by Anna Cove
Might as well give it a try.
Moving slowly, Laura pulled her tablet from her purse and turned it on. She spent the next ten minutes trying to connect to the Wi-Fi to no avail. She could see the hotspot in the list, and when she typed in the password it tried to connect, but then it would throw her an error.
Stifling a groan, she balanced the tablet on the back of the couch.
She intended to scan through current documentaries on the market to give her some ideas. But doing that would blow through her "unlimited" data plan in no time. It wasn't that she didn't have the money, but she didn't want to deal with the throttling. If life with a baby was going to be this quiet, she needed fast and reliable internet.
It was supposed to be included in the cost of her rent. Maybe, she thought, it was just a supply glitch, and it would come back in a little while.
What if it didn't, though?
Laura didn't want to wait. She wanted it fixed, now. Just because she was in the boons, didn't mean she couldn't come up with the best idea she'd ever had in her life. But to do so, she needed internet.
She picked up her tablet and surfed to her email account. Then she went through the emails to the one Cal had forwarded her about the house.
The owner's name was Dylan Wilson.
Why did that sound familiar?
She tried the included phone number, but it rang until the voicemail picked up. She hung up and sent a text. Hi. I'm renting your house on Big Badger Mountain. The wireless isn't working. Could you please send someone to help?
LAURA HAD BEEN WAITING, perched on a stool in the kitchen with Aaron strapped to her chest in a sling. She downed the last bite of her rewarmed lasagna—which was some of the best lasagna she'd ever had in her life—and eyed the pan.
She wanted another piece. She could never remembered a time when she had been so hungry, not even in the later stages of her pregnancy. She couldn't seem to get enough food lately.
Just as she reached for the spatula, however, the doorbell rang.
"You and I, dear lasagna, will have another date later," she whispered.
Brushing off her hands, and swiping at the area around her lips to check for rogue splashes of sauce, she moved to the door, favoring her left ankle.
When she opened it, the person standing outside was facing away from her. But on a quick glance she could see that the owner of the cabin was younger than she would have guessed. She wore an oversized barn coat, skinny jeans, and a short haircut.
She seemed vaguely familiar from the back and Laura searched her mind again for the name.
Dylan Wilson. Dylan. Wilson.
Dylan turned around, her hand stuck out for a shake. "Hi, I'm—"
Her name fell from her lips. Laura stopped swaying, her hand resting on Aaron's warm nearly gelatinous form.
"Laura," she said, familiarly, like they had known one another for years.
It didn't mix with what Laura felt. Laura squinted her eyes, her shoulders tightening, her legs ready to lunge if she had to. Why was her body reacting in this way? Now that she saw her, she was familiar.
Dylan Wilson was the woman who was running that alliance group for kids in The Snuggery. And Dylan Wilson was the woman she had beat up in the hospital. The bump, thankfully, and there was definitely a bump, was on the back of her head, so it didn't mar her face... but still, it was there. Laura had seen it when she'd opened the door. Dylan had a small bald spot she couldn't quite conceal with her hair.
"Oh, my God." Laura lifted her fingers to her lips, then covered her eyes and turned around. "Oh, my God."
What did I do?
She turned back, and her hand dropped to her mouth again. No doubt about it, this was the woman from The Snuggery and the woman from the hospital. It was all clicking into place now. "What are you doing here?" Laura asked, her brain not quite working as fast as she would have liked. There were other pieces of this puzzle, too, and so many questions, but at this moment in time they were not dovetailing together.
"You texted me about the wireless not working?" Dylan's steely eyes touched on everything but Laura. "I can come back another time if now doesn't work. Maybe I'll just send someone else. I figured—oh, shit. I shouldn't have come."
"No." Laura grabbed Dylan's arm as she turned to leave. "Come in, please. I don't think I can go any longer without the Wi-Fi. I just..."
Why did she have the urge to tell Dylan how lonely she was in this cabin with a baby? Dylan didn't need to know that. She was her landlady. She had come to fix her internet access. This was business.
Dylan set her lips in a line. Her dark eyes stormed just as they had the day Laura had met her in The Snuggery. She said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes. Laura let go of her arm, and Dylan squeezed through the door, looking as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible.
She must hate me, Laura watched her take off her coat. I attacked her. I did that to her.
In the light, it looked even worse. She could see the stitches through Dylan's hair. It would scar and she might never be able to grow hair in that spot again. Laura had thought the intruder was a stranger, but it hadn't been. She'd beaten up this quiet, reserved woman. Why? Because Laura had acted before asking questions. She was lucky Dylan wasn't reaming her out. A lesser woman might, or may have just turned around when she realized who was renting her cabin, or might even have evicted her.
But apparently, Dylan wasn't that kind of woman.
Dylan hung her coat on the hook. She wore a striped T-shirt and jeans that hugged every slender inch of her legs. An arrow tattoo ran parallel to her collarbone, poking out from the asymmetrical neckline of her shirt. Pieces of other tattoos shone on her biceps, peeking from under her sleeves. Laura took all this in and bit her lip. She's a piece of art, this woman. But something was off. Like the edge of a canvas whose threads started to fray, she seemed tired and worn. Laura had sensed something similar when she'd first met her as well.
"Do you mind if I look in the closet under the stairs? That's where the equipment is."
"Not at all," Laura said quickly, realizing she had been staring. But she couldn't stop. In silence, she watched as Dylan strode to the door on her long legs and bent a little to open the undersized closet door. Dylan slid a bag off her shoulder and set it down next to her. Every movement was careful and measured. Dylan worked with quiet confidence.
Laura inched closer, things to say to this enigmatic woman pinballing around in her head.
I'm sorry for slamming a pitcher into your head.
I thought you were someone else.
Why were you in my room?
"Do you want anything?" Laura asked, going with the safest option. "Water? Lasagna? Your text said you just got off work. You must be hungry."
"No, thanks," Dylan said without turning around. "I'll just install this new modem and router and get out of your hair."
"You're not in my hair." Laura's voice sounded high-pitched and strained to her ears. She took a breath, trying to unwind herself from the predicament she found herself in. Why was this woman making her squirm? It was time to fake it. She put on the brazen personality of her character in The Beautiful Ones. Charlotte was much braver than Laura. She could feel her body straighten, as it always did when she went to play her counterpart. "So, you own this place, huh?"
"Yep."
"But you don't live here."
"Correct."
"Why not? I mean, it's beautiful. I would live here if I were you. I do, actually."
Dylan pulled her head out from the tiny closet. "Do you have a laptop I can borrow to configure this?"
Laura paused. Was Dylan angry with her? Did she understand? It was hard to tell. She still hadn't made eye contact. Dylan sat back on her heels and stared into the dark closet, and Laura decided that standing around and staring wouldn't make this awkward moment any less awkward.
She made her way slowly over to the couch and fished her laptop from her bag. When she reached the closet, she
handed it to Dylan. "My password is..."
God... this is embarrassing.
Dylan offered her the laptop, but the thought of bringing it over to the table or bending down to the ground made Laura's ab muscles twinge.
"I'mthequeenoftheworld. All one word. Capital I. Apostrophe in I'm."
A smile twitched on Dylan's lips, relaxing her features in a way that made her look a hundred times more attractive. Not that she was unattractive to start with, Laura thought. But it gave Dylan a glow that had drawn Laura to her from the start. It was the glow that had made her want to donate to her organization.
Ugh. The donation. "I forgot to give you the sponsorship money for your organization."
"It's okay." Dylan didn't look up from the computer. "I didn't remind you. And you've obviously been... busy."
"No, it's not. Here, let me write you a check."
"It's really not necessary. I don't want to bother you any more than I already have." Dylan closed the top of Laura's laptop. "Okay, that's all set."
"You haven't bothered me at all. You came here to fix this in your time off."
Dylan grabbed her bag and slung it back over her shoulder. She made her way to the door, walking faster than Laura could ever hope to at this point in her recovery.
"Wait." It was all happening too fast. She wanted to ask Dylan so many questions. "Please, come have dinner with me tomorrow night. I want to apologize. For... the head wound."
Dylan glanced at the coat rack, pausing a long time. Something flickered over her face.
"Please," Laura said. "I don't like to be in debt to people. Let me make you dinner, at least."
"I don't want to inconvenience you with the baby and... stuff."
It was the first time Dylan had acknowledged Aaron, and Aaron stirred against Laura as if he already knew his name. "It's no bother. My neighbor—your neighbor—she brought over this lasagna."
"So, by cooking for me, you meant..."
"Reheating. I'm a master." With that Laura put on her most dazzling smile. "Please?"
Dylan let out a breath and finally, finally met Laura's eyes. "Okay. I'll come to dinner. I'll bring wine."
"Great. See you tomorrow night. Same time. Same place."
Dylan nodded once and walked out the door. Laura watched as Dylan got into her car and retreated down the driveway. Suddenly, she was very excited for tomorrow night, and very nervous. Dylan had barely said a full sentence during the entire visit. How did you talk to someone who didn't want to talk back?
For once, Laura was grateful for being an actress. It may have been unintentional, it may have been a mistake, but it may also just be the thing that got her through a dinner with Dylan Wilson. If Laura couldn't do it, well, Charlotte could.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FIRST TIME DYLAN used Laura's phone number, it was not to ask her for money, but to cancel their dinner date.
Saying yes had been a mistake. When a shift came up at the communications center the Tuesday night of their dinner, Dylan jumped at the opportunity.
But Laura was persistent. She texted and texted and called and left messages practically begging Dylan to dinner. This lasted a week before Dylan finally relented, texting yes just to get her to shut up. Laura gave her a date three days later.
The day of the date was toward the end of April, and winter was finally releasing its grip on Love Falls. The snow had melted, leaving piles of salt and sand on the roads. Though the grass was still a yellowed brown, fresh green life dotted the trees. People were starting to look up as they walked, letting their arms swing rather than pinning them by their sides with their hands stuffed in their pockets.
Dylan almost felt happy as she strolled into town to pick up a few things before heading up the mountain. She reveled in wearing only a spring jacket, in her own quiet way, and she couldn't resist smiling in the sunshine. She popped into the local winery's storefront and bought a bottle of wine and some flowers for Laura, then she found something for Aaron in a toy shop next door.
On the way up the mountain, Dylan's good mood continued. She turned on the radio and hummed along to whatever played, her windows wide open and the fresh mountain air a welcome change to the dingy recycled basement air of the communications center. The sun was just dipping below the tops of the trees as she parked her car and gathered her gifts in her arms.
Then she straightened and closed the door with her butt, and she remembered why she had said no to dinner so many times.
The cabin.
She swallowed. It was just a house. It couldn't hurt her. She'd managed to get through the fifteen minutes it took to fix the wireless a week before without too much trouble. That was a necessity, though, and one where she was able to stay focused. This was for pleasure, if you could call it that, and there was no way she'd be able to distract herself this time.
But maybe it would be good to spend some time in the cabin. Maybe it would stop this new flood of Katie memories, like listening to a song that was stuck in her head.
She took the stairs like they were on the edge of a cliff, slowly and carefully. As she approached the door, it swung open, threatening to toss her into the canyon.
"Come on in!" Laura waved, but turned just as quickly and rushed back to the oven. She yanked open the door and smoke billowed out. Angling Aaron in his wrap away from the oven, she swatted at the smoke with a potholder, coughing.
Dylan hurried inside, her initial relief at not having to do the whole greeting and potentially grieving thing right in front of Laura replaced by worry. Dylan dumped her gifts on the island and ran over to Laura's side. "Let me take care of it."
Laura handed Dylan the potholder and backed away, waving her hand in front of her face to dispel the smoke. She checked on Aaron, then disappeared somewhere behind Dylan. There was an acrid burning smell coming from the oven, and if Dylan didn't take care of it, the smoke alarms would start going off, and they were hell to turn off without a ladder.
She grabbed a second potholder from the drawer under the oven and reached into the black abyss, pulling out a circular dish with a blackened, unidentifiable food within. She placed it on the stove and waved the potholder over its smoldering ashes.
"What the heck did you make?" Dylan asked, her voice strained by the smoke she inhaled. She sought out Laura, who was standing behind the table holding a silver candlestick like she might just smack the offending dish to death.
Laura gave a sheepish grin and set the candlestick back in the middle of the table. "I tried to make an apple pie for dessert."
"I think... you may not have succeeded."
Laura's cough turned into a laugh. "That's a nice way of putting it, but you don't have to sugarcoat it for me. In my book this was a total failure."
"It's just well done. Caramelized, you could say."
"Oh, really?" One side of Laura's mouth pulled up with the hint of a sly smile.
"Yeah."
She raised her eyebrows. "You gonna eat it?"
Dylan chuckled. Touché. "I think I'll pass. But still, this isn't a total failure. A total failure would be if we'd had to call the fire department. The house is still standing. Everyone is still alive. And we've got something to laugh over now in the future."
"The future?" Laura raised her eyebrows.
"Oh... umm..." Dylan ran a hand through her hair and stared at the smoldering dish. Could she use it to get out of the house? Why was she already looking for a way out? You've got to stop running, you know, Sky had said. Dylan had denied—to herself—that she was a runner, and yet, here it was, plain as day, the urge to leave. It was so much easier not to deal with things.
"Anyway, welcome. Is it proper for me to welcome you to your own home?"
"It's as much yours as it is mine right now," Dylan said softly. She'd thought that once she'd entered the house for a social engagement all she'd see was Katie. And while the echoes of her wife were certainly there, it was not her focus. Her focus had been on the burning apple pie, and now she w
as past the hardest part. She was in.
Having averted the oven disaster, the only thing she could really look at was Laura. The woman was wearing a deep-cut sunshine yellow blouse with wide-legged jeans. She wore the baby in a red wrap that looked more like an accessory than a burden. Golden hoops dangled from her ears and her long hair was swept up in a simple twist. She had a neck like a dancer, and kind eyes, and she was smiling at Dylan like they had just shared an inside joke.
"I brought wine," Dylan said, feeling self-conscious under the woman's steady gaze. She had done her best to do something with her hair and clothes, something close to what she used to do, but she still felt underdressed in her worn button-down and jeans. It was all she had, though. She could use a shopping trip, and maybe a trim as well. Then she realized her mistake and covered her mouth. "Oh, I should have asked you before bringing this. Are you breastfeeding?"
"Yes, but a glass of wine won't kill him. Might help him sleep for more than two hours at once." She placed her hand on the bundle's back. He was so quiet, and yet a palpable presence in the room. How old was he now? Two weeks? Laura looked great for having delivered a baby mere weeks before. Radiant. She stretched out her arm. "Here, I'll open it. Why don't you pour us a bowl of nuts to tide us over until I manage to microwave dinner?"
"Microwave?" Dylan resisted wrinkling her nose. "Are you sure you don't want me to cook something?"
Laura's brow creased, and for a split second she looked self-conscious. But that image fled in the next moment. "It's a casserole from Colleen."
"Oh, so Colleen's been here."
"Yes. Twice. The second time she just dropped off the casserole with a note."
"She's a sweetheart. And her casseroles are good. But it would be even better if we heated it up in the oven. Do you mind?"
"Not at all, but you better do the heating. You've seen my track record with the oven. It only gets worse from there."
"Okay. I better get to it." While Laura made her way to the couch with the wine and glasses, Dylan located the nuts and transferred them into a bowl. Then she preheated the oven, removed the foil from the pan, and slid it inside. She set the timer for thirty minutes and started digging in the fridge for salad ingredients. She tossed a few items together, added some spice, whipped up a dressing, then made her way over to the couch where Laura was sitting. It all felt so normal. In fact, since Dylan had entered the house their relationship had felt like the most normal thing in the world. But it wasn't. They barely knew one another.
