Jasper Vale (The Edens #4)(7)

That’s when I looked up.

And realized this path I was walking was familiar.

“For fuck’s sake, Vale.”

I should have taken a left and faced that fountain. Apparently my feet had developed a mind of their own. And this morning, they wanted to return to the scene of last night’s crime.

The small, square building was out of place against the backdrop of sprawling casinos and massive towers. It was too charming. Too real. It belonged anywhere else.

But that was another part of Vegas’s appeal. This city welcomed all shapes and sizes. A couple could get married by Elvis beneath the glow of neon lights at a chapel that offered ninety-nine-dollar weekday specials. Or they could come here.

The Clover Chapel.

The white stucco walls were dotted with intricate, stained glass windows. Their blues and greens caught the morning light. A steeple with a brass bell sat atop the peaked roof. Vines with dainty flowers climbed the structure.

The pale wooden doors were marked with a small four-leaf clover tacked above the threshold. At my rental in Montana, there was a horseshoe in that spot instead.

Maybe if I believed in luck, maybe if I’d ever been lucky, I would have appreciated those symbols.

The chapel was closed now. Clover herself was probably at home, rolling in the cash I’d paid last night. The Clover Chapel didn’t do ninety-nine-dollar specials, certainly not for last-minute walkins only minutes before closing.

But you paid for their ambience.

You paid for the wisteria blooms that filled the open ceiling. They charged a premium for guests wanting to get married beneath a pergola teeming with glittering twigs, fairy lights, greenery and magnolia flowers. For the aisle lined with short, wooden pews to make you feel like you weren’t getting married in Las Vegas but in some quaint country church, surrounded by beloved guests.

Of all the places in the world, why would I come here again?

The ugly horse.

I’d brought Eloise here because of the story she’d told me about that ugly horse drawing.

She’d created such a vivid picture with that tale. Of her as an angry child, painting over a sketch so she could give her dad the card he wanted. I could picture her as a kid, desperate to please her father and surrounded by her shredded attempts at a birthday card. Then her again, smiling and happy, her skin marred with every shade of paint as she flipped off the idea of perfection.

That was why I’d brought her here last night.

She wasn’t the only one who wanted to take something ugly, something lacking, something painful, and cover it up with something beautiful.

“Pretty chapel, isn’t it?” A woman walking a chihuahua on a sparkly pink leash passed by. Her rainbow iridescent visor matched the dog’s collar.

I nodded, waiting for her to leave. Then I focused on the building again.

An ugly horse.

Covered in vibrant paint.

Yeah, this was a pretty chapel. I’d thought so the last time I’d been here.

The first time I’d gotten married in Las Vegas.





CHAPTER THREE





ELOISE





“Miss?”

I jerked at the lady’s voice. Lost in my head, drawing invisible circles on the hotel’s mahogany reception counter, I hadn’t heard her approach.

Guests had been sneaking up on me for the last three days, ever since I’d come home from Vegas.

“Sorry.” I gave her a bright smile. “Welcome to The Eloise Inn. Checking in?”

“Yes.” She nodded, then gave me her name to pull up in our reservation system.

Five minutes later, I slid over two key cards tucked into a paper envelope with her room number written on its face.

“The elevator is there.” I pointed toward the foyer. “You’re in room 302. Take a right when you get off the elevator and your room is at the end of the hallway. Can I have anything sent up for you this afternoon?”

“No, thank you.” She smiled, glancing around the lobby. “This is my first visit to Quincy. Your hotel is delightful.”

“Thank you.” I beamed at the compliment. “I think it’s rather delightful myself. Welcome to town. Are you here visiting friends or family?”

“My sister just moved here.”

“Ah.” I nodded. Had I met said sister?

Quincy was a small town. When it came to the locals, there weren’t many faces I didn’t recognize. Though lately, that had changed. More and more people were looking to escape city life, and my hometown was a rural gem tucked into the rugged landscape of western Montana.

“Enjoy your stay,” I told the guest. “Please let me know if you need anything at all.”

With a wave, she headed toward the elevator.

Beside it, the walls were lined with potted evergreens. The miniature trees were still adorned with the white twinkle lights we’d added for the holidays. Taking the lights off was on my to-do list, I just hadn’t gotten to it yet. Mostly because their tiny sparkles added a bit of charm to the hallway.

We were in the strange season in Montana, not quite winter, not quite spring. Beyond the glass windows that overlooked Main Street, there was a fresh skiff of snow on the sidewalks.

A wood fire crackled in the large hearth on one side of the grand room. I’d keep the fire going until the snow was gone. I liked the gentle, smoky scent it gave the hotel’s lobby. And the mantel, the stone column that towered to the rafters, just looked prettier with a fire burning in its hearth.