by Nicole Snow
By the time I turn around, still trying to gauge how ancient this place really is, Adam and Chase are up. They're sitting on their bed, scratching their mops of tousled hair. Whether the sound of voices or the smell of food roused them, I have no idea.
“Hungry?”
“Yeahhhh!”
“Shhh,” I say, even though it’s too late. Their shout has my ears ringing, let alone any poor souls in the rooms next door. “Other people are probably still sleeping. Don't be rude, boys.”
“Sorry,” they say, once again at the same time.
It's uncanny, but deep down, I love it. They do most everything at the same time. They're like any kids making innocent mistakes as they grow, but they'll never need to apologize for who they are. “It’s okay,” I say softly. “Come on and eat.”
“Are there cupcakes?”
I smile and rub each of their heads before reaching down to remove the cloth covering the tray. “Most people don’t have cupcakes for breakf…” My words fade away. Besides three plates covered with domed metal lids, there are cartons of milk, a pot of coffee with a single cup, and three pink frosted cupcakes on the tray.
I can’t help but chuckle. “I guess we aren’t most people, are we?”
“Nope,” the boys say while climbing onto the chairs.
“Are we going home today?” Chase asks.
“No, not today.” Not ever is what I really mean.
“Yippie!”
They eat the cupcakes first and I let them. It's no great sin when I feed them right most days. The scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and hash browns fill me up. Damn good. I sit back to drink my coffee while the boys devour their smaller portion of the same breakfast I just had.
It's not long before I'm pouring myself a second cup. Hot and black, just how I like it. A sinking feeling gels the food in my stomach as I watch them eat.
I have to figure out what to do. These two need me. Will need me for years to come.
Since freeing them from the penthouse apartment, we’ve bounced around Illinois, Iowa and Wisconsin, zigzagging from ATM to ATM, drawing out my daily limit. If only I’d had the foresight to up that amount. I have enough money for us to live on for years in the bank, but hadn’t thought about upping the amount. Worse, knowing the transactions left a trail anyone could follow, I pitched the card out the window over the side of a bridge and headed for Canada.
What choice did I have – money or demons in hot pursuit?
We could jump in the truck right now and make it to the border in a few hours, but that's just as risky as it was yesterday. I’d have to show my ID to cross the border. I don't know who's watching or what the Chicago press is saying back home.
Hunkering down would be the best bet, let things cool off till I can contact my lawyer. Granted, Justin was a business lawyer, not a criminal one, but he’ll know someone who can help.
While the boys are finishing up, I dig the tablet out of my duffel bag and turn it on. I’d bought it along with clothes, duffel bags, and a cart full of other essentials the day after leaving Chicago, using a credit card which I then flushed down the toilet in the men’s room of the gas station after using it to fill the truck's tank.
My grandfather’s old truck is a gas hog, but reliable. I took it out of the pole shed on his property, where it’s been parked since grandpa died ten years ago, and where I left mine. My cousin lives on the farm now, and probably won’t go in the shed until summer. Hopefully. If he does, I hope he sees the note I left behind. It simply says I’d borrowed it. John takes the truck out on the roads every summer, just to keep it in running order, so I knew it'd take us wherever we needed to go, about as untraceable as we could get. Which is exactly what we needed and why I threw my phone in the back of a shipping truck with Florida license plates at a gas station.
Fucking-A. What a mess.
After punching in the internet password written on a slip of paper and taped to the front of the phone book on the desk, I search hotels, resorts, and all sorts of other lodging options along the Canadian border for an hour or more. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but I do know my options are crap. I only have a couple of grand, tops, in my billfold. Spending three hundred a night isn’t feasible. This place, the Grand Pine Lodge, doesn't even have its own website. The price is very reasonable, too.
What I need is a job. Income. Enough money so I can pay our room and board here, saving my cash for when we have to leave. The dollar stretches a bit further over the border, but only if I've got plenty to stretch.
It's far from my biggest worry, too. The Stone Syndicate won’t stop looking. They know where Nelia’s money came from, and they know who killed Aiden.
They know my fucking name, who my kids are, and every sacred stretch of Chicago soil I ever frequented. We can't stop for long. We have to keep moving.
“Dad, there’s a horse out there,” Adam says, breaking my quiet panic.
“Can we go look at it?” Chase asks.
“Or ride it?” Adam pipes in.
They're getting restless. I've kept them busy getting dressed, combing their hair and brushing their teeth, all on their own, which takes ample time considering they're only five.
“Sure,” I say, suppressing a sigh. “Fresh air will do us all good, I suppose.” It’ll give me time to look around, too, maybe see if there's a back road out of this place. Valuable info I may need if the time to leave comes sooner than I think. “Get your coats on, and don’t forget your mittens.”
“They’re gloves, Dad,” Chase corrects.
“Right, don’t forget your gloves.” I smile. Nelia may have given them half their genes, but they've got my looks and brains. My focus.
Small blessings. Can't fathom what the hell I'd do right now without them.
It's only a little after seven and the hotel is pin-drop quiet, so I tap my lips with a finger as we walk down the stairs. Their hushed giggles make me shake my head. This is how they’ve been since we left. Following my commands without questions, acting like the entire thing is one huge adventure.
Technically, it is. Just not the joyous kind they think.
I open the door and close it again behind us as quick as possible. The boys can't hold back their shouts of freedom any longer as they tear across the wide front porch and down the stairs.
Whoever does the shoveling around here must get up early. The porch, steps, and sidewalks are clear from last night's snow, as well as a wide pathway to the barn that's a good hundred yards off to the east side of the lodge. Shoveling that much wouldn’t have been easy. A good two inches fell, the wet, heavy kind that makes good snow balls, snow forts, and snowmen. The boys run on toward the barn, stopping to scoop up a handful every now and again.
I scanned the area, looking for signs of trouble, or anything out of the ordinary. Whoever shovels, must not also plow because there aren't any tracks in the parking lot. It's still got my truck and the two other SUVs that were there last night.
Nearly deserted. That'll do fine.
As satisfied as I can be given the circumstances, I follow the boys, catching up with them on the backside of the barn, where they're crouched down looking between the two bottom rails of the fence at the two shaggy looking horses.
“Can we go in there, Dad?” Adam asks.
“No.”
Just then a door on the barn near the fence opens and I take a double look at who comes strolling out.
Cupcake. She must love pink. I didn’t know they made canvas work coats in that shade. Her hair is in another ponytail and a thick head band covers her ears. Pink again.
My morning wood is back with a vengeance, straining against my denim.
“Well, good morning!” she says to the boys, never once looking at me. “What brings you early risers out here?”
“We saw the horses,” Chase says.
“Can we pet them?” Adam asks.
“And ride them?” Chase grins.
“These two are too old to ride anymore,” she s
ays softly, “but you can pet them, if it’s all right with your father.”
The boys look up at me, hope sparking in their eyes. So does she, which makes my heart thud oddly.
It's got to be the stress. I've had women since Nelia, yeah, but always kept them at a distance, far from me and the boys. I'm never getting burned like that again. But fuck, I’m not a monk, and a woman as attractive as Cupcake has the bewitching ability to turn me hard in a heartbeat.
“Can we, Dad?”
I turn to them and nod.
“You’ll have to come through the barn.” She points to the side of the building. “The door I shoveled a path to.”
Testing my hearing, I ask, “You shoveled the path?”
“Yes.”
“And the sidewalks?”
“Yes, why?” she cocks her head.
The boys are already running, so I simply say, “No reason.”
I'm impressed, and that's got nothing to do with her dick-teasing looks. A woman who bakes and shovels is a certain rarity in this day and age. Then again this isn’t the big city.
By the time I get to the door, the boys have shoved it open and darted inside.
“Be careful,” she says. “Slow down.”
The boys listen, slowing to a brisk walk as they make their way around piles of lumber.
“We’re in the middle of a remodeling out here,” she says.
I nod, taking it all in.
Big and solid, the barn is what I’d call a clean slate. This is the part of construction work I’ve always loved. Envisioning the potential, what the final project could look like restored. Unfortunately, I don't get to do it as often as I’d like anymore.
Most of the time, my customers have professional blueprints ready to go for my crew.
Shit, the crew. Just thinking about them twists my lips sourly.
That was one of the two phone calls I’d made before I threw my phone to the wild. To Randy, my construction manager. I told him to cut the men a month’s worth of paychecks and shut everything down. It was the best I could do and it still pisses me off, but I had to make a choice. Fast.
A day or two more, and the Syndicate would be all over my company. They'd go after my men for info, hell, their families. I couldn’t put more lives in danger. Protecting my boys is enough. More than enough.
The other call had been to Mrs. Potter, the nanny and tutor I’d hired for Chase and Adam in better times. I told her I was taking them out of town on business and would call when we return. I'll cut her a severance check, eventually, but she already screwed me once. If she'd said no to Nelia that fucked up day she came...
No. I can't go there again.
Holding in a sigh, I follow the boys, who are following Cupcake, taking my time to examine the space. Whatever helps get my mind off poison. Like the lodge, the barn was built well and it's still solid. Even the floor. By the time I catch up to them through the back door, she's given each of the kids a bucket. A horse eats out of each one, both snorting happily to the boys' delight.
“What type of remodeling project?” I finally ask.
She eyes me critically while continuing to pet one of the big brown horses. I don’t blame her, I wasn’t friendly last night. After a few tense seconds, I walk over and pet the other horse, acting as if I don’t care if she answers or not.
“We’re turning it into more of a stable, with a large tack area room, feed storage, and office.”
“For these two?” I’m not much of an animal person, but I recognize old when I see it.
“No. We’ll keep them, but also bring in more, so we can offer trail rides to guests.”
“What are trail rides?”
She laughs at how both boys speak simultaneously, word for word. “Horse rides.”
“Yippie!” They both jump, no doubt hoping to be the first happy customers.
Picturing a layout inside the barn, I ask, “How many horses?”
“I’m thinking six,” she says, “but it depends on Clayton. He’s our neighbor and this will be a partnership of sorts. The man boards horses and always has more than he can exercise on his property. He doesn’t have enough acreage for trails, either. I think the guests will like it, and hopefully, we’ll both make some money.”
It's a solid plan, though I’m not about to say it. I’m also seeing a job for myself. One that won’t take long, but could pay the money I need.
“Unfortunately, the remodel is delayed right now.”
“Why?” I snap, trying not to show my hand. Not easy.
“Russ broke an ankle and probably won’t get back to work for a couple months. He's kinda our jack-of-all-trades around here. He was spearheading this before the accident.”
Shitfire, this is too perfect. My mind goes a hundred miles per hour, estimating how long it'll take me to complete the remodel as we stand quiet for a short time.
Then Cupcake glances down at the boys and then back up at me, breaking the silence. “So, not to break up the party, but I've got other chores. Can’t let you stay out here, sir. Liability reasons.”
I nod. “Fine. Thanks for letting them feed the horses. Boys, what do you say?”
“Can we do it again?”
I give them a look. “Boys...”
“Thank you, Tabby!” They both lower their eyes and I give a satisfied nod.
Cupcake laughs. A soft, airy sound reminding me what kind of trouble I'm in getting too close to this woman. “Adorable. Do you two always talk at the same time?” she asks.
“Sometimes,” the boys answer shyly.
The sound of more singsong feminine laughter makes me wonder if the boys ever heard such an angelic sound before. Hell, have I?
“Just you working in the barn while the help is out – Russ, right?” I ask.
Cupcake nods. “Yes. Well, I fill their water tank and feed them grain every morning and hay every evening,” she says while collecting the buckets. “It's easy enough.”
“How do you keep the water from freezing?” I wonder aloud.
Her eyes say she still doesn’t trust me, yet she answers, “There’s a pump house in the far corner of the barn that we keep heated.”
Room for improvement. Another opportunity, if they'll bite.
I wave for the boys to follow. They have more questions for her as we walk through the barn. She answers each one while I scan the area again, making mental notes. The old man who checked us in last night said he owns the place, so that’s who I need to talk to. Once we exit the barn, she says goodbye and walks towards the back of the lodge, a plastic salt bucket in hand. I keep the boys outside until they’ve worn off some energy, then lead them inside.
Off the foyer where the large front desk is located, there’s a big front room with a TV and a large game of checkers set up on a coffee table. I get the boys settled in first. I haven’t let them out of my sight since that night our world caved in. Don’t want to now, but must, in order to talk to the old man.
I won’t be far, knowing this is the safest place we’ve been in two weeks, so I leave the room and cross the foyer again. There’s a door behind the desk marked OFFICE. Unable to remember what the man said his name was, I scan a magazine on a side table with a subscription label. Morris Danes.
That’s right. I’ve sold multi-million dollar construction jobs, convincing Morris Danes to pay me to remodel his barn should be like taking candy from a baby.
I knock, fully prepared to open the door upon invitation.
Instead, it opens as someone leaves.
Shit.
It’s Cupcake. The old man sitting behind her bristles hostility. My shoulders want to sag. If she has anything to do with it, I won’t get this job.
III: Hard Bargains (Tabby)
My heart thuds so hard I can't breathe. Why does he do this to me? It happened outside, too, the minute I saw him standing next to the barn. Those blue eyes are the definition of piercing. Like they can see right into my head, read my thoughts. Earlier I’d become a babb
ling idiot, telling him all about my plan for the stable and trail rides. Which he obviously didn’t care about. The dark and brooding expression that crossed his face when he’d walked into the barn made that clear. Even though he’d tried to hide it later.
Well, I can hide a few things too. Like how easy he knots my stomach.
Lifting my chin, I ask, “Something you need, Mr. Osborne?”
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Danes.” His gaze goes past me, settling on Gramps.
I'm about to say I'll help, whatever it is. Mainly because Gramps was never completely sold on the trail rides idea. It won't take much for him to re-think and shut it down. If this dark, coarse stranger blurts out anything I told him...
“Come in then,” Gramps says. “Tabby, shut the door behind you.”
Crap. It's too late to worry.
Rex’s eyes meet mine as he brushes past. There’s a hint of triumph in them, as if he’s won a game I didn't know we were playing. I pinch my lips together to keep from saying something rude.
“If you’ll excuse us, Ms. Danes?” Oh, suddenly, I'm Ms. Danes? Not Cupcake like he'd called me last night?
Shouldn't annoy me, but of course it does.
Keeping my composure, I leave the office and pull the door closed after he enters. Frustration pricks my blood. Gramps is dead set on nothing changing at the lodge. He won’t even consider proper listings on travel sites online. It took me a year to convince him to partner with Clayton Williams for the trail ride idea. No, it's not a million-dollar game changer, but every dollar counts right now. Besides, Clayton’s horse boarding has a basic website and he's promised to include our resort along with the trail rides next time he updates.
Again, not a huge money maker, but baby steps are all I dare take with Gramps. If Rex Osborne screws this up for me, he’ll be sorry.
“Hi, Tabby!” Two little voices chirp.
Their father makes me steam like an engine overheating, but his children are adorable. Looking at them is sunshine. It simply fills my soul with a carefree warmth. “Well, hello again,” I say, walking into the front room. “Are you two playing checkers?”
