Cynthia Thomason - Blue Ridge Hideaway

“Look, Bret, I know how you must be feeling. I screwed up again. I get that. When I’m able to put a few bucks in my pocket, the old demon comes back, and I just have to risk it on the bigger payoff.”

“How many times are we going to have this conversation, Pop?”

“This time is different, son. This time I really disappointed you. I’ll make it right. I’ll stay here and work on this project of yours until I pay you back the whole five grand.”

“Pay me back? Now I’m supposed to hire you on top of everything else?”

“You told me you were going to hire somebody. Why not me? I can work hard.”

Bret stopped walking, turned and faced his father. Yes, he had admitted that he’d need to hire a helper to get the camp up and running in time. And his dad did have skills. “You bet you will,” he said. “I own you until this place is open and then some.”

“Fair enough.”

Bret stared at the door. “But what about that woman out there? What do we do about her tonight?”

Clancy had the decency to look at least a bit guilty. He avoided Bret’s stare. “Maybe she’ll accept payments. I’ll send her a little every month until we’re square.”

“You think that’s going to make her happy? Because I don’t. She wants the whole thing. I can’t see her leaving this mountain without the five grand.”

Clancy seemed to shrink in his chair. “She does seem determined. Tell me, son, do you have five thousand dollars?”

Bret had known this question was coming. Still every muscle in his body tensed. His reserves were running low. He’d spent most of his savings and the majority of his disability checks to get The Crooked Spruce ready. The last thing he wanted to do was pay his dad’s debt. Yes, he had five thousand, but he wasn’t ready to admit that to his father.

“Oh, sure, Pop.” He pulled out a drawer. “It’s right here in the kitchen junk drawer!”

“I didn’t mean here at the outpost. I meant anywhere.”

“Do you know what she needs the money for?” Bret asked.

“Haven’t a clue. She said she owes somebody. All I can say is that I don’t believe she’s in trouble with bad people or anything. She was a good worker. Came in every day. Never caused any problems.”

The law enforcement wheels in Bret’s head continued to piece together the story of Dorie Howe. “Doesn’t mean she’s not into something illegal or dangerous, Pop. In my business—my former business—you learn that even the most innocent-looking people can be hiding something.” And with that can of mace and a hundred pounds of grit packed into her little body, Dorie Howe could be hiding plenty.

At the image of her pretty face scowling up at him, he couldn’t resist a secret smile. He shook his head. Good grief, Donovan, you’ve been away from women too long!

“Why don’t you check her out?” Clancy said. “Call one of your contacts from the force.”

Bret had been thinking the same thing. Dorie had proved her case, and Pop definitely owed her, but she was so desperate to get the money that Bret’s cop instincts had gone on instant alert. Did he have the right to check her out? You bet he did. She was on his mountain, mixed up in his family. He not only had the right. He had an obligation. Especially with Luke due back in the morning.

Luke. Thinking of his son brought to mind a whole different set of responsibilities. He honestly hoped the kid had had fun with his aunt and cousins the past week. He’d certainly been anxious to go, though Bret had been reluctant to agree to the time away. True, this mountain location wasn’t everything a ten-year-old could hope for. But Bret still believed he’d made the right decision to get them out of Miami, away from the bad memories.

And he’d done all he could to make the move seem like an adventure. In just a few months he’d taught his son survival skills, introduced him to tools and construction, taken him to town a couple times a week to rent video games, see movies, eat pizza. He’d thought he had all the bases covered, and yet the boy still seemed unhappy much of the time. And too excited about going to Atlanta with his aunt Julie.

He refocused on his father and the current problem. “What do you know about Dorie, Pop? Family, friends, that sort of thing.”

“Not much. I didn’t ask her a lot of personal questions when she applied for the job. She was like a saving grace when she walked in the Crab Trap that day, willing to work to put a little spit and polish on the place. A few people she knew stopped in from time to time, and they talked. I don’t know what about, but they seemed to like her. Left her good tips, I remember. I knew about that picnic company and how it was her living. But I just figured that made her more valuable to me. She knew something about food and service.”

Bret took a sip of his coffee. “I’m going to call Rob at the department,” he said. “Let’s see what we can find out about Miss Dorie Howe.” He paused before adding, “She is a ‘miss,’ right, Pop? No husband or mobster boyfriend to show up here one day?”

“Not married,” Clancy confirmed. “And if she has a boyfriend I never met him. She’s a cute little thing, though, so...”

Bret had already determined that for himself but wasn’t about to let Dorie Howe’s cuteness deter him from what he thought was right. “Never mind, Pop,” he said. “As long as some husband isn’t going to follow her up here and put another plug in me.”

“Heaven forbid,” Clancy said. “Can’t go through that again.”

Bret took his cell phone from his back pocket. “Reception is always better at night,” he said. “Less interference from the towers. I’m going to give Rob a call now. Should have info by the morning.”

“What about this evening? What are you gonna do about Dorie?”

“I’m not her keeper, Pop. But I certainly don’t want her driving that beat-up truck of hers down the mountain in the dark. And it’s freezing out there. The only place she can stay is that fleabag motel by the convenience store.” He tapped the phone against his thigh. “I’ll tell her she can stay here tonight.”

“Okay, you do that. And I’ll make sure my door’s locked.”

* * *

DORIE JUMPED WHEN the knob turned, and she quickly put a few feet between herself and the door. The men came out of the kitchen. Bret looked at her, but his face was unreadable. In fact, father and son could have been a pair of granite bookends for all the clues she could derive from their expressions. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to get good news. She stood straight, hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans and said, “Well?”

His gaze never wavering, Bret rubbed his hand over the nape of his neck and said, “I need to sleep on this, Dorie. There are extenuating circumstances I need to consider.”

“What extenuating circumstances?”

“Well, for one, you can’t possibly think I have five thousand in cash in this building.”

That would be nice, but also unlikely.

“But I might have a plan.”

A plan? The only plan she was interested in was one that put five thousand dollars in the palm of her hand. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m going to try to work something out that is fair to everyone.”

“Everyone?” She glared at Clancy. “I couldn’t care less about being fair to your father. He cheated me. He obviously doesn’t understand the meaning of the word fair.”

“I know it seems that way,” Bret said. “But you have to admit that I’m not responsible for his mistakes.”

Yes, she supposed she did have to admit that. But doing so wouldn’t get her the money, so she said, “What about the Donovan family honor? Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”