by Nora Roberts
around once you move in. But you're late with the rent. I'll take it out of your pay. No excuses. I've already heard them all."
"If you can cash my paycheck, I'll give you the first week now.
"I guess we can work it that way. Another thing, I could use some help with the baking now and again. May tap you for that, have you give me a hand. I use my own kitchen for the baked goods."
"I can do that."
"I'll work it into the schedule. Well, let's get back before Beck poisons somebody.
WITH THE REST of her pay and a portion of her tip money, Reece headed to the mercantile. Basics, she reminded herselt. Essentials and no more. This wasn't Newberry Street and she couldn't afford indulgences.
But God, it was a kick to be going shopping for more than new socks or a pair of jeans. The idea of it lightened her steps until she could actually feel good, healthy color in her cheeks.
She breezed in with a quick jingle of the bell that hung over the door. There were other shoppers, and some she recognized from the diner. Steak san, extra onions for the man in the plaid jacket in the hardware section. The woman and the little boy browsing in dry goods—fried chicken for him, Cobb salad for her.
She made a group of four as campers, loading up on supplies they had stacked in one of the rolling grocery carts.
She lifted a hand at Mac Drubber, and found a comfort in his acknowledging nod. It was nice to recognize and be recognized. All so casual and normal. And here she was looking at packaged sheet sets. She rejected the plain white immediately. Too reminiscent of hospitals. Maybe the pale blue, with its pattern of tiny violets, and the dark blue blanket. And for towels the buttery yellow for some sunshine in the bath.
She took the first haul to the counter.
"Got yourselt a place, did you?"
"Yes. The apartment over Joanie's," she told Mac.
"That's fine. You want me to start an account for you?"
In her current mood it was tempting. She could get everything she needed, and a few things she only wanted, and pay for it later. But that would be breaking the hard-and-fast rule she'd lived by for more than eight months.
"That's all right. It's payday. I just need to get a few things lor the kitchen, and I'm set for now."
She did the math in her head as she scanned, debated, deleted or selected what was absolutely necessary over what could be done without. A good cast-iron skillet, a decent pot. She couldn't afford the kind of cookware she'd once owned, or good knives, but she could make do.
Even as she calculated, adjusted her list, she glanced up and over each time the little bell jingled.
So she saw Brody come in. Same battered leather jacket, she noted, same down-at-the-heels boots. He looked like he might have shaved in the last couple of days. But that look in his eyes, something that said he'd seen it all already and didn't miss it, was still there as his gaze passed over her before he headed to the grocery section.
Thankfully, she'd already hit that area for what she considered pantry and refrigerator staples.
She pushed her cart to the counter. "That should do it, Mr. Drubber."
"I'll ring you up. No charge on the teakettle. It's a housewarming gift."
"Oh, you don't have to do that."
"My store, my rules." He wagged a finger at her. "Be a minute here, Brody."
"No problem." Brody set a quart of milk, a box of cornflakes and a pound of coffee on the counter. Nodded to Reece. "How's it going?"
"Fine, thanks."
"Reece is moving into the apartment over Joanie's."
"That so?"
"I get this rung and boxed, you give her a hand hauling it over there. Brody."
"Oh. no. No, that's okay. I can manage."
"You can't cart all this stuff on your own." Mac insisted. "Got your car outside, don't you, Brody?"
There was a ghost of a smile around his mouth as if he found the whole situation amusing. "Sure."
"Heading on down to Joanie's for dinner anyway, right?"
"That's the plan."
"See that, no trouble at all. This cash or charge, honey?"
""Cash. It's cash." And, deducting the teakettle, nearly to the dollar of what she'd brought with her.
"Just put my stuff on my account. Mac." Brody stacked his purchases on top of one of the boxes Mac had already packed, hefted it. Before the rest was finished. Brody was back for box number two.
Trapped. Reece lifted the last one. "Thanks, Mr. Drubber."
"You enjoy your new place." He called out as she followed Brody to the door.
"You don't have to do this. Seriously," she began the minute they were outside. "He put you on the spot."
"Yeah, he did." Brody loaded the second box into the bed of a black Yukon, then turned and reached for the one Reece carried. She wrapped her arms more tightly around it.
"I said you didn't have to do this. I can do it myself."
"No, I don't, and no, you can't. So let's do ourselves a favor and get it done while we're young." He simply yanked the box out of her arms, loaded it. "Get in."
"I don't want—"
"You're being an idiot. I've got your stuff," he continued as he rounded the hood. "You can get in and ride with it, or you can walk."
She'd have preferred the second option, but that would make her a moron as well as an idiot. She got in, gave the door an irritated slam shut. And not caring, particularly, about his comfort, opened the window so she didn't feel closed in.
He said nothing, and since the radio was blasting out Red Hot Chili Peppers, she didn't have to pretend to make polite conversation on the short drive.
He parked on the street, then got out to drag a box out one side of the car while she pulled one from the other. " The entrance is around back." Her voice was clipped, surprising her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been seriously annoyed with anyone other than herself.
She had to lengthen her stride so she didn't trail behind him. and though she breezed by him on the stairs, she tumbled when she had to prop the box against the wall in order to deal with the key.
Brody simply shifted the box he held to one arm, took the key, unlocked the door.
A fresh wave of resentment washed through her. This was her place-now. She should be able to invite in whom she liked, and keep out whom she didn't. And here he was striding across the floor to dump her box of precious new possessions on the counter.
Then he was striding out again, without one comment. On a huff of breath, Reece set her box down. She dashed to the door and out, hoping to catch him and take the last load herself.
Rut he was already starting back.
"I'll take it from here." The breeze blew her hair across her face. She gave it an annoyed swipe back. "Thanks."
"I've got it. What the hell's in here? Bricks?"
"It's probably the cast-iron skillet, and the cleaning supplies. I can get it, really."
He simply ignored her and climbed the steps. "Why the hell did you lock the door when we were coming right back""
"Habit." She turned the key, but before she could shift to reach for the box, he'd pushed by to take it in himself.
"Well, thanks." She stood beside the open door, knowing it was not only rude, but that she was letting in cold air. "Sorry for the imposition."
"Uh-huh." He turned a circle, hands in his pockets now. Small, depressing space, he thought, until you took in the view. It was all about the view. And it was clean, that would be Joanie's doing. Empty or not, she'd have banished anv dust or cobwebs regularly.
"Could use some fresh paint," he commented.
"I suppose."
"And some frigging heat. You'll freeze those bird bones of yours in here."
"No point in turning up the heat until I move in tomorrow. I don't want to hold you up."
He turned back, aimed those eyes at her. "You're not worried about holding me up, you just want me out."
"Okay. Bye."
For the first time, he gave her a qu
ick, genuine smile. "You're more interesting when you've got a little bite to you. What's the special tonight?"
"Fried chicken, parsley potatoes, peas and carrots."
"Sounds good." He strolled to the door, stopped directly in front of her. He swore he could almost hear her body brace. "See you around."
The door closed quietly behind him, and the lock snicked before he'd gone down the first step. He circled the building and, to satisfy his curiosity, looked up when he reached the front.
She was standing at the center window, staring out at the lake. Slim as a willow stem, he thought, with windblown hair and deep, secret eyes. He thought she looked more like a portrait in a frame than flesh and blood. And he wondered just where she'd left the rest of herself. And why.
SPRING THAW meant mud. Trails and paths went soft and thick with it, and caked boots left it streaked over the streets and sidewalks. At Joanie's, the locals who knew her wrath scraped off the worst of it before coining in. Tourists, who would flock to the parks and campgrounds and cabins in another month, were in short supply. But there were those who came for the lake, and for the river, paddling their canoes and kayaks over the cold water, and through the echoing canyons.
Angel's Fist settled down to the quiet interlude between its winter and summer booms.
At just past sunrise, when the sky was blooming with pinks. Reece navigated one of the narrow, bumpy roads on the other side of the lake. More a trail than a road, she thought as she twisted the wheel and slowed to avoid a dip in the hard-packed dirt.
When a moose wandered across the track, she not only gasped out loud in surprised delight, but sent up a little prayer of gratitude that she'd been going about ten miles an hour.
Now, she'd sing hosannas if she wasn't lost.
Joanie wanted her there at seven, and though she'd given herself twice the time needed, she teared she'd be late. Or end up driving to Utah.
Since she'd been looking forward to spending the morning baking, she didn't want to end up in Utah.
She passed the stand of red willows, as advertised. At least she thought they were red willows. Then caught the glimmer of a light.
"Round the willows, bear left and then… Yes!"
She saw Joanie's ancient Ford pickup, mentally pumped her fist in the air. And then just stopped the car.
She didn't know what she'd been expecting. A rustic little cabin, maybe. A small western bungalow. Either would have suited her image of where her sharp-tongued, impatient boss might live.
But she hadn't been expecting the style and space she saw in the log-and-glass house, the long sweep of porches, of decks that butted out to rise over marsh and into glade.
Nor had she expected a small flood of winter pansies, all cheery and purple, spilling out of window boxes. She thought: Gingerbread house, though it had straight, practical lines rather than curlicues. But there was something about the way it was tucked into the woods, like a secret, that made it fanciful.
Charmed, she followed the orders she'd been given and parked, then climbed out to walk around to the back.
Windows in every direction, Reece noted. Generous ones that would offer views of mountain, of marsh, of lake and of the town. More pots of pansies, others that held spears that would bloom with daffodils and tulips and hyacinths once the weather warmed.
Light beamed against the glass. She could see Joanie through one of the kitchen windows, wearing a sweatshirt with its sleeves shoved up to her elbows, already mixing something in a bowl.
Reece made her way around to a door, knocked.
"It's open!"
The fact that it wasn't locked made Reece wince. What if she were a madman with a club? Shouldn't a woman, especially one living alone, consider such possibilities and take basic precautions? But she stepped into a tidy mud/laundry room where an old flannel jacket and a shapeless brown hat hung on hooks, and a pair of ancient work boots stood handily by the door.
"You got any mud on your shoes, you take them off before you come into my kitchen."
Reece checked, hunched her shoulders guiltily, then took off her shoes.
If the exterior of the house had been a revelation, the kitchen was the answer to every prayer.
Spacious, well lit, with an acre of solid-surface counter in gorgeous tones of bronzes and coppers. Double ovens—oh God. she thought, a convection oven. Sub-Zero fridge, she noted, almost quivering with pleasure as a woman would before sex with an Adonis. She nearly salivated at the sight of a Vulcan range, and oh sweet Jesus, a Berkel mixer.
She literally felt tears burn the back of her eyes.
And with the high-end efficiency was charm. Forced spring bulbs bloomed in little glass bottles in the wmdowsill, interesting twigs and grasses lanced out of a burl-wood vase. There was a little hearth with a fire simmering. And the air was redolent with the perfumes of fresh bread and cinnamon.
"Well?"Joanie set the bowl she held on a counter. "Are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you going to get an apron and get to work?"
"I want to genuflect first."
Joanie's pretty mouth twitched. She obviously gave up, and she grinned. "Kicks ass. doesn't it?"
"It's fabulous. My heart sings. I figured we'd be…" She broke off. cleared her throat.
"Baking in some broken-down oven and working at a spit length of counter?" Joanie snorted, walked over to a stainless steel cotfeemaker. "This is where I live, and where I live I like some comfort, and a little style."
"I'll say. Will you be my mommy?"
Joanie snorted again. "And I like my privacy. I'm the last place on this side of town. There's a good quarter mile between here and the Mardson place. Rick and Debbie, their kids. You see their youngest girl out with her dog by the lake every chance she gets."
"Yes." Reece thought of the little girl, throwing the ball in the water for the dog to fetch. "I've seen her a few times."
"Nice kids. Other side of them—with space between—is Dick's place. The one I let you practice on when you first came in. Old coot," she said with some affection. "Likes to pretend he's a mountain man, when what he is, is gay as the daisies in May. In case you haven't noticed.
"I guess I did."
"Then just beyond that is the cabin Boyd's using. Couple others planted here and there, but most of them're rentals. So it's a nice quiet spot."
"It's a beautiful spot. I ran into a moose. I mean, I saw one. We didn't make actual contact."
"Get so they'll come up and all but knock on my door. I don't mind them, or any of the other wildlife conies around. Except when they start in on my flowers."
Studying Reece, Joanie picked up a dishcloth, wiped her hands. "I'm going to have coffee and a smoke. Water's on simmer there in the kettle. Go ahead, make yourself some tea. We're going to be working for the next three hours or so, and once we get down to it, I don't like idle conversation. We're going to get that out of the way first."
"Sure."
Joanie took out a cigarette, lit it. Leaning back against the counter, she blew out a stream. "You're wondering what I'm doing, living in a place like this."
"It's beautiful."
"Had it nearlv twenty years now. Over those two decades, I've added on, fiddled and fooled when I had a mind to." She paused to sip her cot-fee, crossed ankles covered in gray, woolly socks. "It's about what I had in mind now."
Reece took the kettle off the burner. "Your mind has really