Summer at Mustang Ridge Read Online Free Page A

the single-story log cabins that sat in clusters, maybe twenty or so of them marching down to the lake. At the shore, rowboats were tied to an L-shaped dock, a wooden pavilion held a dozen picnic tables and a huge fire pit, and an open area nearby was home to a herd of sawhorses wearing plastic cow heads for roping practice.
    “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Krista said softly. “I always hated leaving, and loved coming home.”
    “Then why leave?”
    “College. Growing-up time, that sort of thing.”
    “Ah. I’m familiar with the concept.” Though in her case it had been a relief to leave, and she hadn’t loved coming home.
    Krista nodded. “Four years for a bachelor’s and another two working at a chain hotel, because I’d seen the writing on the wall.”
    “That your family would have to turn this place into a dude ranch?”
    “That we would have to do
something
if we wanted to survive.” Her smile faded a little. “It wasn’t a unanimous decision, by a long shot . . . but this is looking like our best summer yet, we’re that busy. Too busy, in fact, for Gran to handle the kitchen on her own, which is another reason I’m psyched that you’re here. I was just getting ready to start advertising for a fill-in cook when Gertie called me, and you know what they say!”
    “Any port in a storm?”
    “I was thinking of ‘it was meant to be.’”
    “Sorry. New Englanders are born pessimists.”
    “Bummer.”
    “Exactly.” They shared a laugh.
    “Well, we’ll see if we can’t turn that around in the next few months. Come on!” Krista led them past several clusters of pretty log cabins near the blue, blue lake, to another, slightly larger cabin at the far end of things.
    When Shelby realized that was their destination, her footsteps faltered. “You’re kidding me.”
    The cabin was like something out of a fairy tale, a little log playhouse down by the picturesque lake, with white curtains and purple flowers in the window boxes. It was the kind of scene she would’ve paid a photographer to capture and touch up so she could use it to promote something completely unrelated. Like mouthwash.
It leaves you feeling fresher than a summer breeze in the high country.
    Only this wasn’t a picture or an ad campaign; it was the real deal. It couldn’t be theirs. Could it?
    “Of course I’m not kidding.” Krista took the steps two at a time and opened the door.
    Shaking her head, Shelby followed, with Lizzie right on her heels.
    The inside of the cabin matched the rustic charm of the outside, with exposed logs and rough-hewn furniture that was finished with a smooth, splinter-free gloss. The single big room held two beds at one end, a double and a trundle, both covered with white-and-blue patchwork quilts done in a wedding-ring pattern. At the other end there was a love seat, a coffee table, and a bookcase that held a few paperbacks, along with a dorm-size microwave and fridge. A doorway led to a large bathroom and on the walls, framed photographs that looked like originals taken around the ranch—maybe done by Krista’s twin?—were set opposite wide windows that looked out on a killer view of the blue lake, green fields, and whitecapped purple mountains.
    Shelby stood there for a moment, trying not to gape. Stomach knotting, she said, “I was expecting . . . I don’t know. A tent or something.”
    “You don’t like it?”
    “Duh. But this place must rent for a fortune!”
    Krista shrugged. “Only a small one.”
    “I can’t possibly be working off this plus riding lessons–-slash–day care for Lizzie.”
    “Close enough.”
    Shelby thought fast, tallying her summer budget against what it was costing to keep their apartment back home. “I can add some cash on top.”
    “Only if you want the tent, instead.” Krista paused, expression softening. “Don’t stress about it, please, Shelby. I’m happy with the arrangement if you are. To be honest, Gertie called right after I exhausted the local