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Lavender Fields Inn (A Floral Inn Romance)

By June Foster

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Chapter One


Wren Tabor drove her old Toyota, meandering along the winding driveway, past ponderosa pines and blue spruce growing on both sides, to Lavender Fields Inn. An imposing green-tiled roof peeked over the trees in the distance.
Her friend, Johanna, stuck her cell phone back in her purse and grinned. "To think we're here for a whole week."
"I can't wait to visit the spa." Wren pulled into the parking lot. Ahead, stairs led through the three tiered garden to the lodge with the abundance of windows on each of three floors. She popped the trunk, stepped out of the car, and drew in a whiff of fresh mountain air and evergreens. More refreshing than automobile fumes in downtown Denver where she and Johanna taught school.
But would this week erase the recollection of her ex-boyfriend, the guy who'd promised to love her forever? His memory grated like fingernails on an old fashioned blackboard. Though now she'd lost all respect for him. And any love she'd nurtured.
"Ooh, Wren. The inn is more enchanting than the pictures." Johanna stepped out of the car and pulled their suitcases from the trunk, setting them on the pavement.
Four guys, all with rod cases and wearing ball caps, loped up the stairs. They laughed and joked with each other, probably headed to the nearby lake or streams.
"I can't believe we're here." Wren hooked her purse on her shoulder and lifted her suitcase.
Luggage in hand, Johanna bounded up the rock stairs beside Wren to the inn's front entrance then turned and raised her palm, as if swearing in at a trial. "As I walk through the threshold, I hereby vow I will not think about school for an entire week."
Wren chuckled. "Me, too. I can't wait to sample some of the lavender lotions and face creams from the spa. And I want to unwind in the sauna."
She followed Johanna inside. They set their bags in front of a check-in counter to the left. On the right, a living area complete with piano, leather couches, and a stone fireplace invited visitors to gaze into the crackling flames. Bookshelves chockfull of hundreds of volumes lined the walls on either side, begging to be read. The comfy, overstuffed chairs promised relaxation.
"Welcome to Lavender Fields." At the mahogany counter, a fifty-something woman with curly red hair beamed. "I'm Tessie."
After they signed the registration papers, Tessie handed her and Johanna a brochure. "Here's the schedule for the week. On the other side is a list of local attractions. The shops in Bristlecone Pines are fabulous. The Smoke House Restaurant has the best barbeque in town, and you'll love the Triple J Dude Ranch's chuck wagon supper and western show."
Wren's pulse beat double time. If only she could stay a month.
Tessie cupped her mouth, as if telling them a secret. "You couldn't have picked a better time to visit. Sunday, we're having our semiannual lavender festival. And if you like to fish, there's a tournament on Gold Pan Lake. They still have some slots open."
Johanna gave her blonde tresses a fierce shake. "Not me. I'm spending my spare time in the spa."
"I'm with you." Wren laughed. "I can't stand to touch slimy fish."
A college-aged guy approached the desk from down the hall. Wide double doors with Lavender Inn Dining etched on a wooden plaque were visible. "May I show you to your rooms? I'll bring your bags up on the elevator while you're getting settled."
"Thanks, Zach," Tessie said. "They'll be on the second floor." She handed him two packets of keys.
A wide staircase wound up to the next level. At the top of the stairs, Wren peeked over the railing and caught her breath at the living room and fireplace below.
"Your rooms are to the left, ladies." Halfway down the hall, Zach unlocked two side-by-side doors and handed one key to Johanna and the other to Wren. "Have a pleasant stay."
Wren glanced at Johanna. "As soon as my luggage gets here, I'm taking a long bath. Do you want to drive into Bristlecone Pines later and check out The Smoke House?"
Johanna nodded and clapped her hands. "I'd love it. See you in a couple of hours?"
Wren gave her a thumbs-up and stepped into the spacious room. A queen bed complete with a canopy sat against one wall. In front of the bed on the hardwood floor, a pink and white flowery rug matched the bedspread. She opened the shutters on the room's wide window. In the distance, the majestic Rocky Mountains rose above the horizon. Closer to the inn, a meadow of purple and violet flowers graced the mountain side. Lavender fields. She'd arrived at a mountain paradise.
Taking a deep breath, she drew in the aroma of cedar and lavender, soothing her nerves. But would Lavender Fields Inn be enough to mend her broken heart? Would she ever be able to trust another man again?

*****

Graham Maier peered into his car's trunk and unloaded the duffle bag, fishing pole case, and tackle box. Lavender Fields Inn dominated the landscape on the other side of the parking lot, with the magnificent Rockies in the background, a reminder of his purpose here. The Rocky Mountain Anglers Tournament. He slammed the trunk closed. Most guys saw the event as a relaxing fishing retreat, but not him. Even the mountain breeze with aromatic pine conifers and evergreens didn't sooth his stomach's churning. The tournament wasn't merely a spare time, fun event but another opportunity to prove to Dad he could do something better than Greg, especially since his brother hated fishing.
Graham firmed his lips, grabbed his luggage, and trudged into the lodge. Straight ahead, an attendant escorted two women up a curved stairway. His mouth went slack. It couldn't be. The one with shiny dark hair―so like the nameless girl who'd occupied his dreams more than once in the last five years.
Setting his luggage down, he stepped toward the staff member at the counter.
"Yes, sir. Welcome to Lavender Fields Inn." The receptionist smiled. Her nametag introduced her as Tessie.
"Thanks. I need to register and sign up for the fishing tournament."
Tessie passed him some papers. "Sure. Fill these out. Then go down the hall in that direction." She pointed to the right. "The registration table's in the conference room. If you want to leave your gear here, Zach can take it to your room in a few moments." She handed Graham a key.
"Sure." Graham signed the few papers and ambled down the hall to the tournament desk. A brightly colored poster with Rocky Mountain Angler's Association on the front was taped on the wall above a long table manned by two men in shirts with RMAA and a rainbow trout embroidered over the pocket.
Graham stood behind three other guys already in line. He tapped his toe in time with his pounding heart. Spinner fishing had always intrigued him. If he could come in first place, Dad might be proud of him for once since his father loved the sport.
When the line moved up a step, Graham planted his feet on the tiled floor and allowed another thought—the persistent image in his dreams. Light brown eyes with flecks of gold twinkled above a petite nose and luscious full lips. Raven, shoulder length hair graced creamy, smooth shoulders. With a start, he drew his attention back to the tournament registration desk. He had to shake the image of a woman he'd never met and concentrate on winning the fishing tournament. 

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