“Simon can deal with it until I find another place for you to sleep.” I piled the pillows behind her so she was propped up. “Try to stay elevated. Otherwise, all that stuff is going to drain into your throat. I’ll make you some soup.”
“Really, you don’t have to—”
“I’m making soup. End of discussion.”
With some cajoling, Simon got the old industrial stove to work. I sent Keith to the grocery store with a list of things I needed to make chicken and vegetable soup. When he returned, I invited him to stay for dinner.
“I appreciate it, but I can’t tonight,” he said. “I promised my mom I’d help her reupholster her couch.”
“Do you ever stop working?” Simon asked.
“Not really. See you guys tomorrow.”
Once Keith was gone, Simon came up behind me, framing my waist with his arms. “Alone at last,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “What do you want to do about it?”
“We’re not alone,” I said, stepping out of his grasp to cut celery. “Lily’s upstairs.”
I could hear the disappointment in his tone as he said, “Oh. What happened up there anyway?”
“She fell and knocked over a lamp. She’s sick, so I put her to bed.”
“Upstairs?”
“Hm-hmm.”
“In our bed?” he pressed.
“Where else?” I questioned. “The first floor is a disaster. She can’t stay down here.”
Simon huffed and moved away from me. “She shouldn’t be here at all, Max. This isn’t a homeless shelter. Shouldn’t she have moved on by now?”
I set a pot on the stove and threw the chopped celery in. “Are we arguing about this again? I told her she could stay as long as she needed.”
“What? Why?”
“Because she obviously needs our help.” The celery done, I moved on to the carrots. “Don’t scold me, Simon. I know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t know anything about this girl,” he countered, stepping closer to me. “She could be a grifter, running a scam! She could be psychotic, planning to kill us in our sleep, and you’ve let her into our bed!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
His chest bumped my elbow as I scraped carrots into the pot from the cutting board. “We’ve always been a team, Max. We’ve always made decisions together. All of a sudden, you’re pulling away. It doesn’t make sense. What do you know about Lily that I don’t?”
“Yes, we’re a team,” I shot back. “When you’re being reasonable. But for the past two days, you’ve been an ass!”
I rotated the dial to turn on the burner. Flames exploded from the stove, licking the side of the pot and grazing my bare skin.
This was hell. Fire burned everything around me. The walls were made of flame. The heat was so intense, my bones could feel it. I saw my mother, crawling across embers as she tried to reach me. Her hair was blackened, most of it gone. She coughed, and a cloud of ash came out. I opened my mouth to scream.
“Max. Max, look at me!”
A sharp slap across my cheek brought me back to my senses, and I found myself standing in the kitchen of the Lodge. Simon had shut off the stove. Everything was fine.
Sobbing, I collapsed against Simon’s chest.
7
In the morning, Lily and I rested next to each other on the old leather couch in the lobby, sharing a blanket, while Simon made eggs and bacon for breakfast. The miniature explosion last night had been due to a minor problem with the gas line. Though Simon fixed it, I couldn’t venture into the kitchen without seeing another fire in my head.
Lily looked no better than she had yesterday. To make matters worse, I had picked up the same phlegmy cough. Whatever she had, she’d passed to me. I didn’t care. It gave me an excuse not to work on my comic book or the Lodge construction. After my episode last night, all my energy and motivation were gone.
Lily rested her head on my shoulder. The contact was the only thing that made me feel better. Maybe I missed having a best girl friend. Without Sienna around, Lily was the closest substitute.
“Alrighty, breakfast is served,” Simon announced, too loudly, as he emerged from the kitchen, balancing plates like a circus performer. With his foot, he dragged a foldout table to the couch and set the meal in front of us. “Bacon, eggs, coffee, and leftover donuts from yesterday. You two should be feeling better in no time.”
Despite our recent spats, Simon hadn’t dropped the ball. After fixing the stove, he cleaned the room next to ours from top to bottom. Then he inspected every mattress in the Lodge, picked the best-looking one, and dragged it in for Lily. Once we were alone, he helped me take a bath. Then he held me all night long, even after I fell asleep. When I woke up, his arms were still around me.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Simon asked when neither one of us attempted to eat.
“A little,” I said.
“Not much,” answered Lily at the same time.
Simon used a plastic fork to make plates for us. “You need to eat something. Both of you. You can’t fight off whatever virus you have without some food in you. Here.” He handed Lily her meal. “It’ll make you feel better. I promise.”
Once he’d served both of us, he returned to the kitchen to clean up.
“I changed my mind about him,” Lily said. “He’s one of the good ones.”
“I know.” Poking one hand out of the blankets like a T-Rex, I started to feed myself. “He only gets grumpy when we don’t communicate well.”
Lily considered her plate. “Do you think he’ll be offended if I don’t eat this?”
“Probably.” The eggs were delicious. Simon had a knack for getting the whites crispy without drying out the yolk. “You should try to eat a little. Simon’s right about that.”
She flicked a piece of bacon back onto the serving plate. “There. Now he’ll think I’ve had some. Don’t tell him, okay?”
After breakfast and a heavy dose of decongestants, I felt good enough to help with the Lodge. While Keith and Simon continued gutting the first floor, I started clearing crap from the second. To make things easy for me, Simon placed a big plastic garbage can directly under the overhang of the second-floor corridor. All I had to do was chuck junk over the railing and into the can. When it was full, either Simon or Keith emptied it in the dumpster, and I started all over again.
The work itself was gross yet cathartic. Dust and dead bugs coated everything. I worked one room at a time, tossing old linens, moldy pillows, and broken furniture into the garbage below. Sometimes, I found lost items from past guests: a necklace with a gold Virgin Mary pendant, a tobacco pipe, and a dog-eared copy of Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut.
I gave Lily strict orders to stay in her room and rest. Thankfully, she took my advice. I heard nothing from her for the rest of the morning, which hopefully meant she was catching up on some much-needed sleep. Every so often, I got the feeling that someone was watching me. I suspected Lily, but when I glanced over my shoulder, no one was there.
The fifth or sixth time this happened, I caught a quick glimpse of an unfamiliar man as he strolled past the open door of the room I was working in. I quickly stood.
“Hey!” I called, heading out. “You can’t be in here—”
But the corridor was empty.
“Max?” Keith called from the first floor. “Did you need something?”
I peered over the railing to see Keith. “Did you see a man come down the stairs?”
Keith looked confused. “No, why?”
“I could’ve sworn…” I wiped sweat from my forehead. “Maybe I’m getting sicker. Where’s Simon?”
“He’s trying to squish down the stuff in the dumpster,” Keith replied. “It needs to be emptied soon. Come down. I’ll make you some tea. Simon said, you don’t like using the stove.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Keith.”
I kept my distance, standing on the opposite side of the kitchen as Keith heated the kettle. He made sure to thoroughly wash the con
struction dust from his arms and hands so the debris didn’t end up in my tea.
“I got an exciting call this morning,” Keith announced. By the way he bounced on his toes, he’d been waiting to share this information for a while. “Boyce officially invited me to tonight’s meeting with the Gentlemen’s Club.”
“Wow,” I intoned. “That’s great.”
“I know you think it’s kind of snobby,” he went on. “I guess it is, in a way. But Boyce is a good guy. I’m glad Simon agreed to tag along. It’ll be good for the two of you—”
“Simon’s going with you?”
Keith browsed our tea selection. “He didn’t tell you? We’re going together. Boyce invited both of us. The bar has a private room reserved just for the Gentlemen’s Club. Isn’t that cool? I hope Boyce brings his cigars. Did you know he rolls them himself? Who does that?” As Keith prattled on, I stewed in slow-burning anger.
Something about this whole Gentlemen’s Club thing rubbed me the wrong way. It was elitist and exclusionary, not just toward women, but toward the rest of the people in Silver Creek who didn’t have as much money or influence as Boyce and his friends.
Simon came in, taking off his heavy work gloves. “Okay, I shoved enough of it down to finish today’s work, but we’re going to have to empty it tomorrow—oh, hey, baby.” He smiled sweetly. “I didn’t realize you were in here. Do you want some lunch? I can make—”
“When were you going to tell me that you were going out with the Gentlemen’s Club tonight?” I demanded.
The kettle whistled. Keith removed it from the stove and backed out of the room. “I’ll leave you guys to it. Sorry,” he mouthed to Simon before disappearing.”
Simon calmly washed his hands and poured a cup of hot water into a clean mug. “I just told Keith I’d go with him ten minutes ago. I was going to tell you as soon as I saw you.”
“I shouldn’t have had to hear it from him. I should have heard it from my husband.”
“I don’t get why this is such a big deal.”
“You should have discussed it with me first.”
“Why?” he asked. “You didn’t discuss anything with me before you invited Lily to stay for as long as she wanted.”
Fury made me shake from head to toe. “That was different.”
“But this is somehow worse?” He abandoned his tea-making to face me. “The only reason I agreed to go was that Keith wouldn’t stop bothering me about it. I said yes to shut him up. Why are you acting like a jealous bitch?”
My mouth dropped. “What did you call me?”
“You heard me. Ever since you started hanging out with Lily, things have been weird between us. I’ve seen the way she looks at me. I know she doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true!”
“Whatever.” He dunked a tea bag into the hot water and handed me the mug. “Drink this. Maybe it’ll help with your bad mood.”
I knocked his hand aside. “Forget it. You always make it too weak. I’m going into town.”
“You’re sick,” he shouted after me as I stomped out of the kitchen.
“I’m fine!”
After twenty minutes walking up and down Main Street, determined to shop or find something fun to do without Simon, my runny nose and itchy throat encouraged me to seek shelter in the cafe. I struggled to open the door against the blustery wind. Thankfully, Cassie, the friendly barista, took pity on me and helped out. As I came inside, she dusted snowflakes off my shoulders and rubbed my arms to warm me up.
“Lovely out, isn’t it?” she said brightly. “I wouldn’t want to be stuck on the hiking trails right now.”
The snowfall had picked up since I’d left the Lodge. It whirled past the windows in great gusts, piling along the curbs and settling on stagnant windshields. My first thought was of Simon at the inn. Would the subpar heater keep him warm enough?
“No, I wouldn’t, either,” I told Cassie.
“Coffee?” she offered.
“Tea, please,” I said. “I’m fending off a cold.”
“You got it. Take that booth by the kitchen. It’s the warmest seat in the house.”
The table she pointed to seated four, but the hot air coming out of the nearby kitchen coaxed me into the booth. I shook off my coat my shoulders and hung it up to dry. Cassie dropped off the tea and a bowl of bright-orange soup.
“Roasted carrot, sweet potato, and turmeric,” she announced. “It’ll chase whatever’s got you down right out of there.”
“Thanks, Cassie.”
“No worries. By the way—” She leaned down and pointed across the cafe. “You’ve got a fan.”
I glanced toward the other side of the room. A little girl, maybe ten or twelve, sat at the counter, her feet dangling far above the floor. She had straight blond hair and familiar blue eyes, but I hadn’t seen her in town before. She whipped her head away and stared down at her book when I looked at her. A moment later, she snuck another peek at me.
“A fan of what?” I asked.
“I’ll let her tell you,” Cassie said with a wink.
The girl continued to spy on me throughout the hour. Eventually, I forgot she was there and focused on soothing my cold with the rich, creamy soup. I ate slowly, savoring the taste and the way the pureed sweet potatoes coated my throat with a protective layer.
I forgot about last night’s freak-out, the fire, and my spat with Simon. I let it all drain from my thoughts as if my brain were a large sieve, keeping only the pleasant aroma of coffee and fresh pastries inside. A Christmas song played softly overhead. Since it was a weekday, the cafe wasn’t as busy as it normally was. Every few minutes, someone would come in and order a coffee to go, but that was the only disruption from my calming lunch.
The soup finished, I wrapped my hands around my mug, closed my eyes, and inhaled the scent of the warm tea. I hadn’t specified what kind I wanted. Cassie automatically supplied chamomile and peppermint sweetened with honey, the best combination to fight a cold.
The worst way to fight a cold, or any illness for that matter, was opening your eyes to find a child standing silently two feet away from you, staring intently at your face. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Hello,” I said cautiously to the blond girl. “Can I help you?”
She had a yellowing bruise along her cheekbone. “Are you Maxine Finch?”
“Yes, why?”
The girl drew something from behind her back. My comic book, Rebel Queen, Volume One. She pointed to my name on the front cover. “This Maxine Finch?”
I lifted my chin. “You betcha.”
“Wow.” The little girl hugged the comic book to her chest and gazed at me with sparkling eyes. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe it’s you! Can I hug you?”
“Well, I’m getting sick, so I don’t know if you want to, but—oh!”
She threw her arms around my neck anyway and gave me a hard squeeze. She lingered a moment too long before pulling away. “Sorry, but I can’t believe it’s you.”
“You said that already,” I said, smiling.
She blushed.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Bubbles,” she replied. “Well, that’s not my real name, but it’s what everyone calls me because when I was two, I drank from a bottle of bubbles and sneezed them out through my nose.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing, and Bubbles smirked, pleased by my amusement. I wiped my streaming eyes on a spare napkin. “Wow, that is some nickname. How did you find Rebel Queen?”
“In the library,” Bubbles answered. “There’s barely ever new comic books there. We get hand-me-downs from other places, but I saw RQ in there and knew I had to read it.”
“RQ?”
“It’s what your fans call the series,” she explained. “Didn’t you know that already?”
“I’ve never met any fans.”
Her mouth dropped. “You’re kidding. Why not?”
“I didn’t do any press tour
s,” I said. “Rebel Queen—RQ was a bit of a sleeper hit, popular enough for my agent to want me to keep writing. Not popular enough for them to send me to conventions or anything like that.”
Bubbles bounced on her toes. “Wait, wait, wait. Did I hear that right? You’re writing more!”
“Um, well—”
“Because the cliffhanger in volume two is driving me crazy!” Without my invitation, she slid into the booth and placed the comic book between us. The Queen stared up at me with bold eyes. “What’s the Queen going to do now that her lover knows her secret? Is she going to kill him? She can’t kill him, right? She loves him!”
I remembered some of the panels I’d drawn in volume two. They weren’t intended for Bubbles’s demographic. “Aren’t you a little young to be reading my stuff?”
“I’m really mature for my age,” she replied. “I get the themes and everything. Especially the big ones.”
I grinned. “Really? What are the big themes?”
“Not being afraid to be yourself even when everyone might hate you,” she said automatically. “Refusing to hide even though you’re different than everyone else. Feeling obligated to stick around for your blood family when they don’t support or love you. Finding a family in other people who really matter.”
I was speechless. How old was this kid again?
“I guess the Queen is still learning those things,” Bubbles went on. “Otherwise, she would have told her lover the secret. She wouldn’t have let him find out on his own. She’s ashamed of herself, don’t you think?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes, I would say so.”
Bubbles drummed her fingers on the table and gazed into the distance. “I get that. It’s hard to feel like you don’t belong where you grew up. What do you think is going to happen to her?” Her eyes brightened. “Wait, you’re the writer! You know what’s going to happen to her! Can you tell me? Oh, please tell me! Please, please, please!”
“Whoa, easy,” I said. “I haven’t written volume three yet.”
“Why not?” she demanded harshly. “It’s been three years since volume two came out!”
The Haunting of Silver Creek Lodge Page 8