No Less Than a Lifetime

by Christine Rimmer

  She caught herself just as he reached North Magdalene Grocery. She would not stand here at the window, mooning over her former employer, all afternoon; she had work to do. Dressed in another old sweatshirt and dry shoes, she went to finish cleaning the rooms and to see how the plumber was getting along.

  Three hours later, near five, the plumber had left with more of Faith’s money. She’d borrowed an industrial vacuum cleaner from her cousin Patrick and vacuumed the standing water out of 104. She’d also found three old box fans in the back of the cleaning closet and set them strategically around on the floor. The fans were going full-blast, doing their best to dry things out.

  She was checking a single man into room 106 when she saw Price go by the window again. He was carrying several shopping bags.

  Resolutely she turned her attention back to where it belonged: her customer, a Mr. D. L. Billings. She flashed Mr. Billings a blindingly bright smile and handed over his receipt and room key. “Enjoy your stay.”

  Mr. Billings grunted, as if in disbelief, and left to claim his room. Once he was gone, Faith set the desk bell in plain sight, then turned for her apartment. It had been a gruesome day. She was going to brew a pot of tea and put her feet up for a while. As always in the daytime, she left the door to her front room open, so that she would be able to hear if anyone came in.

  She was in the kitchen filling the kettle when the bell jingled over the outside door. She set the kettle on the burner, turned it on, started for the office—and met Price halfway there, in the middle of her front room.

  He was carrying a small box and wearing a sheepish grin. “I brought you a housewarming present.”

  Her heart turned over. “Price,” she said. “Don’t.”

  “Oh, come on.” He pretended total innocence, no mean feat for a man of his sophistication. “I chose it just for you. You have to see.” He strolled right over to her sofa and took a seat, setting the box on her coffee table in front of him. Then he sat back and looked around. “This is charming. Honestly.”

  She did her best to suppress the flush of pleasure that swept through her at the compliment. Actually, the apartment did have its own rather rustic appeal. The furniture was all good-quality, pieces she’d collected over the years she lived at Montgomery House. In the weeks since she’d moved in, she’d managed to steal a few hours from the never-ending demands of her motel to run up tieback curtains in a blue-and-white print and trim them with eyelet ruffles. She’d even re-covered a few throw pillows to match. Her own pictures, a few of them Ariel’s vivid watercolors, hung on the walls, masking some of the never-ending knotty pine. In the bathroom, someone had even installed an antique clawfoot tub, probably because it was cheap. But cheap or not, it added a nice touch of whimsy to the place. And best of all, the office and apartment were a one-story add-on, built about twenty years after the rest of the motel. That meant she had her own roof, one that didn’t leak. Also, the appliances, heater and electricity hadn’t given her any trouble as of yet. The plumbing even seemed all right.

  “Aren’t you going to show me around?”

  Faith knew it was of the utmost importance that she give him no openings at all. “No. You’d better go.”

  “Don’t you want to see what I bought you?” Instead of waiting for her answer, he went on, as if she were dying to hear. “I’ve been all over town.”

  “That must have taken at least ten minutes.”

  He shook a finger at her. “Watch that attitude.”

  “Price—”

  “I met several of your relatives.”

  “How lovely for you.”

  “It was great, to tell the truth. I had a terrific time. I walked by the garage. There’s a sign over the door to the parts shop that says Patrick Jones, Proprietor. One of your cousins, right?”

  “Right. And I mean it. You have to go now, because I—”

  “Then I stopped in at your sister’s store. She was there. I introduced myself. She’s a beautiful woman. And a nice person, too, I think.”

  “Yes. Price—”

  “It’s odd, isn’t it, all those years you worked for me and I never met your sister?”

  “Why would you have met her? I was your housekeeper, remember?”

  He ignored that. “But, you know, I think I remember meeting the other one. The one with all the curly red hair.”

  “You met Nevada?”

  “I think so. A few years ago. It was an April morning. And she was sitting at the kitchen table, with you. You were laughing over something, and you stopped when I came in the room.”

  Faith vaguely remembered the incident he was talking about. Nevada had stayed the night on her way from Phoenix, where she lived, to somewhere up the coast, in Washington or Oregon.

  “There’s a family resemblance, with all three of you,” Price was saying. “But you were right when you said that you’re all really different.”

  “Yes. We are. And, Price, I want you to—”

  “Right. I was telling you about my day. I bought some antique bottles from your sister. And a side table. For the morning room.”

  “That’s nice, but—”

  “Evie’s keeping the table for me. Until I leave.”

  “I don’t think I’m getting through to you about—”

  “And then I wandered on down the street. I went into Lily’s. The café?”

  “I know what Lily’s is. But—”

  “I had a beer and talked to the waitress and a few of the customers. They all know who you are.”

  “Well, of course. It’s a very small town. And it’s time that you—”

  “They think you’re in trouble, and any one of them could have told you it was going to take some major renovations to get this place back in shape. But you just didn’t ask around. You were in some kind of big rush, they all agreed, to find yourself a business here and start running it. And everyone says that your family should have stopped you. But then, they wanted you here, of course. And the word is that they had planned to step in and help you anyway, so it would have worked out all right. But you’re much too proud for your own good. Everyone says so. You won’t take money even from your family. Your family is very worried. A woman named Linda Lou Beardsly told me—”

  She managed to cut in then. “Linda Lou Beardsly is a gossip. She has a very big mouth. Like a lot of people in this town. And I’m not interested in—”

  Price shook his head and looked reproachful. “It’s just honest concern from people who care about you.”

  “Spare me.”

  “But let’s not talk about all that, if it depresses you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll tell you about the rest of my tour.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “But there’s so much more. Before I had that beer at the café, I went to Santino’s Barber, Beauty and Variety. Bought a lot of things there for which I honestly have no use at all. And then I stopped in at Fletcher Gold Sales—run by the husband of your cousin Delilah.”

  “Sam. Delilah’s husband is named Sam. And, Price, you have to—”

  “Sam. Yes. Now, that’s an interesting store. All those pickaxes and gold pans. Sam even sells dredging equipment. And jewelry and nuggets. And art. Landscapes painted by your sister’s husband. And wood sculptures that I understand Sam carves himself.”

  “Yes, Sam is very talented. And if you—”

  “Which brings me to your housewarming gift.”

  “No. Price. I—”

  Before she could finish protesting, he opened the box and lifted out a wood carving of a little brown bird. It was plump, with a slender bill. Its tiny round head was thrown back, and its beak was open in fervent song.

  “Oh!” Faith said softly. Entranced, she stepped nearer and leaned down so that she could admire the wonderful detail of the carving: the shape of the wide eyes, the ruffled indentations of the feathers, the absolutely adorable positioning of the wings, so tight to the body, but sticking out a bit above th
e pointed tailfeathers.

  “It’s a house wren,” Price said. “But they don’t live in houses here in the West.”

  “They don’t?”

  “Uh-uh. They nest in tree cavities. Abandoned woodpecker holes. Can you believe it? Sam told me all about them.” He held the tiny treasure out to her. “Come on. Take it. Think of that big check you didn’t take. And the gold watch. It had twelve good diamonds, one for each hour, that watch.”

  “I didn’t want it.”

  “I know. You told me. But you want this. I knew you would. The minute I saw it.”

  “Oh, Price.” She looked in his eyes, over the perfect little head of the precious bird. “If I take it…”

  “You love it. It’s written all over your face.”

  “You would think I was weakening. About the rest.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. You’re a woman of steel. Ask anyone at Lily’s Café.”

  She started to reach for it.

  He whispered, “Have dinner with me tonight. At the Mercantile Grill.”

  She dropped her reaching hand and jumped back. “Price. You promised.”

  He only smiled. “I promised nothing.” He set the tiny figure on the coffee table, where it went on singing its ardent imaginary song.

  In the kitchen, the kettle started to whistle. “Your water’s boiling.”

  “I know. I—”

  “Tea? Is that what you’re brewing back there?”

  “Yes, I—”

  “Are you going to offer me some?”

  “Price, I—”

  He stood. “Never mind. I have to go look at all the things I bought, anyway, and try to figure out what in hell I’m going to do with them.” He slid out from behind the coffee table and headed for the door.

  Holding herself very still, pressing her lips together hard, Faith watched him go. Somehow, she had to keep herself from calling him back and throwing herself at him and telling him to forget dinner, she’d nibble on him instead.

  She heard the bell tinkle over the outer door as he went out. Only then did she allow herself to move. With a sigh that should have been relief, but was actually profound disappointment, she turned for the kitchen and the now screaming teakettle.

  Evie dropped by a few minutes later, after closing up her store for the night. She marched into Faith’s front room and closed the door to the office behind her.

  “He was in to see me,” Evie said.

  “I know. He told me all about it.”

  “Are you all right?”

  Faith shrugged. “Last time I checked, I still had a pulse.”

  “That tea looks wonderful.”

  “Get yourself a cup.”

  Evie went to the kitchen and returned with a cup and saucer and sat down next to her sister on the couch. She poured herself some tea and sipped it gratefully before she said another word.

  Then she set down her cup and turned to Faith. “You know, I really liked him. He’s a very warm and friendly man.”

  “Of course he is. Or he can be, when he wants to. I didn’t say he was a monster. I wouldn’t feel the way I do about him if he was.”

  “He cares for you, Faith.”

  “Reading minds again?”

  Evie stiffened. She never like to be reminded of her special gifts. “I don’t read minds. That’s all behind me now.”

  Faith relented. “Sorry. I’m on edge.” She touched her sister’s arm. “Forgive me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But you won’t get me off the subject. What’s he here for, Faith, if not because he cares for you?”

  Faith shook her head. “Well, he is here because he cares for me.”

  “I knew it.”

  “But not the way I want him to care.”

  “I’m lost again.”

  “He wants to lend me money. He says he won’t go away until I take it.”

  “Money,” Evie echoed softly. “Money, and that’s all?”

  “Yes. No…” A little carelessly, Faith set down her own cup. It clattered against the saucer.

  “Faith, I don’t get it. Yes or no?”

  Faith rubbed her tired eyes. “He’s telling himself it’s only money, that he just wants to see that I’ll be all right, and then he’ll leave. But I think if I fell into bed with him in the meantime, he wouldn’t fight it too hard.”

  Evie’s pretty brows drew together. “I don’t understand.”

  Faith looked at Evie fondly. “Of course you don’t. You have Erik. He loves you and you love him, so you got married.”

  Now Evie was smiling. “It works for us.”

  “I know. And it would work for me, too. But not for Price.”

  “But why?”

  “I told you. He’s determined not to get married again.”

  “Because he lost his child and his first wife.”

  “Right.”

  “But we all suffer losses. And then we have to pick up our hearts and learn to love again.”

  “Tell Price that.”

  Evie scrunched up her beautiful nose. “Do you think he’d listen?”

  “No way.”

  “Well, then.” Evie sipped more tea. “If he’s not willing to commit to you—” now Evie sounded just a little bit prim “—he should let you go.”

  “No argument.”

  Evie set down her cup. “But then, on the other hand, maybe he just needs more time. Maybe you should—”

  “Evie. Let it be, all right? Price and I know where we stand. I want marriage. He doesn’t. We’re on two different sides of a very big gap.”

  “So then, take his money and he’ll go away.”

  “No. I won’t do that.”

  “Then let someone else help you. I could—”

  “Stop.”

  “Faith, you are so stubborn.”

  “Here. Have some more tea.”

  Price dined alone at the Mercantile Grill both that night and the two nights after it. The food was excellent, as Ariel had promised it would be.

  Each night, after he ate, he went next door to the Hole in the Wall Saloon. He had a few drinks and played cards for a while.

  The first night he went to the saloon, Oggie Jones was there, too. The old man was cordial and charming, in his rough way. But more than once Price looked up from the cards in his hand to find that the fellow was watching him, an odd gleam in his small, dark eyes. It made Price uncomfortable, but he shrugged off the feeling and went on with his game.

  An old man’s strange looks didn’t bother him. He was here for a purpose, and he knew he would succeed.

  He was getting to Faith. She’d taken his housewarming gift, after all. And even if she wouldn’t go out to eat with him when he asked her, she couldn’t seem to keep herself from getting involved in the conversations he kept striking up with her.

  And he struck them up every chance he got. The morning after his first night there, he went down to the office a little before nine. He asked Faith to join him for breakfast at Lily’s. She refused. But he managed to keep her there, hovering behind the check-in desk, talking for a good five minutes about nothing in particular.

  It was the same in the afternoon. He just happened to run into her while she was pushing her cleaning cart around. He asked for an extra towel or two. She promised she’d take care of it. They talked about the rain that had started up again around noon. And about the flood she’d had in room 104. He got her to show him the damage. He helped her move the fans around. Then he said something that made her laugh.

  That was when she caught herself. He watched her expression turn wary as she realized she was letting herself get too friendly with him. He got out while he was still ahead.

  He stopped in at the office on his way out to dinner and asked her to accompany him. She said no. But he turned and looked back after he went out the door. She was there, in the window, watching after him. He waved. She quickly ducked out of sight.

  It was more of the same the nex
t day. She accepted none of his invitations, but she lingered to talk to him, always catching herself in the end and telling him she had to get back to work.

  By late the third night, as he lay in his lumpy bed and listened to the rain drumming hard on the roof, he found himself thinking that it wouldn’t be long now before Faith gave in. She’d accept the loan she needed so desperately, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. He could return to Montgomery House, secure in the knowledge that she would be just fine.

  But then again, maybe he wouldn’t leave right away. There was no rush, really. He was enjoying himself here, in spite of the constant rain and the crude accommodations.

  He liked being near Faith; that was the truth of it. He was…accustomed to being near her. She had run his house for all those years, after all. It was going to take him awhile, he supposed, to get used to the idea that she had her own life now, a life totally separate from him and his needs.

  But then again, maybe, in the end, her leaving Montgomery House had been the best thing. Now, once she accepted the money she needed to fix this place up, she would be totally self-sufficient. He’d no longer have to deal with that nagging sense of responsibility toward her that he’d naturally felt while she was in his employ.

  They were two grown adults. Neither of them was committed to anyone else. The blunt truth was, he could see no reason why they shouldn’t become lovers again.

  Of course, Faith wanted marriage. Price knew that. And children. And he wouldn’t be the man to give her those things. But still, she desired him; he saw that in those big brown eyes every time she looked at him.

  And, sweet heaven, he wanted her....

  He might as well be realistic about this. It was going to take awhile for this thing between them to run its course. And he couldn’t see why they shouldn’t enjoy that time. She could visit him at Montgomery House frequently. He knew she loved it there, and his family would be thrilled to have her back, even temporarily.

  And he wanted to go places with her. He and Marisa used to enjoy cruises and long vacations in the Bahamas and on Maui. And then, when Danny came along, they’d taken trips a little closer to home: to Disneyland and the Grand Canyon. But later, with both his wife and child gone, the idea of traveling had held no appeal.