Nora Roberts - The Hollow

“I love the guy. Where we live isn’t as important to me as living together.”

“And your keyboard fits anywhere. If you need to pop off somewhere for a story, Cal’s going to be easy with that. The big change here for you, Quinn, is being in love and settling down. Those aren’t the only big changes for Layla.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’d like-and it’s not just because I’ve got stars in my eyes-I’d like to see the two of them work it out. And for purely selfish reasons, I’d love to have Layla stay. But if she decided it’s not for her, then it’s not. I should go get ice cream.”

“Of course you should.”

“No, seriously. She’s bummed out. She needs girlfriends and ice cream. As soon as I finish this up, I’m going to walk over and buy some. No, I’ll go now, and walk around the block a few times first so I can eat my share without guilt.”

“Get some pistachio,” Cybil called out as Quinn left the room.

Quinn stopped by Layla’s room, tapped on the door, eased it open. “Sorry if I was harsh.”

“You weren’t. You gave me more to think about.”

“While you’re thinking, I’m going out for some exercise. On the way back, I’m picking up ice cream. Cybil wants pistachio. What’s your poison?”

“Cookie dough.”

“Got you covered.”

When the door closed, Layla pushed at her hair. A little caloric bliss was just the ticket. Ice cream and friends. She might as well complete the trio of comfort with a hot shower and cozy clothes.

She undressed, then chose cotton pants and her softest sweatshirt. In her robe, she decided what the hell, and opted to give herself a facial before the shower.

How many women in town would actually shop in a place stocked as she’d want to stock a boutique? How many, she thought as she cleansed, exfoliated, would really support that sort of business, instead of heading straight out to the mall? Even if the Hollow was just a normal small town, how could she afford to invest so much-time, money, emotion, hope-into something logic told her would probably fail within two years?

Applying the masque, she toyed with the idea of colors, layout. Curtained off dressing rooms? Absolutely not. It was just like a man to suggest that women felt comfortable stripping down behind a sheet of fabric in a public place.

Walls and doors. Had to be secure, private, and something the customer could lock from the inside.

And damn him for making her speculate about dressing rooms.

I’m completely in love with you.

Layla closed her eyes. Even now, hearing him say those words in her head made her heart do a long, slow roll.

But she hadn’t been able to say the words back to him, hadn’t been able to respond. Because they hadn’t been standing in an old building full of character in a normal small town. They’d been standing in one that had been battered and bruised, in a town that was cursed. Wasn’t that the word for it? And at any time, it all could go up in flames.

Better to take one cautious step at a time, to tell him it would be best for both of them-for all of them-to go on just as they were. It was, most essentially, a matter of getting through.

In the shower, she let the water soothe. She’d make it up to him. Maybe she wasn’t sure what she wanted, or what she dared to wish for. But she knew she loved him. Maybe that could be enough to get them through.

As she lifted her face to the spray, the snake began its silent slither out of the drain.

QUINN STARTED OFF WITH A POWER WALK BECAUSE it made her feel righteous. It wasn’t a hardship to do the extra stint of exercise-not with ice cream at the end of it, and with spring stirring all around. Daffodils and hyacinths, she thought, swinging her arms to kick up her heart rate. Blooming trees and grass starting to green up.

It was a damn pretty town, and Cybil was right. It had been easy for her to slide into the idea of living there. She liked the old houses, the covered porches, the sloping lawns as the ground rose. She liked, being a sociable sort, coming to know so many people by name.

She turned at a corner, kept up the steady pace. Pistachio and cookie dough, she thought. And she might go for the fudge ripple, and screw the healthy, balanced dinner idea. Her friend needed ice cream and girl vibes. Who was she to count the calories?

She paused a moment, frowned at the houses on the corners. Hadn’t she already passed this corner? She could’ve sworn… shaking her head, she picked up her pace again, turned, and in moments found herself back at the exact same spot.

A trickle of fear worked down her spine. Deliberately, she turned the opposite way, kicked up to a jog. There was the same corner, the same houses. She ran straight, only to arrive at the same spot, as if the street itself shifted its position to taunt her. Even when she tried to run to one of the houses, call for help, her feet were somehow back on the sidewalk again, back on that same corner.

When the dark dropped on her, she ran full out, chased by her own panic.

IN THE BOWLING CENTER, CAL STOOD BESIDE HIS father, hands on hips as they watched the new (reconditioned) automatic scoring systems being installed.

“It’s going to be great.”

“Hope you’re right.” Jim puffed out his cheeks. “Big expense.”

“Gotta spend it to make it.”

They’d had to close the lanes for the day, but the arcade and the grill were both open. Cal’s idea there had been to have anyone who came in get a look at the process-the progress.

“Computers run everything. I know how that sounds,” Jim muttered before Cal could speak. “It sounds like my old man crabbing when I finally talked him into going with automatic pin setters instead of having a couple guys back there putting it up by hand.”

“You were right.”

“Yeah, I was right. I couldn’t help but be right.” Jim tucked his hands into the pockets of his traditional khakis. “I guess you’re feeling the same way about this.”

“It’s going to streamline the business, and increase it. It’s going to pay for itself in the long run.”

“Well, we’re in it now, so we’ll see how it goes. And damn it, that sounds like my old man, too.”

With a laugh, Cal patted Jim’s shoulder. “I’ve got to take Lump out for a walk, Grandpa. You want to come along?”

“No. I’ll stay here, scowl some and complain about newfangled ways.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Amused, Cal went up to get Lump. The dog enjoyed going out when they were in town, but was filled with sorrow at the sight of the leash. It gleamed out of his eyes as Cal clipped it to his collar.

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s the law, pal. I know and you know you’re not going to do anything stupid, but the law’s the law. Or do you want me to have to come up to the pen and bail you out?”

Lump walked, head lowered like a prisoner of war, as they went down the back stairs, and out. Since they’d had this routine for a while, Cal knew the dog would perk up, as much as Lump ever perked, after the first few minutes.

He kept his eyes on the dog, waiting for the moment of acceptance as they started around the building. Unless they were walking to Quinn’s, Lump preferred his leg-stretching along Main Street, where Larry at the barbershop would wander out as they passed, and give Lump a biscuit and a rub.

Cal waited patiently while Lump lifted his leg and peed lavishly on the trunk of the big oak between the buildings, then let the dog lead him out to the sidewalk on Main.

There, Cal’s heart slammed into his throat.

Scarred and broken asphalt marred the street; charred bricks heaved out of the sidewalk. The rest of the town was gone, leveled into rubble. And the rubble still smoked. Blackened, splintered trees lay like maimed soldiers on jagged shards of glass and blood-smeared stone. Scorched to ruin, the grass of the Square and its cheerful spring plantings steamed. Bodies, or the horrible remnants of them, scattered over the ground, hung obscenely from the torn trees.