Sharing Spaces

by Nadia Nichols

  One more week and she’d be gone. Having her here had been a tremendous boon. In fact, he had to admit that without her organizational capabilities and her experience in the lodging industry, he’d have been out in left field. She’d already called all the guests in the reservation book to reconfirm their reservations, and by doing this had discovered a cancellation, which left them with an empty room they had to fill for the last week of August. She’d immediately placed a call to the Labrador office of tourism, and to every other fishing lodge in Labrador, informing them of the unexpected vacancy, and by the end of the day she’d gotten a call back from a lodge on Eagle River with a referral to a repeat guest they’d had to turn down due to being fully booked. She immediately called the client, who lived in Great Britain, and just like that they were fully booked for the summer again.

  Meanwhile she was a dynamo putting the lodge together, making sure everything worked and everything was in sync. The guest rooms were beginning to look like actual guest rooms with all the amenities, including baskets of soaps and shampoo in the bathrooms which she insisted on. “Little touches make a big difference,” she argued when he objected to the additional cost. “Just because we’re in the middle of the wilderness doesn’t mean we can’t have some luxuries.”

  There were fresh flower arrangements each morning on the dining-room table, there being an abundance of wildflowers blooming on the slope below the main lodge. She organized the registration area, sold him on the idea of turning an extra wardrobe into a dry bar, kitty-cornered into the living room, where guests could mix their own drinks and help themselves to bar snacks. When he brought up the cost she shot him down again.

  “The cost should be built into your rates. These folks don’t want to be nickeled and dimed as they go. They want an all-inclusive package. They want the experience of a lifetime, and they want to share those experiences, especially their fishing stories, in front of the fireplace with a good glass of scotch. Are you going to be the bartender? I don’t think so. You’ll be comatose by 8:00 p.m. every night, trying to get enough sleep to make it through the next day. We’ll set up a good bar, keep it stocked, and let them help themselves from it.”

  She tried to enhance Gordina’s culinary skills by diplomatically offering to do different tasks in the kitchen, hoping to show by example how to put an excellent meal together, but Gordina was not to be swayed from her belief that she was already an outstanding cook and pointedly ignored Senna’s suggestions. Senna organized the laundry room and had Jack string a clothesline in back of the lodge. “No point in using the gas dryer if the sun’s shining, especially with that nice breeze. Every little bit of fuel we conserve is a little less we have to barge up the river. Besides, sheets dried in the sunshine smell sweeter than anything on earth.”

  Jack doubted they would smell sweeter than Senna’s hair, which made him want to turn and follow after her every time their paths crossed during the course of the day. And in truth, it wasn’t just the smell of her hair. He was beginning to get a little addicted to everything about her. The way she moved, the way she laughed, the way she argued constantly with him, even the way she defended Charlie’s crackie when Jack discovered it was Ula who was digging under the fence and eating Goody’s coopies. In three days the dozen that had originally been crated in had dwindled to a count of nine. Jack caught the little black dog quite by accident on the fourth night, when, making a trip to the outhouse behind the guides’ cabin, he heard a hen squawking.

  Flashlight in hand, he burst into the chicken coop and there she was, the bright-eyed black crackie, with one of Goody’s coopies dangling in her jaws, about to duck back through the fresh hole she’d dug beneath the fence. He’d let out a roar that brought both Charlie from the cabin and Senna from the lodge at a dead run. In his rage at the dog and at the long, hard and frustrating day he turned on Charlie.

  “A hunting dog that kills chickens is worse than useless. You should’ve kept her tied, like I told you to!”

  “She hates being tied,” Charlie cried out, his face taut with emotion, fingers curled through the dog’s collar. “She wants to be with me.”

  “Well, she wasn’t with you just now, was she? She was in here, killing Goody’s coopies!”

  Senna grabbed his arm and forced him to look at her. “Jack, calm down.”

  “A dog that kills chickens is no good,” Jack said, shrugging off Senna’s grip. “She’ll have to go. Leave her with your kin in North West River, Charlie, or get rid of her, if you can find a home for a dog that kills domestic livestock.”

  “Stop this talk!” Senna demanded, pushing between him and Charlie, her eyes flashing and her body rigid with anger. “If the dog couldn’t get into the coop, she wouldn’t kill the chickens, would she? You made a poor job of that fencing, John Hanson. That’s your fault, not Ula’s. Are you telling me your sled dogs wouldn’t be under that fence and eating those coopies if they got loose? Ha! Feathers would be flying. They’d kill them all for the sheer joy of it in the time it took for you to get out here, but would you get rid of them if they did? A dog is just a dog, but a man should be able to do a job right from the beginning. Fix that fence properly, and there’ll be no more problems with Goody’s coopies being killed.”

  Somehow she’d turned the whole massacre into his fault, heaping the deaths of four laying hens on his conscience, and the next morning he’d spent two hours resetting the wire fence a good foot below ground level and stacking rocks around the perimeter. Charlie helped without being prodded, and no more of Goody’s precious coopies had disappeared.

  What if Senna hadn’t been here for that? Jack rubbed the sleep from his face as he walked toward the dog yard carrying a bucket of kibble and then stopped abruptly, blinking with astonishment at the sight of Senna crouched beside his lead dog, Quinn, holding him steady while she checked on the five stitches she’d used to pull that nasty gash in his shoulder back together. He felt a sudden kick of gladness at how his day was starting. She rose to her feet as he approached. “Quinn’s healing up nicely,” she said, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. “So are you, judging by the way you’re holding that bucket with a hand that not too long ago would have passed for hamburger.”

  Jack grinned. “Good as new. You’re up pretty early for someone who nearly passed out at the supper table last night.”

  “That was a combination of Gordina’s cooking and the heat from the fireplace,” she said. “It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do. That, and a handful of aspirin. I’ll help feed the dogs, if you want.”

  “Glad to know I’m not the only one who considers aspirin one of the major food groups. Here, dish this food out and I’ll water. I’ve been thinking about that funny vibration in that hood vent in the kitchen. I should pull it apart and have a look before we open, the noise is pretty obnoxious, we don’t want to wake our guests at 5:00 a.m. with the breakfast start-up. I’ll probably finish cutting wood today if I get right after it. Charlie said he’d start splitting it and Wavey’s supposed to be altering the bed skirts. I don’t know how the measurements got that screwed up and to be honest I’m not even sure Wavey can sew but she’s Goody’s niece and I promised Goody when she agreed to be our cook that Wavey could spend the summer here helping her out, so even though Goody never came, it looks like we’re stuck with…”

  “Jack?”

  He stopped in the act of pouring water into a can attached to a dog house and glanced up questioningly. Senna had finished dishing out kibble and was standing in the middle of the dog yard, holding the empty food bucket with an unfathomable expression on her face. “Are you and Wavey involved? I know it’s none of my business, but from a guest’s perspective, we have to think about how things might appear. I mean, she’s very young.”

  Jack stood in shocked silence for several long moments, realizing that the morning, which had started out so full of promise, had suddenly turned sour on him. “Did I hear you right?” he said, speaking calmly in spite of the surge o
f anger that boiled through him. “You think I’m involved with Wavey?”

  At least Senna had the grace to blush. “I didn’t mean to pry, I only asked because… Well, the truth is, I’m just concerned that… It’s just that I don’t want anyone, any of our guests, that is, to think that… I mean, Wavey’s very young, and I just think…”

  “That your business partner is playing around with a very cute and very young housekeeper,” he said, nodding slowly. “You’re absolutely right to be concerned, and you’re absolutely right that it’s none of your business. We may be temporary partners in this enterprise, but my private life is none of your concern.”

  Senna’s color deepened. “I’m sorry if I offended you, but—”

  “And you know what?” His voice was hard. “Because I’m such a damned decent guy, I’m going to tell you right here and now that there’s nothing going on between Wavey and me. She’s here only because she’s Goody’s niece. Oh, excuse me, grand-niece. But we’re not involved, as you so delicately put it.”

  “I said I was sorry,” she repeated. “Maybe I was out of line to mention it. But regardless, we have just seven more days to get this lodge up and running, so instead of standing here and bickering, let’s just get to work, shall we?”

  She dropped the empty kibble bucket at his feet and swept past him without another word, behaving as if he’d been the one who’d started this foolish conversation about Wavey. He watched her go, confounded by how she always managed to turn things around, then lashed out at the bucket with his foot and cursed in such a manner that the sled dogs all watched him with cautious eyes and flattened ears.

  SENNA SKIPPED BREAKFAST because she couldn’t stand the thought of sitting at that table with Wavey and struggling to eat Gordina’s awful fare while Jack fixed her with that cool, sardonic stare of his. So instead she jumped right into the first thing on her agenda, which involved firing up the diesel generator, switching on the computer and entering each and every reservation written into the book, a job that would take most of the morning. She was sitting in the reception area doing this when the satellite phone rang.

  “Wolf River Lodge, this is Senna speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Senna?”

  “Tim?” Senna wondered how long this agony was going to go on. “How on earth did you get this number?”

  “Your mother gave it to me. I hope it’s all right if I call you there.”

  “Yes, of course. What’s up?”

  “I think I’ve found a buyer for the lodge,” Tim said.

  Senna’s grip on the phone tightened. “That’s…good news, Tim.”

  “His name is Earl Hammel. He’d like to come stay for a bit, see the place.”

  “That’s going to be a problem. We’re fully booked for the summer. Six rooms per night, seven nights a week. There aren’t any rooms available.”

  “Senna, this guy seems pretty serious about buying the lodge. It would be nice if he could stay there.”

  “That’s true, but surely the fact that we’re full in our start-up season will impress him.”

  “Actually, he’s interested in the lodge for personal and corporate use. Its business history doesn’t interest him. He’s in Europe right now but should be back soon. Senna, he could very well write a check for the entire property on the spot. He’s no lightweight. He’s a very wealthy man.”

  “That may be so, but Jack doesn’t want to sell his half of the business.”

  “He might if the price was right. Can you talk to him about this and get back to me as soon as possible? I promised Earl I’d let him know.”

  “Okay, I’ll run it by him.” Senna knew she should be glad that Tim had found a buyer so quickly. If Jack agreed to sell his half of the business, which would be a miracle no matter what Earl Hammel offered for a price, then Gordina and Wavey could return to Goose Bay and she could go home to Maine. But instead of feeling grateful at this sudden turn of events, she was sitting here on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

  There was a pause on the other end. “Look, Senna, I’m sorry if I’m overstepping my bounds. I thought you’d be happy about this.”

  “I’m grateful for your help, Tim, I just don’t think Jack will go along with it. But I promise I’ll talk to him. Thanks for calling.”

  “Will you call me back with his answer?”

  “Yes, of course I will.”

  “I miss you, Senna.”

  “Tim…”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Senna massaged her aching temples after hanging up and sat for a few minutes, collecting her thoughts. She heard the old plane’s motor start up and pushed out of her chair, moving to the window to stare down toward the river. Jack hadn’t mentioned flying anywhere today. He was supposed to be cutting and splitting wood and making sure the kitchen fan in the stove hood was functioning properly. He had a lot on his plate, yet he was taxiing around the river bend, and not long afterward she heard him open the throttle for his take-off run.

  Senna turned back to the registration area and then had a sudden thought. Maybe he was taking Wavey back to Goose Bay as a result of their early-morning argument. She went into the kitchen where Gordina was washing up the breakfast dishes. “Gordina, where was Jack going?”

  “Didn’t say.” Gordina still hadn’t forgiven her for not allowing her to smoke inside and refused to look her in the eye or even glance in her general direction.

  “Where’s Wavey?”

  “In the laundry room working on the bed skirts.”

  Senna was torn between disappointment and relief. It would be good to have the girl gone, but who would fill her position? “I think we should work on some sample menus after lunch,” she said to Gordina. “We need to firm up the meal planning and make sure we have all the provisions we need.”

  Gordina made no reply, and Senna bit her lower lip to keep from saying something she might regret. She returned to the registration computer, where she spent the rest of the morning entering data. By the time she heard the plane returning she was more than ready to stretch her legs and make amends with her business partner. She was standing on the dock, Chilkat beside her, when Jack taxied up. Charlie and the crackie were with him. Charlie jumped out and tied off the plane, then he and the small black dog galloped up the ramp toward the lodge. Jack jumped out onto the pontoon, then turned, reached into the plane and picked up a crate. He set it on the dock and retrieved a total of four more. Two of them were wooden and stamped with a vineyard’s logo.

  “Our start-up liquor supply,” he said by way of explanation. “I brought everything that was stored in the cellar at the lake house, along with the rest of the dog food, and everything that was in the freezers. The plane’s pretty full.”

  “You might have told someone where you were going, and that you were taking Charlie with you,” Senna said.

  “Sorry about that, but you were having a bad morning and I guess I was, too.” He looked around, a suspicious frown gathering. “Where the hell’s Charlie disappeared to so quick? This stuff’s heavy.”

  Senna couldn’t help but laugh. “Good thing I’m strong, isn’t it? Let’s get started. We have some important things to discuss over lunch.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  BY THE TIME THEY’D LUGGED everything up the steep ramp, most of Senna’s pent-up frustration had been worked out of her and she was just plain tired and hungry. Gordina had fixed a lunch of cabbage-and-potato soup. Wavey had already eaten and Charlie was nowhere to be found. Senna and Jack sat at one end of the big dining-room table and dipped into the bowls Gordina set before them. The broth was watery and tasteless, and both the potatoes and shredded cabbage could have used a lot more cooking time to soften them up. As soon as Gordina had left the room, Jack caught Senna’s eye.

  “Queasy,” he admitted.

  Senna dropped her spoon with a clatter and pushed her bowl aside. “This soup is hardly fit to feed Goody’s coopies. What are we going to do?
Gordina’s the main event, and nothing she’s prepared so far has been remotely edible. She refuses to take any suggestions from me, so tutoring is out. We need to sit down with her and go through a meal-planning session. One week’s worth of breakfast, lunch and dinner. We’ll write it all down so she knows exactly what she’s going to be preparing each day, I’ll outline the recipes, and we’ll prepare a shopping list. We need to get everything stocked up before the guests arrive….”

  “Calm down,” Jack soothed as if she were an irrational child.

  Senna rocked forward in her chair. “Don’t tell me to calm down. This whole thing is shaping up to be a disaster!”

  Jack slouched back in his seat, raising his arms in a gesture of surrender. “Okay then, go ahead, get all riled up,” he said. “Fly off the handle, if it’ll make you feel any better.”

  “Don’t patronize me!”

  “Patronize you?” He leaned forward, shoving his bowl aside. “Woman, I adore you for what you’ve done around here,” he said, his words so unexpected that Senna was momentarily speechless. “Everything,” he continued with an all-encompassing wave of his arm. “The admiral designed the place and I helped him build it, but it took you to bring this lodge to life. Flying back here today, all I could think of was what if you hadn’t come at all? As much as we squabble and disagree about everything, you’re definitely the runner carrying the torch to light the Olympic flame. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m damned glad you’re here, and if you want to get histrionic on me, you’re more than deserving of it. I know I’m not that easy to work with.”

  Senna met his intense gaze and all the barbed words she’d been about to fling in his direction died a sudden death. She sat in silence.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You said we had some important things to discuss over lunch,” he prompted. “I’m all ears, and not only that, I promise to behave myself.”