“Yep. Just follow the scent of hops. That will either be the Brewhouse or Zachariah.”
“Who’s Zachariah?”
“He’s the local bootlegger and often smells like mash, which, to me, smells more like he hasn’t bathed in weeks.”
The bell above the door rang. “Brewhouse in an hour,” Maisey said, then rushed off to greet the new patrons. “Your booth is empty Doc, will it be apple or cherry pie today?”
Sosie extended her cane and tried to remember her mobility training: walk right, tap left. She swung the walking stick in an arc in front of her.
In her head, she heard her counselor’s voice: “Echolocation will be your friend.”
“Friend my ass.” She banged into a few empty chairs until she found a clear path. She stopped and took in the sounds around her. To her left, ice cubes dropped from the soda machine, which meant the front door was to her right, so she moved in that direction. The sound of the cane was supposed to change as she neared walls and barriers, but she never heard the difference. Maybe she hadn’t paid close enough attention. Her orientation and mobility training at LightHouse happened in a city where noise surrounded her. Perhaps she hadn’t honed those skills yet.
She moved her cane from left to right repeatedly, tapping the tiled floor until she met resistance. She slid it vertically along the door until she came to the handle and exited.
Outside, the cool mountain air hit her with reality. She was alone, in a small town, and didn’t have a clue as to what she would do.
She found a space against the wall and dug her phone from her purse. “Hey, Siri, call Theresa.” It was the third time she’d tried that afternoon, but her agent hadn’t answered.
It rang twice before Theresa picked up.
“I’m not coming to get you.”
Emotions roiled in her stomach while bile rose in her throat to choke her.
“You left me sitting in a diner. I have no place to go.”
“Not my problem. Add it to the list of yours. You owe the Albright’s thirty grand, and you owe me a dozen paintings for the exhibit, but I’ll settle for ten.”
“Oh my God, are you going to leave me here?”
“I already did. I’m back in Denver. Where are you?”
She turned around in a circle. “I have no idea.”
“Figure it out, sweetheart, life won’t wait for you to join it. I’ll need those canvases shipped to my office within the month.”
“You know I can’t do that.” She gripped her cane so hard her knuckles hurt. “How am I supposed to paint when I can’t even find the studio?”
“Swallow that pride and ask for help.”
“I’m asking you.” Her voice quivered.
“I’m done helping. Isn’t it time you helped yourself?”
Before she could say another word, Theresa hung up.
Sosie stood in stunned silence because she had no one to turn to. She moved her cane left to right and walked aimlessly down the street until she hit the drop off at the curb. She took a deep breath and focused her attention on what she heard. Except for the chirp of birds and an echo of laughter, there was nothing.
To step off the curb was like free-falling into the unknown. There could be a car coming, and she wouldn’t see it barreling toward her. Logic said she would hear it, but what about a Prius? Those cars were virtually silent.
“Screw it.” She stepped off the curb and moved into the street. Dying wasn’t the worst thing that could happen; going blind was. Losing her sight caused her to lose everything. If she wasn’t an artist, who was she?
Chapter Four
“Welcome to Aspen Cove,” Baxter walked into Merrick Buchanan’s home on Rose Lane. Baxter looked at the house months ago before he purchased his, but it was out of his budget. However, he was familiar with what it lacked and what it needed.
“Thanks, it’s a huge change from the city, but a welcome respite from the craziness.”
Baxter laughed. “Oh, we’ve got our own brand of crazy. Generally, it comes in the form of gossip, but at least that doesn’t kill you.”
“I can handle gossip, but dodging bullets, I can do without.”
Baxter moved into the kitchen, where the bulk of the work was needed. “Not much of that happening here until hunting season. There’s always some jackass who gets careless, but no one has been shot.” Baxter chuckled. “Take that back. There was one guy who shot himself in the foot.”
“Idiot.”
“That’s what Doc said. He patched him up and told him fishing was less painful.” He leaned against the kitchen counter. “Tell me what you want to do.” His foot moved over the missing floor tile.
Both of their eyes went to the space where the wood subfloor showed through.
“New floor for sure. You probably need to make sure the subfloor isn’t rotting through.”
“It isn’t. I looked at this house before I bought mine.”
Merrick’s eyes grew wide. “What turned you off from this one?”
“The price.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “It’s all relative, I guess. Put this house in Littleton, and it would cost me three times as much and would probably be in worse condition. Since you know the house, why don’t you tell me what you think needs to be done.”
This is where Baxter shined because he had a good imagination. “Obviously, the floor is a problem. If it were mine, I’d tear this tile out and put down hardwood to match the rest of the house. The problem with these older homes is that they are compartmentalized. You can’t really see the beauty of them at a single glance. Having said that, if you’re tearing up the floor, I’d also remove this wall.” He shoved off the counter and walked straight ahead to tap the wall dividing the kitchen from the living room. It’s not true to the era, but it would open up the place and make it user friendly.
Merrick rubbed his clean-shaven jaw.
Baxter didn’t understand how, at after six in the evening, he didn’t have at least a shadow. A quick touch to his own jaw showed he was well on his way to a beard or would be by the end of the day. The hair on his head grew about an inch a month, but the stuff on his face seemed to sprout a quarter inch a day.
“I’m not sure a teardown is in the cards for me. Wes gave me an allowance for tile, paint, trim, and fixtures.”
Though Baxter thought dismantling the house was a good idea, it would mean he’d have to spend more time on the project. However, more time here meant less time at his own home, so he didn’t press the issue.
“Okay, so let’s tear up the floor and install hardwood. If I refinish the rest of the floors at the same time, I can get a good match. If you want to keep it simple, let’s do white subway tiles on the backsplash. I’m sure I can talk Wes into a granite slab for the countertops, so you don’t have grout lines. There’s a fine line between paying respect to the house as it was and how it actually should be. A certain amount of luxury is expected in a home these days.”
Merrick nodded. “Great, what about the bathroom? Is there a way to raise the height of the showerhead?”
Laughter rolled through Baxter. “Yep, I would have done the same. They made these homes for less imposing people. How tall are you?” He was a decent height at nearly six feet, but Merrick was a giant.
“I’m six-six.”
Baxter looked around him. “It’s a good thing this place has nine-foot ceilings.” They moved to the bathroom, where Baxter swept the shower curtain back and looked at the plumbing fixtures. “Rainshower, pulse, or regular.”
“What?”
“What type of showerhead do you want?”
“Oh, umm ... how about regular? I’m a simple guy.”
“Regular it is.” There was nothing regular going on in the shower at his home. He put an adjustable showerhead in that could pound and pulse his flesh with hot steamy water. Who needed a masseuse when he had one of those?
“I’d like to keep the lighting fixtures the same. I kind of like them.” He walked into a
nearby bedroom. All that hung from the ceiling were wires. “Any way you can find a matching light for this room?”
“Yep.” He had a few at his house. He also liked the bubble glass and bought several when Mason Van der Veen gutted a few houses in town.
Merrick looked at him. “When can you get started?”
“I’ve got quite a bit on my plate right now, but it won’t take me long once I begin. We’re talking mostly cosmetic stuff. How about next week?” He knew Wes wanted him to start on the band members’ homes, but he figured he could do a few days on each project and save the weekends for his place. That way, everyone got what they needed.
“Okay, Monday, then?”
“I’ll be here at six.”
Merrick groaned and pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’m still clearing things out in Denver.” He looked around the empty house. “Take the key and come and go as you please. I’m not moving up until the place is ready.”
Baxter pocketed the key. He hadn’t considered Merrick would have to travel from Denver. With no one to inconvenience him or work around, he might be able to finish earlier if he worked nights too.
The men walked to the front door. Baxter stepped outside and turned around. “I’m heading to Bishop’s Brewhouse. If you’re interested in a beer, I’ll buy the first round.”
Merrick nodded. “I could use a beer. Just one, though, because I have a long-ass drive back to Denver.”
They both climbed into their vehicles and headed into town. He beat Merrick by a car length. Both parked side by side down the street and walked together toward Bishop’s Brewhouse.
“What’s the female situation here in town?” Merrick asked.
Baxter pulled the bar door open. “Single women in Aspen Cove are like unicorns. If you find one, it’s a rare thing.”
They walked inside the bar and slid through the crowd surrounding the pool table.
“Is this normal for a Wednesday night? Seems busy for such a small town.”
“It’s hump day, and that means two for one happy hour.” He glanced down at his phone. “We’ve got fifteen minutes to fill up on cheap booze.”
“I told you, I’m only good for one. I’ve got a three-hour drive ahead of me.”
Baxter moved toward the bar and stopped when he saw Sosie sitting on the end stool, sipping a glass of white wine. She looked around the room as if she could see everyone in front of her.
“Who’s the hottie at the end,” Merrick asked.
Baxter laid a twenty on the bar and asked Merrick what he wanted.
“The blonde and a Budweiser.”
“Listen, man, she’s not for you.”
“How do you know?
“First off, she doesn’t live here. Second, she’s ...” Was it his story to tell?
“She’s what?”
“Blind.”
Merrick’s brows lifted, but a smile crossed his face. “When the lights are off and we are wrapped between the sheets, no one needs to see. You can feel your way.”
“No, man. I’m asking you to leave her alone. I don’t think she would be a good fit.” He didn’t know why, but he had this profound need to look out for her. It was ridiculous because, as a protector, he was a downright failure.
The force Merrick used to pat Baxter’s shoulder sent him into the bar. “Dude, you’re sweet on her.”
“No way. Not interested at all.” He nodded to Cannon, who pulled beers from the taps behind the counter. “Give me two Budweisers.”
Cannon filled the frosted mugs and slid them across the bar. “Doc wants to see you.” He jutted his chin toward the crowd.
Baxter looked from side to side and then behind him, searching for the old man. He pointed to himself. “Me or Merrick?”
“You.” He nodded to the corner. “He’s over there with Katie.” Cannon wiped his hand on a bar towel and offered it to Merrick to shake. “So, you’re Merrick? Welcome to town. When do you start?”
Baxter looked at Sosie and then at Doc. He considered saying hello to her, but Doc waved him over. As he passed Merrick, he said, “Not for you, man. I’m serious.”
“Got it. She’s yours.” Merrick said.
“No.” He shook his and decided it wasn’t worth saying again. As he moved toward Doc’s table, Katie rose and headed to the bar.
Doc pointed to one of the three empty seats. “Please, sit down, son. I need to ask a favor of you.”
He took the empty chair across from Doc. “What can I do for you, sir?” He had a lot of respect for the father figure of Aspen Cove. While he’d never had lengthy conversations with him, he could see why everyone loved the old man with the gruff exterior but a heart soft as a marshmallow.
“You know, here in Aspen Cove, we take care of our own.” Doc sipped his beer, leaving foam on his bushy white mustache. “Defining our own is simple; if you’re here, then you’re family.”
Baxter didn’t know what Doc referred to. “I’m sorry, sir, but you’ve lost me.”
“I need you to open up your place to someone for a bit.” He shook his head. “Don’t say no just yet. You’re living in the only place that has an available room that’s free of charge. Seems to me that since Katie has been kind enough to let you live in the apartment above the bakery, you can help me out here.”
“Of course.” He wasn’t used to having a roommate, but he couldn’t argue with the facts. He didn’t pay rent, so he couldn’t make the rules. “When do you need the room?”
“Tonight.”
He’d have to go home and tidy up the place. Not that he was a slob, but there were dishes in the sink, and he’d thrown a shirt or two about the living room. “No problem. Just send him over when he gets into town.”
“She’s already here.” Doc looked beyond him.
Baxter twisted his head to look over his shoulder. Behind him stood Katie, who guided Sosie to the table. His heart took off like a racehorse out of the gate.
“Not her.”
Doc cocked his head. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s blind.”
“Blind, yes. Deaf, no,” Sosie said from behind him. She turned toward Katie. “This is a bad idea.”
“Sit.” Doc pointed to another empty seat, but Sosie continued to stand until Katie lead her to the chair.
Baxter leaned in and whispered to Doc, “I’m not good at babysitting.”
Sosie sat up. “I haven’t needed a sitter since I was ten.”
He gave Doc a pleading look. “I’m a bad caretaker. The last thing I was responsible for died.”
“What was it?” Doc asked.
“A goldfish I got at the fair.”
“You’re lucky it lived until you got it home.”
Baxter shook his head. “That’s not the point. The point is I suck at taking care of people.”
“No one is asking you to take care of her. All she needs is a place to sleep for a few days.”
“But she’s blind, and the apartment is on the second floor. There are stairs.”
Doc grumbled something about puppy brains. “There’s nothing wrong with her legs or her mind.”
“How is she going to know when she’s at the top or the bottom?”
Doc turned to face Sosie, “Can you count, Sosie?”
“Forget it.” Sosie rose from her seat, but Doc reached out and took her arm, tugging her back to the chair.
“Nope, it’s settled. Baxter will take you over when you’re ready.” Doc rose from his seat. “My work is done here.” He stood and looked at Baxter. “You’ve got the beer since you’ve been a pain in my keister.” He turned toward Sosie. “I’d say you’re entitled to another glass of wine because of his insensitive nature.”
She picked up her wineglass and brought it to her lips. “I’ll take a chardonnay, please. Lord knows I’ll need it.”
Katie put a key in Sosie’s hand. “You can stay as long as you want. The apartment over the bakery is kind of a community hostel—a stopping point on the road
to something more permanent.”
“Thank you.” She looked at Katie with gratefulness.
How was it that her eyes could be so damn beautiful and expressive?
“I’ll be right back.” Baxter rose and moved toward the bar. When he got there, he ordered two beers for himself and two wines for Sosie. Something told him they’d need them.
Cannon put the drinks on a tray and nodded toward the table. “Who’s the woman?”
“Sosie, the artist chick, and apparently she’s my new roommate.”
“Sucker.” Cannon laughed. “Doc’s fixing you up.”
He hadn’t considered that a possibility and doubted the probability. “Nope, it’s just Doc taking care of his own.”
“She is easy on the eyes if you know what I’m saying.”
“That’s part of the problem, she may look, but she isn’t seeing a thing.” He moved through the crowd with the tray and set it down on the table.
He put both glasses of wine in front of her. “Wine at twelve o’clock.”
She slid her hand forward until her finger brushed the stems of the glasses. “Two? I need two?”
“I know I do, and I didn’t want you rushing me.”
She turned toward him. “As soon as I clean out my studio, I’m gone.”
“How do you propose to do that? Do you have a system? Forgive me for my insensitivity, or maybe I’m stupid, but if you can’t see anything, how will you pack it up?”
She twisted her lips. “I’ll need help, but I’ll figure it out.”
“I won’t be much use to you.”
She waved her hand in the air. “I’ve heard. You’re not good at taking care of things.”
He drank his first beer without so much as a breath between gulps. “It’s important to know your weaknesses.”
“Or your strengths. I’ve got a skilled bullshit meter, and it’s been going off since I met you.”
Chapter Five
One Hundred Glances (An Aspen Cove Small Town Romance Book 14) Page 3
