lives.”
“You don’t even have a pet.”
“Maybe someday.”
She’d always wanted a cat, but she and her dad had jumped from town to town growing up. There was no way they could look after an animal, or at times, afford one. Her upbringing had been unconventional at best, but she’d loved her father and went along with his schemes.
“Since you’re here, I have something I’d like to run by you,” Serena said, pressing a hand to her stomach. She hadn’t planned on broaching the subject today, but since Mrs. M. had stopped by, there was no time like the present.
Interest gleamed in Mrs. Masterson’s blue eyes. “Anything.”
“You remember how I told you I started my business right out of college.”
“Something about a business model in a financial class?”
Serena smiled at the memory. “Correct. We had to conceive and build a business—on paper, that is—and since I loved to doodle, I came up with greeting cards. After creating the business plan, figuring out how to launch the idea and acquiring funding, I was hooked.”
“Didn’t you work for a greeting-card company right out of school?”
“For two years, to get experience, but I was actively drawing, building up inventory. Once I had enough product, I launched my website.”
Shaking her head, Mrs. Masterson frowned. “I don’t understand doing business over the computer.” She held up a hand to stop Serena from explaining the advantages. “I’ve heard it all, mostly from you, my dear. But I’ve also been in business a long time, and let me say, there is nothing like face-to-face transactions.”
Said the outgoing extrovert who dealt in local real estate.
“That’s the main reason I opened the store, once my online presence grew,” Serena continued. “But at least I had an established product and a bottom line, which made the timing perfect to branch out.” Breathing in the soothing scent of lavender—she’d hung dried sprigs of her favorite flower around the shop—she got back on track. “Having said all that, I’d like to expand. I was wondering if you might be interested in investing in my company, BRC, Co.”
“An investment opportunity? Hmm.” The older woman tapped her chin with a finger. Her shrewd eyes narrowed.
Trying not to let her nerves get the better of her, Serena wandered to the counter. The business wasn’t in dire straits yet, but paying back personal debts had kept her from reinvesting in the store like she’d hoped. Just to look at the store, Mrs. Masterson might wonder why she needed an influx of cash, and she’d be right. The debt was private, coming from her own savings dipping lower and lower every month.
“Why now?” Mrs. Masterson finally asked.
“To be honest, I didn’t project my costs accurately enough for the Summer Gold Celebration. We had more foot traffic in town this summer than the prior year. My printing invoices have risen, and I’d like to offer more classes, which means ordering more supplies.” Serena paused, licked her dry lips. “I have a copy of the proposal in my office if you’re interested.”
“So you’re looking for more than our current landlord-slash-tenant dealings?”
“Yes. If you feel comfortable investing,” Serena said quickly. Asking for money was tricky, no matter how much practice a person had. “If not, I’m happy with our current arrangement.”
When Serena had arrived in town, she’d known at first glance that she wanted her store located in the whitewashed two-story building. After contacting the rental agency and learning the amount of the monthly rent, she thought it might be too much for her budget. Until she found out the rent included both the shop downstairs and a roomy apartment upstairs. It was tight, but she had enough capital to get started. That was two years ago. Her reputation was growing, as evidenced by steadily rising online sales. But her heart was here in the store, talking to customers and encouraging people to recapture the lost art of writing letters and cards, of all kinds, and all the things that went with that personalized effort.
She’d immediately painted the front door to the shop a bright sapphire blue. She placed an antique table she’d found at a thrift store right in front of the large store window, arranging the best of her inventory in an appealing display to catch the eye of shoppers passing by. Blue Ridge Cottage, stenciled in bold white letters, took center place on the main window along with an Open/Closed flip sign in the corner. The hours were posted on the door. Her assistant had come up with a sandwich board to put on the sidewalk directly in front of the store to advertise specials of the week and class schedules featuring painting and calligraphy, to name a few.
Along with her rent, Serena also received weekly visits from Mrs. M. She liked to think that beyond the professional aspect, she and Mrs. Masterson were friends of sorts. Perhaps the widow’s visits were more about getting out of the house and being with people than about business. Either way, Serena enjoyed their chats.
“As you know, I never make a decision on the spot.”
Serena did know that. The Mastersons owned a huge bulk of real estate in Golden, corporately and privately. Mrs. Masterson had her own business dealings as well as property she leased. Serena had heard her call her monthly income “mad money.”
“Why don’t you give me your proposal. I’ll look it over and run it by my financial adviser if I’m interested.”
“That would be great. I’ll be right back.” Excitement rushing through her, Serena quickly went to the small work space she called an office to collect the proposal. She’d spent nearly a month going over projections, assembling all the information an investor required—profit-and-loss statements, balance sheets, projections—and placed them all together in a professional presentation. When she returned, Mrs. Masterson had moved to the window. She checked her watch again, the third time since she’d come into the store, Serena noted.
“Here you go,” Serena said. “If you need to get to an appointment, we can sit and talk another time.”
Mrs. M. waved her off. “No hurry.”
“Are you sure? You’ve been looking at the time ever since you came in.”
“Oh, that? It’s nothing.”
Mrs. Masterson didn’t do anything without a reason. By her cagey expression, Serena suspected she was up to something matchmaking related.
After slipping the folder into her large handbag, Mrs. Masterson crossed her arms. “I’m afraid I will need to get moving along fairly soon. My son scheduled a meeting at our office.”
“Like I said, I’ll be happy with whatever decision you come up with.” Securing the money would be the best scenario, but Serena knew better than to pressure potential investors.
The store phone rang. “Excuse me.” She hurried to the counter, reaching over to pick up the handset. “Blue Ridge Cottage.”
For the next ten minutes, Serena took a special order for a baby announcement, also part of her business model. She’d become the local go-to for unique wedding invitations, special birthday and anniversary party invitations, and baby announcements. When she hung up, she was surprised to see her visitor still in the store.
She asked Mrs. Masterson if she would like some coffee, when a wide smile curved the older woman’s lips and her eyes lit up.
Wondering what had brought her such pleasure, Serena joined her at the window and felt her own smile slip when Mrs. M.’s grandson Logan Masterson strode into view. He stopped to read the sandwich board situated on the sidewalk, giving Serena a moment to drink him in. Not that she needed to—she’d memorized his good looks the first, brief, time they met.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with a military bearing. His wavy dark brown hair caught the sunlight perfectly. Sunglasses were perched on an aristocratic nose. A five-o’clock shadow dusted his cheeks, even though it was just after noon. Dressed in a striped button-down shirt with the cuffs undone, indigo jeans and shiny boots, he glanced in the window and saw his grandmother, and a devastating smile brightened his handsome face.
Swallowing hard, Serena wanted to escape, really, she did, but her feet wouldn’t move—mutinous body parts. The door opened and the sound of a car horn and laughter floated in with him. He removed his sunglasses to reveal intense coffee-colored eyes. It was then, Serena decided, that she was a goner.
LOGAN MASTERSON WALKED over to his grandmother and placed a kiss on her soft cheek, then sized up the owner of Blue Ridge Cottage. The woman had been impossible to nail down. Every time he’d come to Golden, he’d tried to speak with her, but always ended up talking to her employee, who told him that her boss was conveniently out of town or on a business trip. It was almost like she knew he’d been hired to uncover her background. He’d worry about that fact if he wasn’t sure he was the best PI around.
“Grandmother, how are you this fine day?”
The woman he adored lightly tapped his shoulder. “Fine, if not worried about you.”
Yes, he’d been running late due to a problem he’d been dealing with at his Atlanta agency. There were a dozen investigations requiring his managerial skills, but he wouldn’t trade the satisfaction of owning his own business against a few time constraints.
After eight years in military intelligence, he’d opted out. An army buddy had opened a PI agency in Dallas, and offered him a good job. He’d worked there for a year and discovered that he genuinely liked helping people seek justice and uncover secrets. Maybe because of the truth that his own family had kept from him.
But eventually, he missed the foothills of the southern Appalachians and decided to head back to Atlanta. He had every intention of working for another agency, but his friend’s farewell advice came in the form of encouraging Logan to open his own office. He liked the idea of being the boss, so he returned to his home state, went about obtaining all the pertinent licensing and insurance, then started taking cases. Word spread, clients increased and, four years later, he employed half a dozen other investigators. Logan was thankful his employees were pretty self-sufficient, but every once in a while, though, he had to insert himself in a case. Today had been one of those instances.
“You always tell me to work hard instead of hardly working. I was following your advice.”
Grandmother rolled her eyes. “Don’t go throwing my words back at me. I know how you are.”
She really didn’t, thank goodness. But that was a concern for another day.
Shrugging his shoulders to relieve the tension after the ride in his SUV from the city to this mountain town, he glanced around the store, then met Miss Stanhope’s gaze.
“Well, I finally get to talk to the elusive store owner.”
Her shoulders tensed. “We’ve talked before.”
“For about two minutes. Not much time to get to know someone.”
“I have a business to look after,” she said, smoothing the skirt on her sleeveless dress. She moved her gaze from his, but not before he caught a glimpse of her unusual blueberry-colored eyes. He’d forgotten how startling they were, especially in contrast to her rosy complexion and midnight black hair. He wanted a chance to look at them again, because, yeah, she intrigued him.
The phone rang, breaking his moment of reflection. Tossing her long straight hair over one shoulder, Serena turned and made her way to the counter.
His grandmother elbowed him as he watched her go.
He yelped, “Hey, what was that for?”
“You’re messing up my plan,” she said in a loud whisper.
He knew what her sneaky plan entailed and didn’t want any part of it. He lowered his voice. “I told you, Grandmother, I can find a woman on my own.”
“You’re taking much too long. I want to see you happy before I die.”
Calling his grandmother dramatic was an understatement.
“Look, I’m in town for the meeting,” he said, leaving out the fact that he was doing a little reconnaissance work while he was at it. “Not to look for a wife.”
“Can’t you multitask?”
He coughed out a laugh.
Grandmother sighed. “Turns out I need your expertise while you’re here. Let’s go get coffee before the family meeting.”
At the mention of family, Logan’s stomach clenched. As much as he’d tried to untangle himself from the family business, his grandmother bound him up in emotional ties he couldn’t escape. That meant quarterly meetings. He’d much rather have major surgery than sit in his father’s boardroom.
Digging into the front pocket of his jeans, he extracted a few bills and handed them to his grandmother. “Why don’t you head over to Sit a Spell and order our drinks. I’ll be there in a few.”
Grandmother’s eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do?”
“Chat up your friend like you want me to.”
With a slight harrumph, his grandmother waved at Serena and left the store. He was now alone with the woman who had caused more useless legwork to and around his hometown than he cared to admit. Putting on his PI game face, he strolled up to the register as she hung up the phone.
“Aren’t you leaving with your grandmother?” Serena asked.
“I will, but first I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Grandmother playing matchmaker.”
Serena’s gaze flickered away for a flash and returned.
“Is that why you disappear every time I arrive in town?”
“I don’t...” She tried to mask the annoyance on her face, but failed. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. “Your grandmother’s actions aside, I have had legitimate reasons for being away, not that it’s any of your concern.”
“Fair enough. Matchmaking or not, I care about my grandmother, and she thinks highly of you. I wouldn’t want to see her disappointed, say, if her good opinion were to change.”
Her eyes grew wide, the unusual color more pronounced. “For heaven’s sake, why would I disappoint her? She’s been more than wonderful to me. And a friend.”
He shrugged to give off an air of nonchalance.
She looked at him accusingly. “Do you grill all her tenants?”
“I’m a bit overprotective that way.”
“Well, you have no reason to think I’d do anything to hurt her. Or go along with her tactics.”
“Good.” He sent her the reassuring smile he’d patented to ease subjects into believing they had nothing to worry about. “Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Serena rubbed her right wrist. “Anything else?”
“No.” He turned, stopped and caught her gaze again. “I like your store, by the way.”
Confusion swept over her features. “Thanks?”
Chuckling, he strode outside. He’d learned a long time ago the best way to pick up information was to keep your subject off guard. Serena wouldn’t know what to make of him now and that would work to his advantage.
Crossing the street, he met his grandmother, already seated at an outdoor table at the busy coffee shop. A warm rich scent wafted from the store, making Logan’s stomach grumble. He’d missed lunch in his haste to get here and now realized how hungry he was. Holding up one finger at his grandmother, he ducked into Frieda’s Bakery to buy pastry. Not even close to the healthy food he normally consumed, but Frieda made an apple fritter he couldn’t resist. Stepping back out to the sidewalk, he unwrapped a treat and took a bite of sweet apple chunks rolled into tasty dough and offered the other one to his grandmother.
Mouth full, he met his grandmother’s stony glare.
“You didn’t do the ‘I worry about my grandmother and I have my eyes on you’ routine, did you?”
Logan swallowed, took a seat and stretched out his legs. “When have I ever made my intentions known to your tenants?” Reaching out, he took the drink his grandmother had ordered and leaned back in the chair.
“Young man, I needed your help years ago. I can handle myself fine now.”
“I don’t doubt it for a minute.” He took a sip—Delroy and Myrna Hopkins still had the best coffee he’d tasted anywhere—and lifted one shoulder. “I enjoy making people squirm.”
“You don’t trust anyone, do you, Logan?”
“Only you.” He straightened, set down the fritter on a napkin and leaned across the table to cover her soft, wrinkled hand with his. “No one will ever take advantage of you again.”
Grandmother patted his hand in return. “I thank you for your grizzly-bear efforts, but I must ask you to stop scaring my tenants.”
Blowing out a put-upon sigh, he picked up the fritter. “When did you lose your sense of fun?” he asked, then finished off the doughnut only to start the second one.
“Since you began this mission to protect me.” She withdrew her hand. “Besides, I like Serena. She’s all alone and I feel rather motherly toward her.”
Another reason she was pushing this match. She had a big heart. As much as he would have liked to tell her he wasn’t interested in romance, he couldn’t reveal the truth to his grandmother. His good friend Deke Matthews had called in a favor and Logan meant to do well by his buddy. Yes, Serena had been hard to catch up with over the summer, but she was telling the truth—she had been working on designs for her greeting-card business. He hadn’t been able to find out much else about her, and for a guy who sniffed out lies for a living, she was turning into a major project.
“Tell me what you wanted to discuss,” he said, changing the subject.
“It happens to be about Serena.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Grandmother pulled a folder from her purse. “She’s offered me a business proposal. I haven’t had time to read it yet, but since you do all the background checks on tenants and businesspeople I work with, I thought you should look into this.”
Huh. What were the odds his grandmother would give him an avenue to investigate this woman? And why did his Spidey-sense go haywire at the request? Because two different people have asked you to check up on the same woman. Circumstances like this didn’t happen easily, or often, so he decided to look at this newest development as a gift. One thing he’d learned in PI work, and life in general, was that people lied. And some lies were more devastating than others.
He understood Deke’s concern. His friend was trying to find information about a man his widowed mother was dating. Since Logan was superprotective of his grandmother, he got why Deke and his brothers were concerned. The man in question seemed too good to be true, with reason. One of Deke’s brothers had discovered this man had lied about his employment and their mother refused to listen to the warnings.
Even though Deke’s mother and the subject lived in Florida, they’d found a link, phone calls between the man and Serena’s store number. That was when Logan had been called in. So far he hadn’t uncovered much. Serena’s personal history was spotty—there was a huge gap between her childhood and when she started her business. Any PI worth his salt knew that was a major red flag.
And now Serena wanted to do a business deal with his grandmother? Heck, no. Not until he learned more about who she was, what she was up to and if there were legal reasons why he couldn’t find a complete history on her.
“So will you look into this for me?” his grandmother asked.
“Like I always do. Please tell me you haven’t told Serena what I do for a living.”
Ever since his grandmother had been scammed by some former tenants who’d skipped out on paying a few years ago, he’d been keeping an eagle eye on her. She’d suffered a health scare at the time—the doctors thought she had cancer. Thankfully it turned out to be a minor problem that was cured, but she’d been weak and off her game.
Afterward, she and Logan had come up with a deal. Grandmother would give him the name of anyone interested in renting from her or working with her and he would do a full background check, besides checking out references, to make sure they were on the up-and-up. It had turned out well for both of them. She hadn’t been duped again.
“I imagine keeping her in the dark about our conversation will make it easier to do your job. And no, I haven’t said a word, so she won’t find out from me. I wanted you to win her over on your own merit, not from my glowing recommendation.
“I know you have your reasons why your life in Atlanta is private from your life here, even though I would love to brag on you. I really wish you’d open up more, but that’s your choice, so mum’s the word.
“But, Logan, go easy with respect to Serena. She’s a lovely, smart young lady and you could do worse than find a woman like her.”
The jury was still out on that call.
“I have to ask, are you working this hard to get Reid married off?” Logan’s brother had been trying to avoid their grandmother’s machinations as strenuously as he had. The difference was, Reid lived in Golden, in close proximity to their grandmother’s interference, while Logan thankfully lived an hour south.
His grandmother shook her head. “I haven’t found the right woman for your brother.” She pointed at Logan. “But don’t you worry—there’s a woman out there for him, and one for you.”
“And on that note,” Logan said, rising and scooping up the now empty cups to throw in the trash, “I say we get to that meeting. Father hates it when we’re late.”
“Yet you’re tardy at least ten to fifteen minutes every time.”
Logan offered a forced smile. “What can I say? I love to create tension.”
Grandmother sighed as she collected the folder to return to her purse. “Well, you’re very good at it.”
“Hey, we all have our thing.”
Once she rose, he hooked her hand through his arm and escorted her the three blocks to the family office. They walked slowly. It was a muggy afternoon, the last dog days of summer. September was half-over and he couldn’t wait for the temperatures to drop and the leaves to change color. Autumn had always been his favorite season growing up, until...
As they arrived at the two-story office building, his grandmother squeezed his arm. “I’d tell you to behave, but I know you won’t listen.”
Grinding his back molars, he remained quiet. These meetings were important to both his brother and grandmother, and that was the only reason he still attended. He really didn’t care what his father thought about him. Nothing would make him respect the old man again, so he didn’t even try. But he did love the woman who connected him to his family and would do anything for her, including sit in the same room as his father.
It all boiled down to family love and honor, he supposed. He’d never be the Masterson team player his father wanted him to be, but he was honest enough with himself to know that was okay. He didn’t want any ties to the empire. Nor would he ever be a carbon copy of his father. The older man’s lies had dictated that Logan would be his own man.
So for now, he’d go along with everyone, but then ferret out Serena Stanhope’s secret.
As the office’s glass door closed behind him, he focused his gaze back down Main Street. The owner of Blue Ridge Cottage was hiding something, and it was going to be his great pleasure to expose the truth.
