Alex shook her head.
Rosalie raised her eyebrows in objection. “Clearly, you haven’t been having dinner with the right girls.”
Alex shrugged. “I’m pretty happy with this one,” she said. “I think I’ll stick with her.”
Rosalie leaned forward, almost close enough to kiss Alex.
“Good.”
Chapter Seventeen
Check-in
What are we gonna do if it rains?” Rosalie asked Alex. They were in bed together in Rosalie’s room, and Rosalie’s voice was shriveled with worry.
“We’ll have the party in the lobby.”
“But what if there’s too many people?”
“Yesterday, you were worried no one would come,” Alex said, smirking as she ran her hand down Rosalie’s arm to her waist, resting it there.
“I know.”
“What’s your ideal size crowd for this thing? I’m not clear.”
Rosalie pouted in the not-serious way she did when Alex teased her for worrying about something she couldn’t control.
Alex drew Rosalie closer, kissing the top of her head, squeezing extra hard, as though to wring out all the worry.
“Shelley may not know accounting or what feminism really means, but she knows people and she knows this town. People will come.”
Rosalie breathed into the sun-bronzed skin of Alex’s chest. “I hope so.”
“They will,” Alex said. “If only to get a look at the new town lesbian.”
Rosalie groaned into Alex’s chest. In the months since she’d sold the Cocheta property and come out to Shelley, she’d noticed a few people looking at her longer than usual. But no one said anything hurtful, and no one leered or glared like she’d worried they would. The looks she got now weren’t much different from the ones she’d gotten when she first moved to town.
“If it rains, we can put the construction canopy over the grill and people will sit under the awning and in the lobby. It’ll be fine.”
Rosalie exhaled, letting Alex coax her worry out of her.
“And afterward, we’ll come back here and snuggle,” Alex added.
“Naked?”
“God willing.”
Rosalie let out a quiet chuckle that shook her shoulders and brought her even tighter against Alex. “Okay.”
The next morning was sunny and bright, the air seeming lighter than its usual choking dryness. Rosalie did her opening routine, reviewing the comings and goings of guests from the day before, checking incoming reservations, making note of which rooms were ready for cleaning. She looked over the breakfast spread on the counter Alex had built near the watercooler as she set to work on a module of her current hotel management course. She distracted herself long enough with that to forget she was hosting a barbecue that night. Shelley had suggested it as a way to bring the town together in celebration of the groundbreaking at the Cocheta property. It was an eve of change for Ashhawk, one that Rosalie hoped would be positive and endear her to a few townsfolk.
Shelley had put the barbecue together, getting deals on meat from the local market, ordering a few kegs and some cases of wine, even hiring a band to play. Alex suggested getting a fire pit to place in the middle of the cleared parking lot.
“Just like Corte del Cuervo.” Rosalie had grinned.
Alex turned to her and winked, that sly, fleeting wink that still made Rosalie’s stomach flutter.
They’d been back to Malcolm’s a few times for more private weekends together, during which they barely left their room, aside from meals, sunsets, and a private wine tasting with Malcolm and Logan. Rosalie was careful not to drink too much. It was one of her favorite places in the world, made even more dear by Alex’s presence.
But these days, Hearth wasn’t so bad, either. Shelley had stepped into her role of director of hospitality such that Rosalie, with her newly gleaned knowledge of hotel management, only had to worry about the business end of the operation, while Shelley handled housekeeping and customer service. With Alex heading up maintenance, Susan covering the desk half the time, and a handful of hourly hires for housekeeping and the occasional maintenance job Alex couldn’t do alone, the hotel was operating smoothly and on a balanced budget. They’d even booked up for the first time in years recently. It was almost unrecognizable from the place Rosalie had arrived at shortly after Gran’s death.
The party was supposed to start at six o’clock, and by quarter til, Rosalie was so worried Alex had to take her into her room and run her hands up and down Rosalie’s arms and back. Right as Rosalie was preparing to say something to protest Alex’s stubborn certainty the party would be a hit, they heard a car door shut outside.
Rosalie pulled back from Alex’s embrace, a hopeful expression on her face.
She heard voices outside, then someone asking, “Where’s Miss Rosalie?”
Alex grinned.
“Miss Rosalie,” Rosalie mocked. “That makes me feel like a stuffy church lady.”
“It’s a respect thing,” Alex said, leaning forward to kiss Rosalie on the forehead before giving her a gentle swat on the butt. “You better get out there, babe.”
Rosalie opened the door, smiling as she greeted Bobby and a handful of his friends who’d shown up with an extra case of beer.
“’Eyyy, there she is,” Bobby said, loping toward Rosalie. “The hostess with the mostest.” He gave her a wide, goofy smile and held out some potato salad.
“Hey, Bobby,” Rosalie greeted. She’d grown to like Bobby in certain situations. He wasn’t the controlling jerk she’d imagined, though he wasn’t the prime cut she would have picked for Shelley if she’d been given a chance, either. But he was benign, and he made Shelley happy.
“Me and my boys are stoked for tomorrow,” Bobby said, mashing a fist into the open palm of his other hand. “Making money, getting paid.” He grinned.
A few dozen local men had been hired to help with the construction, improving the town’s employment rate even before the warehouse was completed.
As Bobby spoke, another car parked on the street, this time with a family Rosalie had seen around town getting out and making their way toward the parking lot. Rosalie smiled and waved, and the kids pointed to the pool, asking if they could dip their feet in.
Slowly, the parking lot filled with people drinking, eating, and buzzing with excitement about the construction starting in the morning. By the time the sun went down and Alex lit the bonfire and the band started up, Rosalie was glowing with the success.
People had come to her party. And it hadn’t been because they wanted to gawk at the town lesbians or take the free food or criticize the new sign or patio furniture or retouched exterior. They’d come because Rosalie had thrown a party for the community, and they’d accepted her as part of it.
Rosalie felt tipsy with joy as she was drawn into conversation with dozens of people she’d only seen in passing until now. Local business owners wanted to pick her brain, women wanted to know who did her hair and nails (Shelley, of course), and kids wanted to ask if they could play in the pool even if they weren’t staying there.
The night spun on, Rosalie feeling warm even as the sun descended and left them with only the orange glow of the bonfire, the new sign above, and the exterior lights. Shelley was giddy with the party’s success, cornering Rosalie at one point, rolling out her plan for a series of movie nights and community events Hearth could host over the coming months.
Gradually, people left, the families with young kids, then the older couples, then the young folks, until it was just a handful of Shelley and Bobby’s friends sitting in the lobby around the fireplace, talking in warm voices as they finished cups of beer and soda. As Rosalie emerged from the back room where she had placed the leftover drinks, she saw Shelley and Bobby nestled together on the couch, surrounded by friends.
Rosalie felt Alex’s hand on her waist before she felt her breath near her ear. She smiled and turned her head just enough to plant a kiss on Alex’s cheek. Alex returne
d the gesture as she brought her body flush with Rosalie’s, pressing the invisible layers of barbecue smoke on their clothes together as they observed the scene before them. Bobby had his arm around Shelley, his hand soft on her shoulder.
“They’re sweet together,” Rosalie said, quiet so only Alex could hear.
Alex said nothing, which Rosalie understood as a silent agreement.
Seeing her domain so in harmony with the town, Rosalie dared to hope everything would fall into place for the people she cared about.
“Do you think he’ll propose?”
“Yeah,” Alex said. “Once he’s got a little money. He’s crazy in love with her.”
Rosalie nodded, glad Alex had faith in Bobby.
“I want her to be happy,” Rosalie said.
Alex nodded and pressed her lips into Rosalie’s hair. “You ’bout ready for bed?”
Rosalie looked at her watch and saw it was well past midnight.
“Everything’s brought in,” Alex said.
Rosalie nodded and called out to Shelley and Bobby that they were turning in and to make sure the fire was out before they left. They gave mellow, cheerful waves as Rosalie and Alex turned toward the door, Alex’s arm around Rosalie’s waist.
For the first time since arriving in Ashhawk, not even a little part of Rosalie wanted Alex to move her arm.
****
Rosalie woke the next morning with a calm stillness that felt foreign to her. Alex was missing from her bed, but Rosalie didn’t panic. Sometimes, Alex got up to start projects early so she wouldn’t have to work during the hottest part of the day. Rosalie looked at the ceiling for a few minutes, letting the most pleasant parts of the previous night play out on the smooth, now asbestos-free ceiling. She smiled, feeling her body warm with happiness.
Everything was settled, save for the dirt being turned and moved across town as construction began. She looked around, wondering what she ought to do that day. During one of their weekly business meetings that now occurred fully clothed because they included Shelley, Alex had gently urged Rosalie to schedule regular days off, and today was one of those days. Rosalie didn’t know what to do with herself yet, other than perhaps read and paint her nails and go for a swim.
As she sat up and looked around the room, her gaze fell on the box of Gran’s ashes. With a gut certainty that was still new but unmistakable to her, she knew what she wanted to do.
After she showered and dressed and fed Smoke, she opened her door and was surprised to find Alex sitting in one of the new chairs beside her doorway, cup of coffee in hand.
“G’morning, beautiful.” Alex grinned up at her.
Rosalie felt a smile overtake her as Alex stood and extended the cup toward Rosalie.
“Thanks.” Rosalie took it, savoring the aroma.
Alex slid her hand into her back pocket. “It’s your day off.”
“Yeah.”
“Anything you want to do?”
Rosalie took a sip of coffee. “Yeah, actually.” She handed her coffee back to Alex and stepped inside to retrieve the box of Gran’s ashes, holding them in front of her rather than saying anything.
Alex pursed her lips and nodded, her expression more somber. “Where do you want to do it?”
“I don’t know,” Rosalie said, frowning. “I thought about doing it at the Cocheta property, but I kind of missed my opportunity.”
“Estelle wouldn’t want to lay under a big distribution center for all eternity anyway.”
“Maybe I should sprinkle them out back. She loved this place.” But even as she said it, Rosalie wasn’t sure.
Alex frowned in thought and nodded. “I have a place you might like. Hop in my truck.”
Rosalie glanced back at her room, then climbed into the cab of Alex’s truck and clung to the seat as it jostled out of the parking lot. Alex turned in the opposite direction of the Cocheta property and drove through the heart of town.
Rosalie took in the fading signs, the drooping roofs, the abandoned businesses. The semi-ghost town was still a sorry sight, and the early morning light made it even more eerie. Rosalie knew Gran had hated to see her town fall on such hard times.
But Rosalie also knew things would start to change soon. Not all at once; there would never be a morning when she woke and was greeted with a shiny, bustling town. There would always be a thin layer of dust and fatigue over Ashhawk. But slowly, signs would be replaced, buildings would be repainted, and business would pick up. A few more families would be able to pay their bills. Fewer things would be broken and sad. A few more people would have hope. Rosalie was happy for that.
Alex drove to the edge of town, not stopping as they headed into the vast, open desert. Rosalie settled into her seat, oddly content to be a passenger on a trip to a mystery destination.
Alex glanced down at the bench next to her. “Move closer.”
Rosalie pulled at the lap belt that was tucked into the groove of the seat. She quickly unbuckled and shifted into the center seat, feeling her side press into Alex’s. She buckled herself in and felt a flurry of warmth. She studied the side of Alex’s face for a moment before she took a deep breath and lay her head on Alex’s shoulder.
Alex lifted a hand off the steering wheel to caress the side of Rosalie’s face. Rosalie burrowed deeper into Alex’s side, the ashes in her lap heavier than their weight.
They drove for twenty minutes, listening to the faint sound of Alex’s radio crackling before Alex turned off the highway onto a barely distinguishable dirt road. Rosalie would have missed it even if she’d been looking for it. The tires bucked and the cab of the truck rocked, and Rosalie had to lift her head so she didn’t hit Alex in the jaw as they bounced through the dusty desert. They drove for five minutes before the road curved up and around a hill, climbing higher. After a few minutes, Alex slowed the truck, putting it in park. She turned off the ignition and gestured for Rosalie to follow her as she slid out of the cab.
Rosalie climbed out, eager to be on solid land. Alex took her by the hand, offering to hold the box of ashes as she led her up an incline of rock and dust, a few perilous steps around the side of a boulder, until they crested the hill. She helped pull Rosalie up, a calm determination on her face. Rosalie accepted the help, wishing she’d worn something other than sandals.
When Rosalie was securely standing at the top of the rock, Alex gestured out behind her. Rosalie turned and was met with the most majestic view she’d ever seen: the desert stretched out before her, wild and hearty and tinged with gold in the morning light. Rosalie could hear the murmurings of desert life—lizards and birds and insects going about their daily routines. In the distance, to the right, she could see a pueblo, a few tendrils of smoke curling up from the adobe buildings, their forms blending into the earth as though they could never be separated. In the distance to the left, she could see Ashhawk, so faded and small it was unremarkable.
As she took in the land before her, its ashen greens and golden browns and rusty yellows, she felt the urge to plant herself on that rock so she might hold on to the feeling of awe and peace she felt overwhelm her.
“I thought it might be a good place,” Alex said quietly, as though speaking too loud could disturb the desert stretching out in front of them.
Rosalie nodded, turning her head to take in the vast land. She could turn in a complete circle and only see a few signs of human presence. It was beautiful.
After a few minutes, Rosalie decided to sit. Here in the morning, time was elongated. Hearth was in Shelley’s capable hands, and there was nothing she needed to do more than sit with Alex and admire the view. She sat down, tugging Alex with her, and hung her legs off the edge of the rock. It was a steep drop-off—not a complete ninety-degree angle, but it was still unsettling. But sitting next to Alex was anchor enough for her.
Rosalie took in the view, breathing in the hearty peace of the desert. She felt something flow through her body, something good and calm and nourishing. She breathed it in, wishing she co
uld hold the feeling forever.
Marveling at it, Rosalie recognized what it was: gratitude. A sense of overwhelming awe for everything life had given her. She had a home, she had a loving partner, she had ambition, and she had hope.
She had finally learned what Gran had wanted to teach her. Gran’s first lesson to her had been generosity; her final lesson had been gratitude. Rosalie felt her chest swell with it.
She closed her eyes and thought about Ashhawk. She thought of its sad, down-on-their-luck residents and her hope the warehouse would help them. She hoped Gran would approve of her choice.
As though providing an answer, she felt a gentle breeze on her face. She wondered if Alex had turned her head to look at her and she was simply feeling her breath, but it wasn’t as warm as Alex would have been. There was something present there with her, and Rosalie bent her ear to it. Whether it was a spirit or angel or simply a thought borne of Rosalie’s own heart didn’t matter. Rosalie opened her eyes.
She took a breath, feeling the decision settle in her belly. It was good and right and warm. She took a few moments for herself before she said, “Gran wants to stay here.”
“Yeah?” Alex said, the same peace Rosalie felt echoing in her voice.
“Yeah.”
Alex held the box out toward Rosalie, and Rosalie took it.
For the first time, Rosalie opened the box. She wasn’t sure what she would find, but it certainly wasn’t a neat plastic bag filled with gray lumps.
The ashes weren’t fine and silty like she’d expected. They were coarse in places, a few chunks of bone discernible through the bag. The ashes clumped together like the clay earth all around them.
Hesitantly, Rosalie opened the bag, taking it out of the box. She dipped her hand in the ashes, feeling the grit against her skin, lodging under her nails. She took a handful and held it out over the ledge. She let it fall like sand, a few flecks sticking to her shins and feet as they fell. She sprinkled handful after handful with growing certainty that this was what Gran would have wanted.
Hearts Inn Page 28