“I’ve meant to get to that.” She stared at the man who stood close to six feet tall.
Dark brown wisps of hair hung in shaggy disarray, but coal-black eyes sparkled. His mouth broke open in a half smile, and Jessa caught a glimpse of pearly white teeth. His outfit, from camel-colored work boots to the navy t-shirt with a logo across the chest, was clean and unwrinkled, in contrast to his hair.
“If you have any WD40, I can take care of it for you. Won’t take more than a few seconds.”
She smiled. “You must come from a small town.”
He nodded. “How’d you guess?”
“Strangers generally don’t offer help to other strangers unless they’re small-town born and bred.”
“Or raised to be a gentleman.” He winked. “Not to brag or anything.”
Laughter rose from her belly and floated into the air. “I’m Jessa Graff, the chamber of commerce director. What can I help you with?”
“Landon Reeves.” They shook hands, then he pointed to the rack of brochures. “I’ve been passing through all summer—ever since the highway detour—and each time I say I’ll stop to check out the town, but never do. I’m ahead of schedule this trip so decided to finally see what Jasper Lake’s all about.”
“What brings you through so often if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’m a truck driver. My route takes me close to the border every few weeks.”
“We’ve seen a lot of drivers this summer.” She stepped to the side and grabbed a Jasper Lake Visitor Guide then handed one to him. “This is an overview of our town. Browse through the other brochures and help yourself to them. What activities are you interested in? Hiking? Skiing?”
He shook his head and pushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “Antiques, historical places, bingo maybe?”
Not the answers she’d expected. She prayed her face didn’t reflect her surprise. “We have two antique stores in town and many others in the vicinity. Just last year we introduced a historical tour which might be of interest.” She retrieved the detailed pamphlet and held it out. “There are beautiful bridges, homes dating to the seventeen-hundreds, and a cabin once owned by Theodore Magnus.”
His eyes widened. “The poet?”
“The one and only.”
“Gran loves his work. I grew up listening to her read his poems about the streams in the forest. She rarely took time to herself, but she spent a few minutes reading every day, even if it was to one of my siblings or me.” His expression softened to one of adoration. “We almost lost her a few years ago, but she’s strong as ever. I’d like to give her a weekend retreat for her birthday.”
His list of interests made sense after that statement, and she offered him a genuine smile. “That’s really sweet of you.”
He shrugged again. “It’s not much compared to all she’s done for me.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, she gathered more brochures. “Jasper Lake offers a variety of accommodations for a weekend getaway. Cabins, lake houses, B&Bs—we have it all.”
“I saw the bed and breakfast next door. Gran would love the pink building.” He rolled his eyes but also broke out into a wide grin. “Their home was built in the fifties when pink bathrooms were all the rage, and Gran has never changed the color scheme even through the updates.”
“Pink is pretty.” Not her taste, especially for a bathroom, but to each their own.
“Unless you’re a teenage boy bringing his friends home for the first time. You can imagine the taunts that incurred.”
A single brow arched. “You don’t strike me as the type to care what others think. You marched right in here, making quips on my speech.”
“I’m older and wiser now. Most kids do care, even if they say they don’t.”
“True.”
The conversation stalled. She talked with most visitors who walked through the chamber doors, but Landon intrigued her more than most. She sensed he had lots of stories hiding behind his nonchalant attitude. Added to that, he deeply cared for his grandmother—had profound gratitude for her that he didn’t try to hide.
Sometimes she wished most people who came her way weren’t visitors only here for a brief time. She’d love a chance to sit down with them and hear their stories. It’s the way her mind worked. When everyone else in her schooldays read novels and magazines, she’d curl up with a biography. She enjoyed living vicariously through the colonial settlers and the pioneers of the West. The abolitionist and the suffragettes. Each person to walk the dust of the earth had a story to tell that impacted others, and she wanted to hear them.
Landon held up a handful of glossy papers. “Thanks for the information. Is there a website if I want more?”
“It’s printed on the front and back of the visitor’s guide.” She pointed out the window, to where a glimpse of the bubble-gum pink bed and breakfast peeked through. “Stop by Addy’s if you have time and check it out—if for no other reason than she keeps freshly baked cookies available at all time for visitors.”
