Northwest to Love: Victory Hill Trilogy, #1

By Kay Brooks

Travel agent, Piper Richardson writes a blog – On the Move – about her adventures. Aaron Young has just purchased an online newspaper that he wants to revitalize.

Piper mistakenly emails Aaron instead of her webmaster while on her way to Alaska. Intrigued by her blogs and vivid pictures, Aaron decides she is the breath of fresh air he needs for the paper.

They "happen" to meet at the Victory Hill B&B and embark on an adventure in Alaska. Everyone enjoys her descriptive blogs until someone hacks her Facebook.

Can two strangers that meet by chance overcome disillusionment and find true love in the exciting and magnificent northwest. Add their picture to the bed and breakfast's "wall of love"?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kay Brooks
• Release date: Dec 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386337140

Kay Brooks

As a teenager, Kay enjoyed reading Georgette Heyer, Daphne duMaurier, Mary Stewart and Victoria Holt and treasured the ones she collected. She discovered contemporary romance when she needed something light to read while the children were napping.  She found herself wondering “what if” and decided to write a story of her own.  She joined the Virginia Romance Writers and Washington Romance Writers DC and made many, many new friends while fine-tuning her writing skills. Three small children, a full-time job as a Library Director, little league and civic obligations caused her put the pen away for a while, although she continued to write news articles and library newsletters.  She became immersed in the community and made friends with many of the citizens through the library. In 2013, she retired and pulled out her old manuscripts.  Once again, she found herself wondering, “what if I make a change here?  A change there?  Update things?” She has written five books: The Row Series: Spicer’s Challenge Book 1 (2014) Dreams Fulfilled Book 2 (2015) Newfound Love, Book 3 (2017) Standalone Persistent Intruder (2017) Love Again (2018) There are many more “what if” stories waiting to come alive. Please enjoy her website, www.kaydbrooksauthor.com Newsletters, Kay Uncorked Facebook page: Kay Brooks She also welcomes comments via email: [e-mail] 

Book preview

Victory Hill

EDWIN COMFORT AND HIS WIFE, WILMA, STOOD BESIDE EACH OTHER, their arms around each other.

They studied the tall two-story brick house with its red tin roof and fireplaces on each end. Brown columns on either side of the semi-circle of brick steps supported the wood canopy sheltering the brown double front doors.

Mystery and paranormal sightings made the house a bargain of an investment. The Donovan family was rid of the white elephant and Edwin was able to fulfill his wife’s biggest dream.

While he had been away fighting the Great War, his wife and mother nurtured a Victory Garden on the property that had been vacant for over ten years. Wilma cultivated the grounds and amassed an extensive crop, providing much of the vegetables for the small town’s farmer’s market.

Edwin had bought the house for five hundred dollars and as of two hours ago it was officially theirs.

Thank you, Wilma sighed. This house has been calling to me for the past two years.

Her husband chuckled. The ghost too?

Wilma rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at the second story window.

I think I saw her once. I was weeding the garden and happened to look up, caught a glimpse of the curtains moving, then the pale woman stared down at me. I couldn’t see it, but I felt the sadness in her gaze.

There’s a big difference in tilling the gardens outside and living inside full time. Are you sure you’re up to it?

Wilma glanced over at their son William chasing butterflies in the yard.

Your parents have been so good to us, but we need a place of our own. She looked up at Edwin. "I want to name it Victory Hill. Not only because of the Victory Garden but because the house has survived so much. Once such a grand estate, then a hospital during the Civil War, it sits so proudly atop this hill with such a splendid view of the town. It’s so unfortunate all people can think about is a ghost and a murder."

There were eight rooms inside, four upstairs and four downstairs.

You plan on filling all the bedrooms upstairs?

Wilma smiled. If it’s God’s will.

The Coopers can stay in two of the rooms while they build their house. And there are always travelers passing through town on the train.

Wilma thought about the new stove Edwin and his father had installed earlier that morning. She envisioned pot roasts, potatoes, seasoned vegetables and pies available not only for the orphans outside of town but anyone who wanted a hot meal. She planned to eventually serve hot meals in the large dining room for those in need.

Wilma sighed. Do you think anyone will come?

Maybe not right away but with a lot of muscle and sweat to rebuild the house and your good cooking, they won’t resist too long.

PROLOGUE

AARON YOUNG HEARD THE PING OF AN INCOMMING EMAIL and decided to give his computer one last look before leaving for the day.

He and Mark Harrison had closed the deal for the purchase of the Streaming Syndicate this morning. He provided the much-needed revenue to keep the online paper going, Mark would continue as the managing editor and his go to man.

He glanced at his Oyster Perpetual Rolex watch. Eight o’clock. Mark was apparently keeping him informed.

A frown creased his brow when he read the brief email.

Hey, Abby. Quick note to let you know I’m ‘on the move’ (ha-ha). Tonight’s post will be ready by eight in the morning but here are some pictures. ~ Piper.

Who was Abby? He wondered. And why would he be receiving an email addressed to her? He studied the signature and frowned. Piper Richardson. The name sounded familiar.

He shook his head. Apparently, Ms. Richardson had him confused with someone else in the Streaming Syndicate mail system. He checked the roster of employees and saw there was indeed an Abby Hall on the paper’s list of employees.

He started to forward the email to Abby Hall but glimpsed the website and Facebook links displayed in Piper Richardson’s signature.

Piper Richardson, he repeated to himself. Why did that name sound familiar? He clicked on her website and studied the picture. Shoulder length ash brown hair, brandy colored eyes, creamy complexion, wide smile of gleaming teeth between lush amber colored lips. He wondered if the photo had been doctored, it looked too perfect.

The name of her blog – On the Move – reminded him Piper Richardson was on his list of prospective contributors to pursue for the newspaper.

He searched the stack of paperwork and pulled out the file folder with her name on it. Studied the five employee questionnaires recommending her as an asset for the paper.

Been following Piper Richardson for three years now and she never disappoints.

Such vivid descriptions, I feel like I am there.

Piper Richardson always visits the most interesting places. Great descriptions with lots of backstory wherever she goes.

Aaron clicked on the pictures attached to the email. In the first, she stood next to a chestnut horse, her head tilted against the horse’s head, a broad smile on her face. Long fingers with short manicured nails caressed the other side of the horse.

He clicked back to the website. Nice, he thought. No photoshop, but the real thing.

The second picture was of the horse racing across large open fields and the third a plush stall. Dream Catcher had just won the Belmont and Piper was obviously visiting the Parkland Stables.

He wondered if the blog would read as good as the pictures and leaned back in his leather executive chair for a quick read.

The following morning, Aaron found another email attached to the original email.

Haven’t heard from you. Hope you got my email. Here’s my cell number in case you’ve forgotten it. (ha, ha). Call me, please. ~ Piper.

Aaron studied the cell number and wondered why she didn’t call this Abby person herself.

Almost immediately another email chimed.

Getting worried! You usually keep me posted. I’m driving and will be arriving at Victory Hill soon. Call me! ~ Piper.

Aaron decided maybe he should give Piper Richardson a call, wondered if her voice would sound as sexy as her pictures. He was disappointed when the phone went directly to a generic voicemail.

Ms. Richardson, I wanted to let you know you mistakenly emailed me last night and this morning. You might want to personally call your friend.

Two hours later, another email notification appeared at the bottom of his screen.

Aaron noted the sender and shook his head. Obviously, Piper Richardson was a woman of impulse or not very tech savvy as she once again responded to the original email.

Good talking to you. Don’t know how I messed up the email address but hopefully we’re all straight now. Will be at Victory Hill for the next two days, room number five. This place is fantastic! So much history! Working on the first of two blogs before heading to Alaska. ~ Piper.

Aaron’s eyebrows rose at the mention of Alaska. Alaska had been in his bucket list for some time.

He reached for the phone and called his executive assistant.

Mable, I read your recommendation of Piper Richardson for the paper. What can you tell me about her?

Wonderful girl, Mabel gushed. She’s so adventurous and writes such descriptive blogs. I’ve attended some of her personal appearances.

Does she always travel to such extravagant places?

On no. Most of her travels have been local. Or when she visits her family.

Apparently she is going to Alaska.

Oh! Yes! Yes, she is. She’s going there for a vacation. She posted a few days ago she would be sailing for the next two weeks. Talked about how she’s been saving up for this trip for years. Very excited and promised to share her experiences.

While listening to Mabel, Aaron scrolled through Piper’s website a second time. It was simple and refreshing, had a nice crisp look with lots of pictures and interesting text. He decided Piper Richardson might be part of the makeover he was looking for at the paper.

It was early autumn here but winter would be coming to Alaska in a matter of weeks. Now might be a good time to check that one off his list.

Now that the negotiations are done, I think I might take some time off myself. I know this is short notice, but do you think you could see if there are any vacancies on this Alaskan cruise Piper Richardson has booked?

Several hours later, Mabel knocked at his door.

Lucky for you there was one vacancy. It’s the penthouse suite though. I wasn’t sure how badly you wanted to see Alaska.

I’ll take it.

Aaron leaned back in his chair and smiled.

Piper Richardson had crowded his thoughts for the past twelve hours and he wondered if she looked as good in person as she did on the internet.

CHAPTER ONE

VICTORY HILL WON THE COVETED BEST OF B&B AWARD LAST YEAR and to visit the place is like stepping back in time.

William Donovan built the home in 1780 near the railroad along the Great Road where Native Indians and explorers travelled west. Two years later, Donovan founded Williamtown and the railroad became an important part of the economy as more families settled there.

The mansion served as a hospital during the Civil War after the Union Army destroyed the tracks and station. Tragedy struck on July 30, 1864, when James Donovan, William’s great grandson was killed in the mine shaft explosion outside Petersburg, Virginia. The Donovan family never recovered after the death of the beloved son and upon the death of his widow, the property faced decades of neglect. Edwin and Wilma Comfort purchased the farm in 1920 for five hundred dollars.

Two years earlier, Wilma Comfort had planted a Victory Garden behind the house to assist in the war effort of World War I. She named their new home Victory Hill not only because of the extensive gardens but her admiration of the house on the top of the hill that survived so much turmoil, heartache and neglect.

Journeying down the long, white-fenced drive, I was reminded of what southern plantations must have looked like in the 1800’s. I continued beneath overhanging trees and approached this magnificent brick mansion glowing proudly in the afternoon sun. I followed the drive around to the back and found a brick terraced courtyard entrance to the B&B on the right and the acclaimed restaurant further to the left.

Brooke O’Connor, Edwin Comfort’s great, great granddaughter, took me on a tour of the B&B. Hardwood floors shine beneath oriental rugs scattered throughout the house. Walls painted in soft colors encourage relaxation, a feeling you’ve come home. A baby grand piano graces one corner of the living room arranged so guests can talk in small groups or enjoy the music of visiting pianists who play on weekends. A terraced porch and interior windows look out over rolling pasture land, with horses grazing in the distance.

The kitchen has been remodeled and is available for personal use although the staff offers hearty breakfasts of scrumptious scones, potato, ham and cheese waffles, crab benedict, pancakes, crepes, grilled breakfast sandwiches, coffee cakes and hot cereals. Guests are invited to enjoy their meals in the cozy nook of what once served as the butler’s quarters or in the grand dining room with other guests.

The oak stairs are simple but impressive. Portraits of the Comfort ancestors grace the walls of the long staircase to the landing where a banister overlooked the entry downstairs and windows offered a view of the courtyard and restaurant beyond. Another turn and a few more steps lead to the second floor.

I was given a peek at the guest rooms but am sure mine is the most elegant. The walls are peach with white trim are calming but the focal point of the room is the high four-poster bed covered with a crocheted spread and rows of color-coordinated pillows. A love seat in front of the working fireplace hints of a cozy nap on a cold winter afternoon. Antique dressers and tables, one of which serves as a desk, add the homey touch. The small adjoining bathroom offers another step back in time with the claw-foot tub and open sink with exposed pipes.

I look forward to a relaxing night and will follow up with more descriptions tomorrow. ~ Piper

Piper Richardson sat at the wrought-iron table tucked in a corner of the shaded courtyard. She reached for her second cup of coffee, read the blog on her laptop and smiled. She’d worked over an hour last night, researching and fine-tuning it, and hoped her readers would be intrigued by her glimpse of the magnificent bed and breakfast. This evening there would be a second blog before heading for Alaska.

Her ash brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and creamy skin devoid of makeup, she cast brandy colored eyes up to her bedroom window overlooking the courtyard and shivered.

Good thing she’d finished the blog by the time her visitor arrived, she thought.

She shivered a second time, recalled how she had just closed the laptop when the bedroom door came ajar. Considering the house was over two hundred fifty years old, she didn’t doubt there might be drafts. Especially when she caught sight of the movement of the sheers at her window.

But when she closed the door on her way to the bed and it opened and closed a second time, she jumped under the covers, pulled them over her head.

The Victory Hill website warned the bed and breakfast was haunted.

Thank you for such a glowing blog, Brooke O’Connor set another cup of coffee on the table. A petite, energetic woman, she looked to be in her mid-twenties. She wore khaki jeans and a hunter green polo shirt with Victory Hill embroidered above the pocket. Sterling silver hoop earrings hung from her ear lobes, her beautiful ginger colored hair in a long braid down her back.

Brooke chuckled. Made me consider staying here myself.

Piper smiled. You and your family have a very beautiful place. I researched the B&B’s history last night and you’ve done wonders restoring it. I’d love to sit and talk to you about this supposed murder that occurred here.

Brooke frowned. I don’t really know too much about it. The house was turned into an orphanage when Richard Donovan sold it. Lots of children stayed here until one day, the headmaster was found murdered and all of the children had disappeared.

Oh my, Piper exclaimed. That’s so awful. The children just disappeared?

Brooke nodded. I sometimes wonder if the ghost is Richard’s mother, Chelsea, or one of the children in the orphanage.

I’d love to come back and research it, Piper said. Thank you again for the tour yesterday and I look forward to a delicious dinner this evening in the restaurant.

We have you set in a special booth, Brooke said.

They turned when two children race ahead of their parents toward the gardens to enjoy the swings and a small kid gym. The place was even family-friendly, Piper thought to herself.

Ah, Brooke, you mentioned a ghost yesterday. Were you serious?

Brooke chuckled and started to respond but turned at the sound of a car door being closed.

Excuse me, I think we have another arrival. Brooke turned to welcome the tall dark-haired man at the entrance to the courtyard.

Piper observed the two exchange handshakes, appreciated his long, lean physique in tailored gray slacks, neatly combed jet-black hair that just barely touched the collar of his crisp white shirt. He had a pleasant smile, but she took a deep breath when he turned and looked directly at her. She could almost feel his gray eyes appraising her before he followed Brooke inside.

What was that? Piper thought to herself. Chill bumps still covered her arms. She’d never been studied so thoroughly. Not since Clay Hughes.

She shivered again and reached for her cup of coffee.

She had the rest of the day to work on her second blog on Victory Hill then she needed to repack for the Alaska trip. Brooke said the cab would be by early in the morning to take her to the airport in time for her flight. Now she had the first blog done, she’d wander around for ideas for the second.

––––––––

Hours later, Aaron Young relaxed against the bright yellow pillow in a cushioned lounge chair on the brick porch overlooking the front drive. The arched openings offered a spectacular view of the tall Magnolia trees, gardens and gazebo.

It was close enough to five o’clock, he’d fixed himself a gin and tonic at the complimentary bar next to the door into the house. He discreetly spied on Piper Richardson who sat on a bench in the gazebo, her hands brushing a white cat seated beside her.

Seeing her this morning, he decided she looked better in person. Sexy. Steamy. Seductive.

His phone in hand, he checked online for his flight to Alaska and smiled when he found two seats were available in first class. He immediately booked it and then shot off an email to Mabel to send him