“What seems odd?”
“The whole thing. If she’s from Angel’s Camp, why isn’t she going there? Why would she want to spend the holidays in Whiskey Creek?”
“You’ll have to ask her,” Morgan said. “Unless you want me to show the house. I’d be happy to take over for you.”
He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Sorry, you have a couple of hours before quitting time, which you’ll spend here. I’ll take care of meeting Ms. Bennett.”
She huffed. “Great. I’ll be the one to get tortured by your ex-wife.”
“Just point her to the back corner of the warehouse, where I put that used water heater.”
“I’d like to point her somewhere, but it isn’t to the back of the warehouse.”
He chuckled. “Be careful crossing her. She can be vengeful.”
“You’re too nice to her. She doesn’t deserve a guy like you, even as an ex.” She mimed zipping her lips. “But that’s it. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“Thank you.”
She straightened the cowl of her sweater. “I hope Lourdes Bennett wants the house. Wouldn’t it be exciting to have her in town—on your property?”
He wasn’t so sure. Thanks to Noelle, he’d had about all he could take of difficult women. “Unless she’s a diva. But if she is a diva, I can’t imagine why she’d rent my house. A diva would want something fancier—in Bel Air or the Bay Area.”
“Whiskey Creek may not be as famous as San Francisco or LA, but it’s beautiful here in the foothills. And she’ll love the house. After what you’ve done to the place, who wouldn’t?”
Built in the thirties, it had once been a farmhouse, which was why they still referred to it as the farmhouse. When he’d purchased the land so he could expand his plant, he’d decided to update the house that was there and turn it into another rental. He already had a couple of places he rented out, so it made sense. “The house is only about a thousand square feet.” He’d opened up the kitchen and living room areas and expanded the office, but there were only two bedrooms and two baths. That wouldn’t be conducive to hosting a large group, so if she planned to bring her whole entourage for a Christmas party or something, it wouldn’t work.
“One person can’t need any more space than that,” Morgan said.
“If it is just one person.” Kyle was tempted to search Google for Lourdes’s name. He sometimes listened to country-western music, enough to be familiar with her song “Stone Cold Lover” as well as one other that he couldn’t remember the title of. But he didn’t know anything about her background, family, age or marital status, and now he was curious. From the pictures he’d seen, she didn’t look much older than twenty-five or twenty-six, but who knew how current those photos were? She could’ve played the bars and honky-tonks for years before getting any serious attention.
He would’ve taken a few minutes to read up on her if he hadn’t been afraid Noelle would arrive before he could leave. That made him decide to use his smartphone instead of his computer, since he could do it off the premises.
Grabbing his coat, he told Morgan he’d see her in the morning and drove over to the rental.
2
This was what all the fame and fortune she’d earned so far boiled down to?