Page 110 of Heating Up (Nugget)
“Nice.” Gia smiled. Maddy really was a lovely lady. Under different circumstances, Gia would’ve been more engaging. She liked mixing with other businesswomen, especially ones who built thriving hotels in the middle of nowhere, because that’s what Gia wanted to do. Not a hotel per se, but she wanted to build something useful and beautiful.
“Well, I’ll let you get that breakfast,” Maddy said. “Remember, we have a wine and cheese service in the afternoon and breakfast from seven to ten.”
“Thanks. And I’m sure I’ll see you later.” She walked out into the hot sun and felt the heat of the pavement through her sandals. At least it wasn’t humid like New York.
She got to the fast-food window, put in an order, and only waited a short time before someone called her name. Instead of taking the food up to her room, she decided to eat at one of the shady picnic tables. The air smelled fresh and clean and the square had come alive with people. Evidently, it was farmers’ market day. Organizers set up tables, canopies, and colorful banners, and soon the green was transformed into a thriving bazaar. Not just food but furniture, wool, and even some crafts.
Gia ate her egg sandwich and hash browns, washed it down with a cup of coffee, and began to wander the aisles. Homemade goat cheese, fresh eggs, every kind of produce imaginable, even packaged beef. Everyone seemed to be friends. The vendors chatted with one another and the customers carted around their market baskets, going from stand to stand. Closer to the inn, someone sold the most gorgeous rocking chairs Gia had ever seen. They were made from pine logs and reminded her of something you would see on a Western porch, on the Rosser Ranch porch in particular. One of these days soon, when she had a place to put them, she planned to buy a few.
“How much are the chairs?” she asked, and when the man told her the price Gia had to keep from asking him to repeat himself. In New York City, custom craftsmanship like that would go for three times the amount he wanted. “Are you the artist?”
“I am.” The burly guy gave off the vibe that he was wholly content with life. “Here’s my card.”
She took it and stashed it in her purse, continuing to cruise the rows of purveyors. No one gave her a second look, though she stuck out like a sore thumb with the fashion glasses. Maybe she’d pop into the sporting goods store and buy some Ray-Bans or something else a little sportier.
But before she got the chance her phone rang. Her hands shook as she pulled her cell from her purse. These days she never knew who was calling. Most of the time, reporters trying to get her to commit to an interview, the FBI, or a death threat. She had no idea how her number had gotten out there. It was futile to change it; she’d tried. The number always went public.
She glanced at the display with trepidation and let out a sigh of relief. “Hi, Dana.”
Dana must’ve heard the noise in the background because she asked, “Where are you?”
“The farmers’ market in the square.”
“Oh . . . really? You think that’s a good idea?”
“No one has noticed me so far.” Maybe she was pushing her luck, but it felt wonderful to be normal again. “What’s the plan?”
“I have a couple of places to show you. If you don’t like any of them, I thought we could cast our net to other parts of the county.”
“Okay. Would you mind if we took another tour of the Rosser place? Maybe it’s not as great as I remember.” But they both knew it was. She just needed to see it again.
“Absolutely. You want to go right now?”
“Sure. I’ll just put on some jeans. Should we meet in front of the Lumber Baron?”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Gia quickly returned to her room, checked her email, and changed. In the mirror, she adjusted her hat and glasses. Boy, did she look ridiculous. As soon as she got back, she planned to get those new sunglasses. At least when they got a distance out of town she could lose the disguise and let her hair down.
Like clockwork, Dana pulled up as Gia came out the door. She hopped into the front seat and Dana whisked them away.
“You settled in?” she asked.
“Yep. The inn is so comfortable. I’d much rather be here than my oppressive penthouse.” She hadn’t always felt that way about the opulent apartment. When she’d first purchased the penthouse it had been a great source of pride—tangible proof that she’d made it, her own personal rags-to-riches story. But now the walls felt like they were closing in on her, just like everything else.
“Why don’t we go to Rosser Ranch first?” Dana said. “I’ll warn you, though, these other properties I’ll be showing you aren’t as refined. They’re more like blank canvases you can put your own stamp on. They’re also a lot less money.”
“Okay, fair enough.” Gia gazed out the window. The scenery, which changed on a dime from woods to pasture to high desert, would never grow old. It was like a beautiful interactive painting, she thought. “Tell me about these fires I’ve been reading about in theNugget Tribune.”
Dana recounted the arsons, starting with the sporting goods store and ending with her own office building.
“That’s crazy,” Gia said. “Do the police have any suspects?”
“I live with the lead investigator. I think he has someone in mind, but he’s kind of tight-lipped about the case.”
“Is he your boyfriend or is it a roommate situation?” Gia would’ve thought Dana was way too successful—and too mature—to have to share a place with someone.
She told Gia about her house burning down, how few rental properties there were in Nugget, that a big, brawny firefighter/arson investigator had agreed to share his house with her, and now she was dating him.
