When nostalgia threatened, she headed for the bar. A glass of something tipped over, drenching the table next to her, but she pretended not to notice and kept going. Only a few stools were taken. She sat, picked up a laminated, handwritten menu and tried to find something she could swallow around the lump in her throat.
A small woman, with loose ringlets of gray hair flopping about her head, set a glass of water in front of Mel. “Be right with you.” Despite the sandpaper voice, her smile was warm and familiar.
The young cook tossed something in a pot on the large stove. Big puffs of steam rose high above his head and disappeared. Mel could smell garlic and lemon.
She raised the glass. Before the first drop made it in her mouth, huge arms wrapped around her from behind and lifted her from the stool. The water went flying. Her feet dangled above the floor. The arms squeezed so tight she couldn’t breath. Voices blended together and seemed distant, like she was in a cave. She rapped on a rock-hard muscle until the arms went slack. Suddenly, they loosened, and air rushed into her lungs.
“Good God, I’ve missed you.” A big pair of lips kissed her forehead.
Mel stumbled and grabbed hold of a large forearm to keep from falling. Soft brown eyes held a smile nearly as big as the one stretching across Lyle Pancini’s wide face.
“I didn’t think you’d ever come home.” He draped an arm across her shoulders.
She let out a shaky laugh. “Lyle, you’re such a dork.” She gave him a hug. Lyle stood over six feet, and brown hair framed his round face and warm eyes. The easy, simple air about him was deceptive. Anna had told her the CIA or some agency was trying to recruit him to hunt down cyber-hackers.
“Lyle.” A voice snapped from the other side of the counter, and Mel realized the woman with gray hair was Lyle’s mother. “How many times have I told you to be more careful? You knocked the wind clean out of her.”
“Sorry,” Lyle said. He caught the towel Mrs. Pancini tossed over the counter and mopped up the spilled water.
“Finally give up on those prissy city boys?” He took the next stool.
“Nah, I’m a sucker for convertibles and briefcases.” She forced a smile. “Did you finally give up on older women?”
Lyle’s face turned red. “You were the only one I picked up,” he whispered.
“Thanks for that.” When his cheeks drooped, she patted his hand. “Lyle, you need a woman who’s sweet and wonderful and warm. That’s not me, and you know it. How many times did you find me walking home in the middle of the night?”
“I don’t remember.” One large finger drew circles on the red counter.
“Enough to prove I’m a bad bet.”
Lyle’s family lived at the end of Pine Street. Four driveways branched off the two-mile gravel road, including Mel’s. Lyle had worked the late shift stocking groceries since he was fourteen, so he’d been the one to find her walking home in the middle of the night when Mick left her behind. At first, she didn’t know what to say. The second time, she made up a story about a secret boyfriend who lived in the city and drank too much. It was easier than explaining about Mick.
“I’ve got to go,” Lyle said. He got to his feet and leaned close to her ear. “Stay away from those city boys.”
“I’ll try.”
After Lyle left, she felt alone and vulnerable, but if she left so soon, she’d cause even more speculation than she had coming in. She wanted to order, but she couldn’t focus on the menu. A few minutes later, Mrs. Pancini put a large ceramic bowl in front of her, filled with rice and so many other ingredients she couldn’t begin to name them all.
“Dirty Rice,” Mrs. Pancini said.
“I didn’t order anything.”
“You’ll like this. I’m still testing my recipe so it’s free tonight, provided you tell me what you think of it. Since Dirty Rice sounds like something I peeled up from the floor, I’m sure it’ll be a favorite by the end of the week.”
Mel looked at the bowl. “It looks good, but I’m not sure I’m up for eating.”
“Take it home.” Mrs. Pancini covered the bowl with tinfoil and put it in a plastic bag.
“I will. Thanks.”
Mrs. Pancini gave her a long look and leaned against the counter. “My Lyle helped me beat the agoraphobia so I could get a job. He’s got good instincts. He’s always liked you, so no matter what they say, I know you ain’t all bad. Now take my advice and scram. The softball team got skunked, so everyone’s going to be a mite crabby tonight.”
A commotion at the front door made them both turn. Mick stood in the lobby. Greetings were shouted from various tables, but Mick just stood there, grinning like a cat. He’d probably make her life hell until she gave in or left. That had worked before, but she’d been a kid. Well, she’d grown up. He would soon discover she could play his game and win.
She dropped a ten on the counter, picked up the bag, and walked out without acknowledging him.
Chapter Six
Jordan leaned against the counter at Station 2 and downed his third cup of coffee. His shift didn’t start until seven, but Mark Russell needed to leave early. Since Russell covered for him when he’d gotten a flat on the way in last week, Jordan owed him.
“Did you hear about the Wellman Warehouse?” Russell asked as he put on his coat.
“No.” Jordan stopped work on the remodel to crash for a couple hours before coming in. “Where is it?”
“Near Olympia. Warehouse got torched around midnight, took an acre of forest with it.” Russell opened the heavy exit door. “Pierce and King Counties both sent a task force. One of the photographers posted pictures this morning. I left ’em on the computer for you guys to see. Looks like arson since the warehouse was lit up like the Fourth of July. We sure miss the good ones. Thanks for covering for me.” And he was gone.
Jordan opened the pictures of explosions so spectacular they made the fire engines nearby look like toys. Arson at a warehouse was different than arson at an apartment building, but it still made his blood run cold. Arson investigation had been his first step in fire fighting, but it hadn’t been enough. Dealing with the aftermath of fires hadn’t put his personal demons to rest any more than educating the public had. No, he needed to be on the front line to see the flames die. And he wanted to be the one to kill them.
“Holy shit,” said Middleton, who’d come up behind him. “Look at those colors. They got a good one. You hear how many rigs got called out?”
“Not yet. What are you doing here this early?” It was just after six.
“Neighbor’s dog wouldn’t stop howling. I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t shoot the damn thing since I gave it to them, so I might as well get the workout over with.” He pointed to a column of roiling flame on the computer screen. “That’s what this business is supposed to be about. Just once, I want to be part of the big one. I want to pull someone out of a burning building or beat back a fifty-foot wall of flames. What do we get? Dumpster fires and illegal burns. Woo-hoo.” Middleton twirled his finger in the air.
****
At nine forty-five, Mel stopped in front of Last Chance. Sara lumbered down the sidewalk, her full arms topped with a bakery box that smelled like heaven.
“Tell me you’re not going to eat this in front of me.” Mel took the boxes so Sara could unlock the door.
Sara laughed, not her old gut-busting laugh, but it was better than seeing her cry. “It’s breakfast. The other boxes need to go in back.”
“Breakfast for how many?”
“Us.” Sara put the boxes away and joined Mel up front. “I always crave donuts when I’m pissed off. I’m going to gain thirty pounds before this divorce is final.” Sara selected a maple-glazed donut.
“That makes two of us,” Mel said and took a bite of a delicious blueberry scone. Then she took an envelope from her purse. “This should pay off my debt.”
Sara took the envelope, looked inside. “What’s this for?”
“Clothes.” She spread her a
rms. “Look at me. I’m still wearing the clothes you picked out yesterday. They’re all I have, except for the Broncos shirt, which I intend to burn. Help me pick out more. Please?” She wasn’t holding her breath waiting for the insurance to reimburse her, so she’d taken a draw on her Visa. Sara would never accept charity, and Mel needed more clothes.
“I don’t have professional clothes, just hiking basics.”
“That’s enough for now.” She sat on a stool and watched Sara turn on the computer. “I’ll take Carley to Seattle in a few weeks to help me with work clothes, if that’s okay.”
Sara chuckled. “She’d love it, but her definition of style is skewed to the teen look.”
“I’ll risk it.” As she watched, a crazy idea hit her, one that might get the locals to accept her and help Sara at the same time. “Sara, do you have someone to help you?”
“Not anymore.” Sara took a container of milk from a small fridge under the counter and a bottle of chocolate syrup. “Vanessa was my regular, but she left last month. Anna helps out if I need her, and so does Alex, but they’re so busy I don’t like to call them.” She poured milk into a metal cup and turned on the big, silver machine. Steam shot out, heating the milk.
“Can I help?”
“Don’t you have a job?” Sara handed a cup to Mel, sat on the next stool, and sipped on her drink.
“Thanks. Yes, my job will take a lot of time, but I won’t let it be my life. I wasn’t here when you were starting out, but I’m here now. Let me help.”
The easy mood vanished. “I don’t need you or anyone else feeling sorry for me.”
“I’m not feeling sorry for you.” Mel hesitated. “Okay, maybe a little, but only because Carl is a complete ass, and he’s making your life difficult. I really want to help. I need to.”
“What you need is a life.” Sara took a long drink.
“What I need is a purpose.”
“You have one. You’re opening a new business.”
“I’m worried the branch office will fail if people don’t trust me. I hoped the rumors would die down, maybe disappear, but they haven’t. If I work here, it will help both of us.”
Sara gave her a long look and said nothing.
“It can’t hurt.”
“Yes, it can.” Sara shook her head. “I can’t afford to have you work here.”
Melanie set her drink down slowly, trying hard to concentrate on the cup to hide her disappointment. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. If business is already slow, my being here will only make it worse. You don’t need more problems.” She got up.
Sara pulled her back onto the stool. “Shut up, you ninny. I didn’t mean I didn’t want you here. I meant I can’t afford to pay you. Everything I have is tied up in the store.”
Mel let out a breath. “I’ll work for free.”
“No, you won’t. I got into this financial mess. I’ll find my way out.”
“Spoken like a true Quinn. When do I start?”
“I’m not going to have you work here and not pay you, and I can’t afford to pay you.”
“Who said I only work for money? I want something more important.”
Sara set her drink on the counter. “What?”
“Respect.”
“Meaning?”
“Opening the branch office is going to be a disaster if everyone avoids the place because of me. I can’t stand on the corner and say…” She threw her arms wide, “Hey, everyone, trust me and give me your business and—boom—have a bunch of customers.”
Sara snorted. “If only it was that easy.”
“Exactly. I need to get involved in Valley life so people start accepting me without realizing it, before Schuster opens. When they see me here, they’ll realize you trust me. That confidence will bleed over to my business. If people don’t come in because I’m here, you can fire me. No tears, no questions. Promise.” She held up two fingers.
Sara gave her a penetrating look. “People can be really rude, but you’d have to smile anyway, even if you want to strangle them. You’d have to keep smiling until they are out the door and around the block.”
Mel hesitated. “Around the block? Why so long?”
“In case they come back.”
“Do they often leave and come back?”
“Hardly ever.” Sara swirled the contents of her mug.
“And I still have to smile?”
“Absolutely.”
She lifted the corners of her mouth.
“Fake smiles don’t count.”
“Damn.”
Sara stared at her for a long moment. The corner of her mouth twitched, her lips quivered, and then they were rocking on their stools, laughing like they had when Alex got his head stuck in the Thanksgiving Day turkey.
****
“When do you start at your new office?” Sara asked as they came out of the back room. When they’d finished going over the opening and closing procedures, Sara made a chart for Mel to log her hours, insisting she would pay her someday. Mel just smiled and dropped the chart into one of the crammed file drawers on her way out of the office.
“I start Monday, but I stopped by this morning to work on replacing the files. The door was locked, and I don’t have a key. Or a computer. So, I can spend the next three days obsessing about the Snake Charmer, go crazy trying to figure where to start on fixing up the cabin, or keep busy helping you.” Mel smiled. “I choose you.”
“Did you say Snake Charmer?” Sara’s lip curled.
She chuckled. “Yes. My new partner. His real name is Nicholas Barnett.”
“Why do they call him that?”
“He talked the board of directors into giving him this job. No one thought a newbie could do it, but he did. A few of the directors have nicknames, Python, Cobra, various other snakes. Their conference room is referred to as the Snake Pit.”
“Fun place.” Sara looked disgusted and Mel laughed.
“Corporate America at its best.”
Sara unlocked the register. “You’re better off here, and I’d love to have you tomorrow. I’m closed Sunday and Monday.”
“Then my Saturday is yours.” Mel stopped to look at the water bottles and selected a navy blue one to add to her tab. “If you’re closed Sunday, don’t you miss the weekend traffic coming back over Snoqualmie Pass?”
“No. Most people just hit the north exit and skip downtown entirely.”
“I saw the fast food chains and gas stations.” If tourists only saw that part of Cedar Valley, no wonder business was slow.
“Alex wants me to move to the empty storefront by Taco Bell. He thinks it would help sales.” Sara gave her a pained look. “Can you imagine any place with less atmosphere than a square box next to the freeway? It’d be cheaper, but I can’t do it.”
“I don’t blame you. This place is perfect.”
“Perfect isn’t bringing in the people.” The phone rang. Sara answered it, and the color drained from her face. She hung up and looked around in desperation.
“It’s Eric,” she said, referring to her eight-year-old. “He might have a broken arm. I need to meet the ambulance at the school.”
“Go.”
“But we haven’t finished training.”
“I can handle it.” Mel shoved Sara’s purse into her hand and turned her toward the door. “Call and let me know how he is. Now go. He needs you.”
“Thanks.” Sara ran out the door.
A few minutes later, the mail arrived. The postal worker dropped the stack on the counter, gave her a nod, and left. The top envelope had FINAL NOTICE stamped in red. Mel flipped through the stack. Mostly bills, two from collection agencies. Sara was in big trouble. She hadn’t been here to help her sister get started, but she was here now, and she’d do anything she could to keep Sara from losing her store.
The door opened, and a man in his late twenties walked in. A bushy beard hid most of his face and was at odds with his short-cropped hair. She slid the mail into a drawer beneath th
e register and smiled.
“Was that Sara leaving?” he asked in a dry voice.
“Yes, there was an emergency. Can I help you?”
“Hope so. Name’s William Everett. Everyone calls me Willy. I run a tour company.” He sat on a stool at the counter. “You’re new in town?”
“No, but I’ve been away for a while. Sara’s my sister.”
“Should have guessed. You look alike.”
“Can I get you something? How about an avalanche beacon?” The only avalanche beacon she’d ever seen was in Sara’s glass display case in the hiking section. She wracked her brain trying to remember the other big-ticket items she’d seen.
“I’ve got one. You aren’t selling those, are you?” He gestured at the cinnamon roll inside the open box of pastries.
“No, but you can have one.” She held up the box, let him take one.
As he ate, he told her stories of his close calls on the local trails. At first she let him ramble, figuring he might spend more the longer he stayed. Then she started remembering the places he described, the ravine with the waterfall, the hidden lake that was popular for Friday night parties. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about them. Especially since the waterfall had always been the primary location for one of her favorite fantasies involving Jordan, a hot day and lots of water. A sudden surge of pleasure swept over her, only partly from knowing she could go to the waterfall or any of the other locations if she wanted to.
Willy got to his feet. “If you can help me put together some odds and ends, I’ll be on my way.”
“Of course. Do you want to start with a GPS? Or maybe a set of trekking poles?”
“Nah, I just need the basics for a day hike. Times three.” He laughed at her expression. “On my first hike last fall, I had clients forget gloves, sunglasses, food, and water. I even had one guy forget his socks. I ended up hungry, thirsty, and with blisters on both feet because I gave away my supplies. Now I bring extras. It’s a hassle hauling them to the trailhead, but it’s worth it.”
Through The Window Page 6