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“Ryder has a good head on his shoulders. I like him.”
Christa stared at her father. This assessment of a stranger was the equivalent of the Pope’s blessing—at least in her house. Dad wasn’t one to throw around praise, and over the years Christa couldn’t remember him having much to say about any of the boys and men she’d dated. “How do you know Ryder?” she asked.
“Oh, we’ve talked a time or two.” He turned away. “Call me when supper’s ready.”
“How does Dad know Ryder Oakes?” Christa asked after her father had left the room. The casual acquaintance her mom had alluded to didn’t add up to the praise Dad had given the man.
Mom lifted the lid on the slow cooker and studied the roast. “I suppose they ran into each other in town. At Cattlemen’s Club meetings and things like that.” She reached for the salt shaker.
“But Ryder isn’t a rancher,” Christa said. “Why would he be at a Cattlemen’s Club meeting?”
Mom replaced the lid on the cooker. “I don’t know, dear. Why don’t you go freshen up? I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”
“I can help, Mom. Just tell me what to do.”
“That’s all right, dear. Go on.” She made shooing motions with her hand.
Christa started to argue, but decided to give in, for tonight, at least. She drifted into the living room, where Dad had assumed his usual place in his recliner, Jet in his lap.
“Kelly told me there’s a public meeting tonight about the new highway,” Christa said as she settled onto the sofa. “I’m thinking of going.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Maybe you and Mom would like to go with me.”
“I don’t think so, honey.” He stroked the dog, whose head was resting on her dad’s knee.
“Aren’t you curious to know what the state has to say? How they can justify destroying the town?”
“Cedar Grove was dying a slow death before the idea of this highway project ever came along,” Dad said. “The new highway could actually be a good thing.”
“I don’t see how.” Her father’s easy acceptance of such a big change bothered her. He’d lived in Cedar Grove all his life; was he really content to let the town just fade away?
“Maybe going to the meeting tonight will help you see things in a different light,” Dad said.
“Maybe.” Though she doubted it. Her father’s eyes were already closed. Was he really napping, or merely avoiding discussing this with her?
She stood. “I guess I’ll go freshen up before dinner.”
“Say hello to Ryder for me when you see him tonight.”
She froze halfway to the door. “I’m going to the meeting with Kelly, Dad. I won’t be seeing Ryder.” Did he think the meeting was some kind of excuse for a secret rendezvous with Ryder Oakes? She hadn’t done that kind of thing since she was in high school. Had her dad forgotten she was a grown woman—a woman who wasn’t interested in dating right now?
“Oh, I imagine you’ll run into him.”
She would never have used the word ‘smug’ to describe her father, but that’s exactly how he looked right now. As if he knew something she didn’t.
Then again, both her parents had been acting strange ever since she’d arrived home. She couldn’t help but feel they were hiding something from her, but what?
* * *
RYDER LOOKED OUT over the school auditorium which, as he’d expected, was filled with what must be ninety percent of the people who lived in or near Cedar Grove. From his position in the wings of the stage he could see men in checked shirts and cowboy hats standing along the back wall and children racing up and down the aisles.
A trio of women in summer dresses moved down the front row and he couldn’t keep back a smile as he recognized Christa Montgomery, in a sleeveless, flowered shift that showed off tanned arms. She was just as lovely as he remembered. Maybe after the meeting he’d find her and exchange a few words. He’d try to gauge her interest in a casual, dating relationship—no strings attached. Since she only planned to stay in town a little while, he didn’t have to worry she’d expect any long-term commitment from him. Spending more time with her would certainly make his own stay in Cedar Grove more pleasant.
“You ready to get this show on the road?” The high school principal, who was serving as the night’s master of ceremonies, asked.
Ryder nodded. “Let’s not keep people waiting.”
While the principal droned on about the need to listen quietly and then ask questions, Ryder studied Christa. She sat next to a younger woman who had curly hair. The curly-haired woman did all the talking, while Christa studied the large map showing the highway route that was projected onto a screen in front of the stage. She frowned at the map, looking more severe. Apparently, she wasn’t pleased.
He understood people’s objections, but he figured she’d feel differently once he’d made his case for the project.
“And now here’s Ryder Oakes. Mr. Oakes is the chief engineer overseeing this project. He’s going to say a few words and answer your questions.”
Ryder straightened his shoulders and strode onto the stage. He wore pressed khakis and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Nothing too fancy. He was a working man, just like most of these people. A man working to make their lives better, though not all of them saw this yet.
“The new highway, to be known as Spur Eighty-seven, is going to bring a lot of changes to life in Cedar Grove,” he began. “And change isn’t always easy. As humans, most of us are programmed to not like change. But sometimes change is good. When we switched from using horses to cars for transportation, most people didn’t like it at first. Yet how many of us would give up our cars now? We still have horses, but we use them for recreation, and to work in situations where cars don’t make sense.”
A few people nodded. Many of them still worked with horses every day.
“Some of you are worried that your town will die without the traffic a highway brings to it,” he continued. “More people will use the new road and forgo the back way that runs through your town. But I don’t think Cedar Grove will die. New people will come to live near the highway, and they will want to shop and use the services in town, as well as a place to take their kids on Saturday afternoons. You’ll have the opportunity to expand and add new businesses.
“You’ve probably had friends and family who have left town to live in the city, closer to jobs. The highway will make the commute to Dallas faster and easier, so some of those friends and family will move back home. Others won’t have to leave to find work. The state is also offering grants to rural transportation districts to establish bus service between rural areas and the city. That’s something that could make commuting even more affordable and easier.”
He set aside his sheaf of notes. “That’s all I have to say by way of introduction. Now I want to hear your comments and questions.”
Christa was one of the first people to raise her hand. He pointed to her. “Ms. Montgomery?”
She stood. “You paint a rosy picture of happy families and the town growing. But isn’t it just as likely—more likely, even—that those families will go to Dallas for recreation? They’ll shop in the big box stores in the city, where they can get cheaper prices. They won’t patronize a small town to which they feel no connection.”
“That might happen,” he conceded. “But while those families may not have the roots here that you and your family have, everyone craves connection. Towns like Cedar Grove hold a strong attraction for people who are looking to be a part of a community. If you reach out to those families and give them a reason to shop here—to be a part of your lives—I believe they will come.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but the older woman on the other side of the curly-haired woman rose to her feet. “It’s all well and good to talk about what a great community we are now,” she said. “That doesn’t make up for the state coming in with the route for the highway already laid out and not even consulting us. You bought the land for the route at bargain prices, cutting ranches in two, even forcing families to move out of their homes altogether.”
“Everyone who sold to the state did so voluntarily,” Ryder said. “At a time when the real estate market is severely depressed, we have offered the best price possible.”
Objections rose from several quarters of the room. The principal stepped forward. “Everybody settle down,” he said. “This is supposed to be a calm discussion.”
From there Ryder moved on to answering questions about the new shopping center and housing development. Could the town annex the land to add to their tax base? Would those families be in the Cedar Grove school district? “I’m not part of the local government or school district,” he said. “But I believe the answer to both those questions is yes.”
More murmurs rose as the possibility of more money in the town coffers and growth in local schools registered. “So when are you going to get started?” one man asked.
“We hope to break ground in a couple of weeks,” Ryder said. “Though it may take a bit longer to close the deals for the last of the right of way. But we want to get started as soon as possible, while the weather is on our side.”
Others asked questions about traffic, the effect on local wildlife, fencing along the highway, and even trash pickup. Ryder answered as best he could. Christa raised her hand again and he called on her. He liked that she was still engaged in the discussion. And he liked the way her expression became so passionate and intense as she confronted him. “Why was this route chosen for the highway?” she asked. “Why not something closer to town?”
“Good question,” he said. He picked up a pointer and carried it to the projected map. “It’s a matter of geography. There’s a formation here, alongside the town.” He pointed to an area that would bring the highway much nearer to Cedar Grove. “There’s a granite uplift sitting over an underwater reservoir—an aquifer. Building here would require blasting through the granite—an expensive process. The probability of opening fissures to the aquifer is strong. At a minimum, that would cause problems with flooding of the project, requiring expensive dams, pumps and greatly increasing both the timeline and the cost of the project. At worst, it could have disastrous consequences for the local water supply.”
Murmurs rose from the crowd. After three years of drought, water was more valuable than oil to these people. They wouldn’t want to risk losing a drop, much less a whole aquifer.
“What about on the other side of town?” Christa asked. “Couldn’t you have routed the highway there?”
“Taking the highway in that direction makes the route longer and adds to the expense,” he said. “Our goal was to shorten the distance to the city and to do so as economically as possible.”
“And we end up paying the cost.” But she sat down, still frowning. Ryder’s heart sank. So much for him winning her over.
The questions wound down. “I think that’s all we have time for,” the principal concluded.
“If you have any more questions, you can catch me around town,” Ryder said. “If I don’t know the answer, I’ll find someone who does.”
As people moved out of the auditorium, he left the stage and slipped past a pair of men who looked as if they wanted to waylay him. Christa stood with her back to him, talking with her curly-headed friend. “He doesn’t care about the people here,” she said. “It’s all cold logic to him. Just the facts, ma’am.”
The words stung. He could have argued that basing decisions on facts and logic was more sensible than following blind emotion, but she wouldn’t have listened. He needed more time to win her over to his point of view. He intercepted her as she stepped into the aisle. “You asked good questions tonight,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you more—maybe over coffee?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze slid sideways, avoiding him. “My parents...”
“Your parents will be snug in bed, watching crime dramas,” her curly haired friend said. “I know because they’re just like my mom.”
“Kelly, have you met Ryder? Ryder, this is Kelly Jepson.” Christa made the introduction.
Ryder nodded to Kelly, but focused on Christa once more. “It’s just coffee,” he said, wanting to reassure her, in case she suspected him of ulterior moments. “I’m just trying to avoid going back to my empty apartment. I’m not a fan of crime dramas.”
This admission earned him the hint of a smile. “All right. But where can we get coffee this time of night?”
“The Blue Bell stays open late on Thursdays,” Kelly volunteered. “The Lions Club used to meet then, and after they changed their meeting time, Etta Mae just kept the same hours.”
“The Blue Bell it is,” he said. “Should I drive?”
“I’ll meet you there,” she said, and left before he could protest.
CHAPTER THREE
BEFORE EXITING THE school parking lot, Christa called home to check with her parents. As Kelly had predicted, they were watching TV. “I thought I’d stay and have coffee with a friend,” she said. Though her parents knew Ryder, she didn’t want them jumping to conclusions. This wasn’t a date—they were merely continuing their discussion about the highway project.
“Have a good time,” Dad said. “You have your key to let yourself in.”
“Yes.” Later, she’d give her dad a hard time about not warning her that Ryder was the highway engineer. At least that explained how Ryder knew so many people in town; he’d been schmoozing the locals, winning them over to his side. Her dad had probably thought it was a good joke to play on his daughter.
“All right then. Good night.”
She ended the call, fighting a nervous flutter in her stomach. Maybe agreeing to meet up with Ryder had been a bad idea. He’d been so warm and charming in the meeting, but were those emotions real, or merely a show to get what he wanted?
Ryder was waiting in front of the Blue Bell when she parked a few doors down. It looked as if a good number of people who had attended the highway forum had retired to the café for coffee and pie. “Just sit anywhere,” the waitress said when they entered.
Ryder escorted her to a booth along one wall, his hand resting very lightly against her upper back, guiding her through the crowd. The warmth of his hand through her dress made her heart beat a little faster. What was it about him that affected her so?
Several people greeted him as they passed—more than said hello to Christa, even. “You seem to have made a lot of friends in town,” she said, as she slid into the booth across from him.
“Acquaintances, anyway. You know how people are around here—welcoming.”
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“All over. I’d lived in three different countries by the time I entered first grade. We went wherever the army told my father to go, wherever he was needed.”
She couldn’t imagine what such a nomadic life would be like. She’d been born and raised in Cedar Grove; no matter where she lived from now on, this would always be home. She wouldn’t want to be like Ryder—rootless.
The waitress came to take their order. “Just coffee,” Christa said. “With cream.”
“I’ll have black coffee,” Ryder said. “And do you have any of that blackberry pie left?”
“For you, I might be able to find a couple of slices.” The waitress smiled at him, clearly flirting.
He looked at Christa. “You sure you won’t indulge? It’s homemade.”
Her mouth watered at the memory of Etta Mae’s pies. “All right. Thanks.”
When the waitress left, Christa continued their conversation. “And now you’re in a job where you travel a lot. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed in one place?”
“I’m hoping this will be it. This is the biggest job I’ve been on and it should take over two years.”
Something about the pride in his voice made her hazard a guess. “Is this your first time overseeing a job this big?” After all, he couldn’t be much older than her.
“Yes. I was only recently promoted. Obviously, I want my bosses to feel they made the right decision to put me in charge.”
“You certainly seem to be winning over people in the meeting tonight.”
“Present company excepted?” The dimples showed on either side of his mouth.
“I don’t dislike you.” She shifted in her seat. The opposite, really. He was a very easy man to like. “But I don’t like what you’re doing. I don’t think it’s right.”
“You don’t like the route chosen for the highway.”
“I think it should be closer to town, so that the town is the focus and not some new development ten miles away.”
“What about the rest of the route, beyond the town?” His expression grew wary, though she couldn’t imagine why.
“I didn’t pay much attention to that,” she admitted. “I’ve never been very good at reading maps or envisioning things in space. I had to take remedial geometry in school.” She was an idea person, not a picture person.
“Paul Raybourn said you worked for a marketing firm.”
“I did.” She hesitated, tempted to gloss over her unemployment, or even outright lie. But she wasn’t a dishonest person and besides, she hadn’t done anything wrong. “My company laid off a bunch of people and I was one of them. It’s why I came home—to regroup and save money while I look for another job.”
“Traveling for my job, I’ve met a lot of people in the same boat, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I hope you find a new job soon.”
“I’m sure I will.” The job hunting seminar she’d attended in Houston had emphasized remaining positive. Of course, finding a new job also meant sending out résumés, putting in applications and networking with contacts in her field—all things she hadn’t gotten around to doing yet. But she’d start the job hunt soon. She’d just wanted a little time to lick her wounds and regain her equilibrium.
“Have you thought of going into business for yourself?” he asked. “That’s an option a few people I know have taken.”
“When I first graduated college, I thought of starting my own business,” she said. “After I’d gained some experience working for others. But I don’t know what I’d do.”
The waitress returned with their coffee and pie. “That looks great.” He admired the pie, and then returned his attention to Christa. “What would you really like to do?”
“Something service oriented, I think.” She added cream to her cup. “I want to help people and solve problems. I’d like to make a difference.” At her old job, she’d had the opportunity to work on a couple of campaigns for nonprofits. She’d enjoyed that work most, though the majority of her time was spent on other, less-satisfying projects.
“Then we’re not so far apart. I want to help folks, too—help them get to jobs and spend less time commuting and more time with their families.”
“People could do that if they stayed here in Cedar Grove.”
“Except there aren’t many jobs here—not that pay what jobs in the city do.”
That was another problem altogether, one neither of them was likely to solve. But she wasn’t going to let him off so easily. “I don’t buy your argument that you had to choose the shortest route,” she said. “A route to the north of Cedar Grove would still be shorter than taking the current road. It would meet your goal of a faster commute and it would be more convenient. Travelers could stop in Cedar Grove and get gas or a bite to eat, or to use the restroom.”
“The new shopping development will have gas stations and restaurants. But a rest area with comfort stations and picnic tables is a good idea. I’ll have to look into that.” He pulled out his smartphone and tapped in a note.
She took a bite of pie. The combination of sweet-tart berries and flaky pastry was better than anything she’d had in the city—the kind of treat tourists would line up to buy, if they only got to town and discovered it. “You talk as if the highway is a done deal,” she said. “As if it’s too late to change anything. But all I’ve seen is drawings. You admitted in the meeting that you don’t even have all of the right of way.”
“We have commitments from everyone we need, but we’re not rushing people. Despite what people like to think, the state doesn’t bully its citizens. We’ll complete the negotiations soon. We’re surveying and expect to break ground on schedule.”
“Until you start pouring concrete, there’s still time to rethink this.”
She focused on her pie, aware of his gaze on her. She couldn’t remember a man looking at her with such intensity. What did he see? He wasn’t hostile—when she glanced up, she was surprised to find only sympathy in his expression. “I know this isn’t what you want,” he said, in the gentle voice that had first attracted her. “But not every change is bad.”
“This one isn’t good.” She tried to keep her attention on the pie, but was aware of him still watching her.
“You’ve had too much change in your life lately, haven’t you?” he said after a moment.
“What do you mean?” Her heart was racing again. She hated that he unsettled her so.
“It can’t be easy, losing your job and moving back home. That’s a lot to adjust to.”
And she wasn’t adjusting well—was it so obvious, even to a stranger? Was he so perceptive, or just making a lucky guess? “I’m looking at this as a much-needed break. A vacation.”
“And this highway project is just one more thing to deal with. One more upheaval.”
“Yes. I guess you could say that.”
“Just remember, this isn’t really that important. Not like your future.”
His words confused her. “You don’t think this highway is important? Then why are you so unwilling to consider altering the plans?”
“The highway is important to me. And it will be important to a lot of other people, some who don’t even live here yet. But it’s a road, not a person. Even cold, logical engineers know the difference.”
Her cheeks grew hot as she remembered what she’d said to Kelly. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” she said. “I was frustrated.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He sipped his coffee, still watching her over the rim of his cup. “Have you talked to your parents about the highway project?” he asked.
Why was he asking about her parents? “Not really. We’ve had other things on our minds.”
“Of course. But ask your dad what he thinks. You might be surprised.”
“He said he knew you. He even said you had a good head on your shoulders.”
“I’m flattered. I like him too.”
“He talks as if you two are friends.”
“I like to think we are. Bud was one of the first people I met with when I came to Cedar Grove. One of the best.”
“He hasn’t said much, but he doesn’t seem very upset about the new highway.”
“Talk to him. You might learn some things that surprise you.”
“Neither one of my parents have talked to me all that much since I got here,” she said. “Not about anything important. They seem, I don’t know, distracted.”
“But they’re happy to have you home, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know about that either.” Despite their attempts at enthusiasm this afternoon, dinner had been quiet, conversation strained. Neither parent had asked more about Christa’s job, though she would have thought they would have wanted to know the details of her layoff. “Sometimes I think they’d be happier if I wasn’t here. Mom seemed anxious to get me out of the house this afternoon, and she keeps urging me to get involved with clubs and things in town. She has a whole calendar of activities planned for me, as if she doesn’t want me around the house any more than necessary.” Telling Ryder these things was like letting air out of an over-inflated balloon. Tension eased from her shoulders and she felt better than she had in days.
“It’s a big adjustment for all of you,” he said. “It’s something I’ve never had to deal with.”
“Where do your parents live?” she asked, ready to change the subject.
“My dad is in Wyoming. We lived there when I was small, but I don’t remember much about it. My mom is in Dallas. She teaches at a private school.”
“They’re divorced?”
“It only happened last year. I’m still trying to get used to the idea.”