narrowed. "But only in the office, mind. The physical stuff is all yours. I'm too old to be hefting paving stones or pushing a wheelbarrow."
When she didn't say anything—because she couldn't think what it would be—he coughed, went on, "Thing is, I like it here. No real need for me to go back to Seattle. Except maybe to pick up some stuff and give some notice to my fleabag landlord. And I figure with my pension and a nice cut on my cabin rate, things should work out just fine."
"You're serious."
"Damn right." He looked nervous again, as if he weren't sure what to expect.
She saw him straighten his bent shoulders as he waited for her answer. God, he expected her to say no. Did he think she was crazy? "Toby. That would be great," she said, relief drowning her worries. You can do all the paperwork. Take care of the bills, the mail. And I'll be free to finish the cabins.
"We got ourselves a deal then?"
"Deal." She put out her hand. Toby took it and pulled her into a bear hug. She pulled back as soon as she could, uneasy, as always, with physical contact. In that respect, she and the remote, sober Lund were soul mates. "I think you being around all year will be terrific," she added, smiling broadly to mask her awkwardness.
"Good. Now, about that computer..." he added and stuck his chin out.
"What do you know about computers anyway?"
"Enough to get started," the old man said, aligning his seventy-year-old shoulders. "And what I don't know, I'll learn. There isn't anything a person can't learn if he puts his mind to it."
Addy wished she had half his confidence—even though she didn't believe what he said was true. "Okay, but all those bits and bytes will be your business. I want no part of it."
"Like I said, you take care of the buildings. I'll take care of the books. Never was one for having a woman look over my shoulder anyway." He started to walk away, then turned back, his wrinkled face beaming a smile. "Be nice to work with you, sweetums. You're a damn clever girl, and you've done wonders for this place." He shook his head. "Lund Baylor was my friend, but he never did appreciate you, no sir. But you and me? We'll make this old motel a real going concern. Yes, we will."
She watched him go, caught off guard by a wash of tears filling her eyes. She brushed them away, wondered why she always cried when she was happy and never when she was sad. Toby was wrong about her being clever, but she wished with all her heart he wasn't wrong about the future success of the motel.
Star Lake was her home, her safe place—or so she'd thought until she'd heard Beauty's voice again. The miserable, tight hand of worry grabbed at her chest again.
If someone had found them...
The thought of leaving, of running again, weakened her knees, made her heart weep in her chest.
Then don't run this time, Addy. No matter what, don't run.
A brave vow, but in a couple of months she'd turn twenty-nine—make that a hundred if you counted the street years—and if she knew one thing, it was that there were times when running was the only option, the only way to survive.
For now, she had to believe this wasn't one of them; that whatever their problem was, it could be fixed with some smart thinking and a good idea.
She bent to pick up an empty potato chip bag, tucked it into the trash, and looked across the lake. Her lake.
Positive thoughts aside, she couldn't shake the dreary sense her time was up, that maybe that special Someone Upstairs had looked down on Star Lake and decided Addilene Wartenski had been safe long enough—that it was past time she pay for what she had done.
Or hadn't done.
* * *
Frank was pleased with himself, and with Beauty. At first, when he'd seen her load her suitcase into that fancy Lexus convertible of hers, he'd been mad as hell. Then he'd thought on it a bit, decided on a wait-and-see attitude.
Chances were good she was sneaking off to see the Wart—maybe even Vanelleto.
The thought of Vanelleto made his
When she didn't say anything—because she couldn't think what it would be—he coughed, went on, "Thing is, I like it here. No real need for me to go back to Seattle. Except maybe to pick up some stuff and give some notice to my fleabag landlord. And I figure with my pension and a nice cut on my cabin rate, things should work out just fine."
"You're serious."
"Damn right." He looked nervous again, as if he weren't sure what to expect.
She saw him straighten his bent shoulders as he waited for her answer. God, he expected her to say no. Did he think she was crazy? "Toby. That would be great," she said, relief drowning her worries. You can do all the paperwork. Take care of the bills, the mail. And I'll be free to finish the cabins.
"We got ourselves a deal then?"
"Deal." She put out her hand. Toby took it and pulled her into a bear hug. She pulled back as soon as she could, uneasy, as always, with physical contact. In that respect, she and the remote, sober Lund were soul mates. "I think you being around all year will be terrific," she added, smiling broadly to mask her awkwardness.
"Good. Now, about that computer..." he added and stuck his chin out.
"What do you know about computers anyway?"
"Enough to get started," the old man said, aligning his seventy-year-old shoulders. "And what I don't know, I'll learn. There isn't anything a person can't learn if he puts his mind to it."
Addy wished she had half his confidence—even though she didn't believe what he said was true. "Okay, but all those bits and bytes will be your business. I want no part of it."
"Like I said, you take care of the buildings. I'll take care of the books. Never was one for having a woman look over my shoulder anyway." He started to walk away, then turned back, his wrinkled face beaming a smile. "Be nice to work with you, sweetums. You're a damn clever girl, and you've done wonders for this place." He shook his head. "Lund Baylor was my friend, but he never did appreciate you, no sir. But you and me? We'll make this old motel a real going concern. Yes, we will."
She watched him go, caught off guard by a wash of tears filling her eyes. She brushed them away, wondered why she always cried when she was happy and never when she was sad. Toby was wrong about her being clever, but she wished with all her heart he wasn't wrong about the future success of the motel.
Star Lake was her home, her safe place—or so she'd thought until she'd heard Beauty's voice again. The miserable, tight hand of worry grabbed at her chest again.
If someone had found them...
The thought of leaving, of running again, weakened her knees, made her heart weep in her chest.
Then don't run this time, Addy. No matter what, don't run.
A brave vow, but in a couple of months she'd turn twenty-nine—make that a hundred if you counted the street years—and if she knew one thing, it was that there were times when running was the only option, the only way to survive.
For now, she had to believe this wasn't one of them; that whatever their problem was, it could be fixed with some smart thinking and a good idea.
She bent to pick up an empty potato chip bag, tucked it into the trash, and looked across the lake. Her lake.
Positive thoughts aside, she couldn't shake the dreary sense her time was up, that maybe that special Someone Upstairs had looked down on Star Lake and decided Addilene Wartenski had been safe long enough—that it was past time she pay for what she had done.
Or hadn't done.
* * *
Frank was pleased with himself, and with Beauty. At first, when he'd seen her load her suitcase into that fancy Lexus convertible of hers, he'd been mad as hell. Then he'd thought on it a bit, decided on a wait-and-see attitude.
Chances were good she was sneaking off to see the Wart—maybe even Vanelleto.
The thought of Vanelleto made his
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