McCall

by Patricia Evans Jordan

  “The better news is that I spoke to Mrs. Parker about this place before I came out and she knows what she needs to get out of it as far as price. She’s a pretty no nonsense gal, so I’d be surprised if she’d accept anything but that number.”

  “Great,” Sara said, winding her hair into a quick bun at the back of her head. “That makes it easy.”

  “Well,” Gerald said, “I’ll let you decide what you want to do about this, but she wants $125,000 for the house and property. The plot of land is not big; the survey indicates it’s just under three acres and the cabin is only 750 square feet, but because of where it is, it’s valued at $340,000.”

  “The value doesn’t surprise me,” Sara said. “I’ve done a bit of research on similar properties on the north side, but what she wants for it is way too low.”

  “I know,” Gerald said. “I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered this problem before.”

  Gerald grinned and set his bottle down on the table as he took the check from Sara for the appraisal. “But she’s a smart lady so I’d bet the farm she has a reason. You two will figure it out.”

  Sara thanked him and watched him walk to his truck, until she remembered suddenly the last thing she wanted to ask him.

  “Hey!” she called after him. “So what was the bad news?”

  He smiled and tipped his hat as he got into the car and fired up the old diesel engine. “Take a look over your front door.”

  Sara watched his truck pull out of her drive and rumble up the road, preoccupied by the question of what to do about Mrs. Parker.

  ****

  Sam leaned back in her office chair and swiveled around to face the window that perfectly framed the marina outside. The ropes and pulley from the flagpole were clanging in the wind, and the heat from the afternoon sun warmed her face, even through the glass. Routine paperwork was driving her up a wall suddenly. She hated it even on a good day, but when it seemed to be a self-replenishing pile, it reminded her how much she preferred being on the water. And not just because it was impossible to do paperwork in an open boat at sixty miles an hour. That was just a bonus.

  A knock on her door made her turn her chair around.

  “Do you have a moment?”

  Lily, the twenty-three year old temp sent from headquarters in Boise, stepped in and closed the door. She was slender, startlingly pretty in a hipster way, with a dark angled bob and light blue eyes. The regular receptionist, Marnie, was on maternity leave for a few more months, and everyone but Sam was counting the days until she returned.

  Sam got up from her chair slowly, walked to the door, and locked it behind Lily, her fingers brushing the small of her back. She pressed her slowly against the door with her body, one arm on either side of her head, then worked her fingers into Lily’s hair and pulled her head gently to the side. She didn’t quite touch Lily’s skin with her mouth, just let the heat of her breath travel down to her shoulder, where she slid her finger under the strap of her sundress and dropped it down her shoulder.

  Sam stepped back. Her voice was soft, but rough around the edges. “Take it off.”

  Lily wordlessly unzipped her dress as Sam walked back to her desk and leaned against it, watching as the dress dropped to the floor.

  “All of it.”

  Sam knew the sounds of her breath from across the room. It was fast, like her heartbeat; she’d memorized it over the last few weeks, her palm pressed between Lily’s naked breasts, holding her body still while her tongue slid across her clit. Sam looked up and held her eyes.

  Lily crossed the room and stood in front of Sam, who slid a thumb under her sheer panties, scraping them lightly down her thighs, then dropping them onto the desk behind her.

  She lifted Lily into her arms, wrapping her legs easily around her waist, then turned and laid her down on the desk. Sam ran her hands down the insides of Lily’s thighs, then lowered her mouth to Lily’s clit, the slick heat of her body enveloping her fingers and dripping slowly almost down her wrist as she entered her.

  “Do you want this?”

  Sam waited. She asked her every time, and made her look her in the eyes and answer before she’d go on.

  “Yes,” Lily said, arching her back, “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Sam,” she said, more breath than words, “Please fuck me.”

  ****

  Where was that stupid business card the lake cop had given her? Sara rummaged around in the shorts she was wearing yesterday but came up with nothing, and a quick search of her boat yielded a bottle of out of date sunscreen and little else. I remember her handing it to me, Sara thought.

  Sam had parked her boat in the slip, then handed Sara her card as she’d tied off Sara’s boat and stepped into the patrol boat she’d called to pick her up. Sara wondered suddenly if it was in the pocket of the jacket when she gave it back to Sam, then remembered in a rush that she couldn’t have given the jacket back when Sam dropped her off at the cabin; she’d been naked under it. Great, at least returning her jacket won’t be awkward.

  It was late in the afternoon when Sara made it into town and stopped by the drugstore, hoping to catch Mary, but no luck. She went on to the grocery store and picked up a few ingredients for dinner, then walked to Lake Patrol at the McCall police station.

  “How can I help you?” The Lake Patrol receptionist raised one eyebrow, her eyes dropping to the jacket in Sara’s hand.

  “I just need to return this to Sam.”

  “Do you mean Captain Draper?”

  Sara nodded and the door to her right buzzed open.

  “Go down the hall, it’s the last door on the left.”

  Sara was hoping she could just leave the jacket with someone and avoid Sam altogether, but that clearly wasn’t an option. She went through the door and down the hall to her office, knocking lightly, half hoping she was out.

  “Come in.”

  Sam was writing, but paused to look up when Sara laid the jacket on one of the chairs in front of her desk. “It’s you,” she said, leaning back in her chair and spinning the pen slowly through her fingers. “Sara, right?”

  “I just came to return your jacket.”

  Sam smiled. “Found a shirt, huh?”

  Sara wanted to pitch the jacket at her. Was she so arrogant that it wouldn’t occur to her that being found half-naked might be embarrassing? She picked the jacket back up.

  “Well, just for that, I’m keeping it.”

  Sam flashed her a smile. “How’s your head?”

  “It’s okay.” Sara rubbed the back of her neck with her hand. “My neck actually hurts worse than my head.”

  “You took quite a hit, judging from that cut, so that’s not surprising.” Sam got up from her chair and looked closer at the bandage. “Have you changed that dressing?”

  “No. I went to the drugstore just now for those butterfly things but it was closed. I must have just missed Mary.”

  Sam looked at her watch. “No, it’s just time for Days of Our Lives. She closes for an hour every afternoon to watch it; she’ll be open again around four PM.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Sara said. “And everyone in town just knows that?”

  “Well, I guess so since I just told you.” Sam smiled. “Aren’t you our newest local?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “There’s not much going on that I don’t know about,” Sam said, leaning back on her desk. “But Bart Riley came in yesterday to register the title transfer on his boat, and mentioned you’d be in eventually to get a boating license.”

  Sara looked at her, trying to determine if she was serious.

  “You do know you need a boating license to be on the water, right?”

  “Well,” Sara said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I do now.” The lake cops clearly took water safety seriously. “Where do I buy one of those?”

  “You get it here,” Sam said. “But you may want to do a bit of practicing before you take the test if yesterday
is any indication of your current boating skills, and a licensed driver needs to be with you in the boat at all times.”

  “There’s a test?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sam shuffled the papers on her desk and held up a typed sheet with what looked like a hundred names on it.

  “Lake Patrol has to administer the test and pass you, and we’re going into camp season, so all of their waterfront staff is already in line ahead of you.”

  “So,” Sara said, “Let me get this straight. I have to practice for this test, but I’m not allowed to get out on the water to do that unless I’ve already passed it.” Sara paused, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Then even if I somehow manage to get that done, all those people are in line to take the test ahead of me?”

  Sam reached into her desk and handed Sara a book. “Everything you need to know is in there. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll put you on the list. It’s late May now,” Sam said, running her finger down the list. “I’d say you should be close to the top by October.”

  It took everything Sara had not to slam the door on the way out.

  ****

  The next few weeks flew by, and unless it was to get supplies or grocery shop, Sara rarely went into town. She’d closed on the cabin fairly quickly by real estate standards, which was exactly what she wanted. After the appraisal, Sara had stopped into the drugstore to discuss the price of the cabin, but Mary shook her head and shut her down mid-sentence.

  “I’m not taking a penny less than $125,000.”

  Sara thought for a second then nodded. “I understand,” she said. “It’s a deal.”

  They shook on it and Mary persuaded her to stay and watch Days of Our Lives. Since then, every time she popped into the drugstore, Mary gave her a synopsis of what was happening in the storylines, and not that she’d admit it, but Sara had started to look forward to the updates.

  She had the only real estate attorney in town write up the terms of the cabin sale for Mary to review, and just as Sara had hoped, she’d signed the papers without looking at them carefully and handed them back to Sara. Mary didn’t realize until the closing that Sara had given her the appraisal value of the cabin, nearly three times the $125,000 she’d asked for.

  “I agreed I wouldn’t give you a penny less than the price you wanted,” Sara said, “But I never said I wouldn’t give you more.”

  Mary hugged her, and Sara was surprised to see she had tears in her eyes.

  “It’s what the property is worth,” Sara said. “I wouldn’t have felt right about it any other way.”

  “I won’t forget this,” Mary said, squeezing her hand. “Thank you.”

  Then she turned and punched the attorney in the arm for tricking her. Just in case anyone was thinking she’d gone soft.

  ****

  The cabin was starting to look like home. Sara had a restoration company refinish the floors and the interior surface of the log walls to the same golden honey color, finished with a satin gloss. She painted the ceiling beams white and replaced the loft ladder with a spiral iron staircase. New white linen curtains and a small farm table completed the main room, and soft ivory carpet warmed the loft. The worn leather sofa stayed, of course, as well as the turquoise fifties refrigerator with the dented door that Sara had grown to love.

  A few weeks after she’d closed on the cabin, Sara stopped into the drugstore and pointed across the street at the abandoned diner she noticed every time she passed it on the street. It was small, the seating area looked to be only about 1200 square feet, but there were floor to ceiling windows in the front. Sara stopped and looked at it frequently, and from what she could see with her face pressed up against the glass, there was an old-fashioned Formica bar at the back near the kitchen.

  “How long has that been closed?”

  “Well,” Mary said, pouring Sara a mug of coffee from the pot she kept under the counter and sliding it over to her, “Good morning to you, too.”

  “Sorry,” Sara said, “I’ve always wanted to ask you about that place and just remembered.”

  “That was Gus’ place, and it’s been closed about two years now.” She squinted out the window toward the diner. “It’s a shame too; he was a stand-up guy and he made a kick-ass cheeseburger.”

  “Where the hell do people go for lunch around here? I’ve wondered that since the first day.”

  “Well, the tourists go to that fancy sandwich stop as you come into town that has fifty-seven varieties of lettuce and organic beer or whatever the hell they advertise, but the locals always went to the diner. I guess when he passed on we just stopped going anywhere.”

  “It sounds like everyone loved him.”

  “We did,” Mary said, bending down and fiddling with the coffee to hide the emotion Sara had already seen. “He was the police chief here for twenty-five years, then after that he owned that diner for almost twenty. He used to spend most of the day at that counter, talking about God knows what with a group of old men who’d just sit there and drink coffee all day. They’ve all just kind of scattered since the place closed down.”

  “I’d love to get a look at the inside of that place,” Sara said, looking out the window at the tattered awning above the diner’s front door. “Do you know who has it listed?”

  “Not a clue,” Mary said, pulling a set of keys out of the cash register. “But if you want to see it, I’ve got the key.”

  Mary stopped as she rounded the corner of the counter and peered down the aisles. “Moira, I’m stepping across the street,” she called out to the older woman at the back of the store, who was holding a bottle of vitamin E two inches from her bifocals. “Come get me when you’re ready to check out.”

  Mary put a card on the door that said she’d be back in five minutes and they walked across to the diner. The light scattered across the tile floor as they came in, and Sara could smell the musty scent of an old building. Cobwebs sagged under layers of dust in every corner, and a broken sign hung from one end of a string on the inside of the door. Retro booths with black vinyl seats lined the far edges of the room, and matching chrome and vinyl chairs sat around the tables scattered between. It was small as restaurants go, just enough room for about twelve tables and the booths against the walls.

  But the bar drew Sara. She ran her hand over the pale blue, gold-flecked surface, following the curved chrome rim with her finger. She glanced back at Mary, who was leaning against the door with a smile that looked like a secret. There was a paper still laying by the cash register and scattered sugar packets behind the counter as if someone had left in a hurry. Sara pushed open the swinging double doors and stepped into the kitchen. It was all stainless steel appliances and work surfaces, customary for a commercial kitchen, but hand written recipes and photos of the staff covered the walls. It wasn’t hard to spot Gus, a portly man with a white beard to the center of his chest, his arm around someone in every shot.

  “Look at this one,” Mary said as she came through the doors, leading Sara into the tiny office. “It’s my favorite.”

  Hanging over the desk was a newspaper cutting of a younger Gus, at what looked like a swearing in ceremony. He held a bible for that infuriating lake cop, who had one hand on it and the other on Gus’ shoulder.

  McCall Police Chief Gus Draper swears in daughter Samantha Draper as Captain of the McCall Lake Patrol Division for the McCall Police Department.

  “Oh wow,” Sara said. “Gus was her father?”

  Mary nodded. “He and his wife Marcy adopted Sam when she was about six, and then Marcy died when Sam was fifteen. Gus loved that woman more than life, but Sam was his heart; they were always close.” Mary leaned in closer to the picture. “I was worried about her when he passed last year; she just seemed to shut down and get hard around the edges.”

  “So Sam was adopted?”

  “That’s right,” Mary said, nodding. “Her birth mother left her at the damn county fair with a note pinned to her shirt. They found her in the early morning,
but they think she’d been there since the night before. I don’t remember what the note said, but that woman was long gone.”

  Sara stared at the picture. “I can’t believe anyone would do that to a child.”

  “She stayed with Gus and Marcy for the first few days, but of course Child Protective Services came from Boise and placed her with a foster family here in McCall after a while. But that girl ran away every chance she got and curled up on the Draper’s porch swing every time. They kept trying to take her back, but she kept running away, and eventually Gus and Marcy petitioned to adopt her.”

  “Wow.” Sara stared at the picture just above the newspaper cutting of Sam and Gus in a boat, leaning back in identical chairs, fishing. “That’s big love.”

  Mary looked at Sara and touched the edge of the picture. “Yep,” she said, “That’s exactly what it was.”

  ****

  It didn’t take long for Sara to find the diner listed online. The pictures were blurry, but she’d seen the place already with Mary so that didn’t matter, and the price was reasonable. The listing said it had been on the market for nine months, so Sara prepared herself for the possibility someone had already put it under contract and the website hadn’t been updated. From what she’d learned about the pace of business in McCall, that seemed like a distinct possibility. She decided to take a chance and call the agent.

  “Hello, this is Stephanie Barton with Lakeside Realty.” The woman who answered the phone sounded rushed. “How can I help you?”

  “Hi, this is Sara Brighton.” Sara tried to keep the eagerness from showing in her voice. “I’m interested in the diner for sale on Main Street. Do you know if it’s still available?”

  “It is,” Stephanie said, and Sara detected the voices of children in the background, more than one of them talking to her with a touch of childish desperation. “I’ve had several people interested, but it’s not yet under contract. Would you like to see it?”