One Word

by Anne Barwell

  “Sounds like a sign from above that it’s time for a new one,” Ethan said.

  “If wishes were horses,” Donovan said. “Unfortunately it’s not high on the priority list, and I don’t mind doing dishes the old-fashioned way.” While it was true he didn’t mind doing them, it wasn’t one of his favorite chores either. He began running water in the sink. “If you don’t mind me saying so, I was impressed with the way you handled Mikey earlier. Usually he grumbles all the way through his homework, but a couple of minutes working with you, and he was enjoying the challenge.”

  “I like working with kids, but I don’t often get the chance to do it one-on-one like that. I’ve got a couple of real troublemakers in my class this term, and they’re sucking the joy out of teaching.” Ethan got up from the table and helped himself to the tea towel hanging off the front of the oven door. Donovan had noticed that, despite Ethan’s earlier determination to focus on the information he’d been given about Tomas and Cathal, once Mikey had started talking about his math homework, the folder had quickly been put to one side. “He’s a good kid. Very smart, although I get the impression he hides it. He’s got some real talent with his art. Have his parents ever thought of arranging classes for him?”

  “Mikey doesn’t like to draw attention to it. I talked to him once about it, and he clammed up. Usually he doesn’t share his art and only sketches for his grandfather.” Donovan swished the soapy water around with a dish brush and got to work. “He wants to find Cat, so I think that’s motivation. He clicked with the guy, and that doesn’t happen often. Mikey’s got the reputation of being an outsider.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Why? He’s certainly not shy, and his family’s been here awhile, yes? It’s not like he’s new here.”

  Like you are. Although Ethan hadn’t spoken the words, Donovan still heard them loud and clear.

  “Yeah, Edward’s—Mikey’s dad’s—family has been here since before the turn of the century. Twentieth, not twenty-first that is,” Donovan said. “He’s a good guy. Runs the local post office. Mikey’s mom died when he was a baby, so Edward raised the kid on his own. He’s done a good job with him.”

  Ethan stacked dishes as he dried them, shifting them as he went so they were in order of size and shape.

  “I heard they had to sell the house because they’d fallen on hard times and couldn’t afford to keep it,” Donovan continued. “The people who bought it converted it into an inn.” Dishes finished, he walked over to the pantry and pulled out the cat biscuits.

  “You have a cat?” Ethan asked. “I don’t remember seeing one.” He didn’t miss much and didn’t hesitate to ask when he wanted to know stuff either. He reminded Donovan of Tomas in that, although Ethan was better at the social graces than his friend.

  “Yeah, though no one’s seen her since the night of the storm about a week ago. Give me a minute?” Donovan opened the back door, then kept it open with one foot while he refilled the empty cat saucer. “I think it’s one of the neighbor’s cats eating these biscuits, but Heidi insists on refilling it night and morning, just in case. She loves that cat and is convinced she’ll be back.”

  “She’s sticking to routine because if she stops, it will be admitting the cat is gone?”

  “Yeah.” Donovan shrugged. “Blackthorn showed up about the time we bought the inn, so she’s always been a part of our lives here.” It wasn’t just Blackthorn Heidi was clinging to. They both knew the inn wasn’t doing well financially, and losing the cat seemed too much like a symbol for the change neither of them wanted. Donovan wasn’t about to tell Heidi that, though, so he played along and kept leaving food out for the cat.

  “Blackthorn’s one of the characters in Tomas’s books,” Ethan said. “Where do these glasses live?”

  Donovan opened the crockery cupboard for Ethan, then wiped down the counter. “Yeah. Heidi’s a fan. She was way excited about one of her favorite authors coming to stay here.” Donovan sighed. “Neither of us expected him to go missing.”

  “Do you think his disappearance will impact the inn?” Ethan asked. He finished putting away the dishes, adjusting the stacks of plates minutely after he added the last one so they remained evenly spaced.

  Definitely an “everything in its place” kind of guy.

  “I hope not.” Donovan shrugged. At this point it probably wasn’t going to make that much difference. Crunch time was fast approaching, and both of them were going to need to find another source of income. Although he’d managed to find laboring work last summer while Heidi ran the inn, it wasn’t enough, and neither were the knitted crafts and preserves Heidi made to sell at the local monthly craft market. Heidi loved the inn, and Donovan was determined to find a way to avoid her having to give it up. “We’re coming into winter, and that’s always been slow. Summer’s much better.”

  “I feel bad about not paying my way,” Ethan said. “I know you said Tomas has paid for his room and he’s not using it, but you’ve put me in a different room.”

  “You’re our only guest at present, so there’s no shortage. I figured it was better to leave Tomas’s room untouched.” Donovan had moved Tomas’s backpack in there too, but he’d shut down his laptop. No point in leaving it running.

  “He didn’t take anything with him, did he?” Ethan frowned. “I glanced in the room earlier. He left behind everything I would have expected him to take with him if he’d taken off… willingly.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Donovan admitted. He put on a pot of fresh coffee to brew. “He was in a hell of a mood that day too. Really upset about Cat. Heidi had to convince him we didn’t want him to leave. He offered to, but we told him it was fine. He was going through a rough patch, and we understood. He grabbed his jacket, went outside to yell at the oak, and never came back.”

  “That sounds like Tomas,” Ethan said. “He’s not good with people, and it doesn’t take much for him to convince himself he’s not wanted. We’ve had a good few arguments over it when he’s got the wrong end of the stick.” He shrugged. “Despite all that, he’s a good friend and loyal to a fault at times.” It was impossible to miss the affection in Ethan’s voice. “I’m not ready to lose him yet. I need to read through the folder again in the morning and work out what I’m going to do.”

  “I haven’t given up yet either,” Donovan said. He hoped Tomas realized how good a friend Ethan was. “You said yourself there’s always an explanation. I figure we just have to find it.”

  “Yeah.” Ethan ran his hands through his hair. “Do you mind if I make some tea and take it up to my room? I’m going to read for bit. Do you have a password for your Wi-Fi?”

  “Sure, no problem.” Donovan pulled down the teapot and topped up the water in the kettle. He grabbed a piece of paper off the counter and scribbled on it. “That’s the password. If you have any issues connecting, let me know. It comes up as ‘crossroads’ on the list of networks, so you shouldn’t have any problems finding it.”

  “Thanks.” Ethan indicated the teapot. “I saw some chamomile and apple tea in the cupboard. I’m happy with one of those teabags if that’s okay. I’m not one of those purists who only drinks tea made in a pot.”

  Donovan grinned, unable to resist teasing him. “There’s coffee if you’d prefer that.”

  Ethan pulled a face. “Don’t you start,” he said. “Tea is fine. I’ll even make it myself.” His expression sobered. “I don’t want to be a bother, and I do appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown me. I didn’t expect either of you to go that extra mile and make me feel at home like this.”

  “It’s all part of the service,” Donovan said. “That’s our motto, you know. Home away from home.” It had been Heidi’s idea, and the customers they did have seemed to appreciate it. They just needed some way to help spread the word. All the usual ads had only gone so far, and although they’d had plenty of hits on their website, it hadn’t made much difference to the number of customers they’d gotten.

  “That sums it up ver
y well,” Ethan said. He poured boiling water over one of the tea bags he’d helped himself to. “My phone should be charged again too, so I’m going to give Kathleen a call. It’s probably a good thing she couldn’t come here herself. She wanted to, but Grant, her partner, talked her out of it. She’s a force to be reckoned with and very protective of her baby brother.”

  “She and Heidi would probably get on like a house on fire,” Donovan said.

  “Exactly, although I’m not sure whether I should be terrified by that thought or not.” The side of Ethan’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Thanks again for dinner. If there’s any more news, knock on my door. I don’t care what time it is, okay?”

  “Sure,” Donovan said.

  Once Ethan had disappeared upstairs, Donovan poured himself a cup of coffee. Heidi wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours. That gave him plenty of time to lose himself in the pages of the book he was reading. He was in just the mood for a decent action story, and this one actually got its weaponry right. It was past annoying when he got to the showdown and the hero kept firing bullets at the bad guys long after he should have run out, or at least reloaded. As habits went, counting bullets wasn’t terrible, and had saved his life on a few occasions, but it did suck the joy out of reading when the author got it wrong.

  It was weird, the habits he’d kept and the reactions he couldn’t get rid of, while others he’d thought would linger had disappeared without a fight.

  The phone ringing interrupted his train of thought. He picked it up and shoved the annoyance out of his voice. “Good evening. Crossroads Inn. You’re speaking with Donovan.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Campbell,” a woman’s voice said. He didn’t recognize it, so waited for her to introduce herself. “My name is Jane Fitzgerald. I’m filling in for Mr. Wren while he’s away.”

  “Bob’s away?” Donovan hoped the guy was okay. He liked Bob; he didn’t pull punches, but he was up-front and had always worked with them to find a way through any problems.

  “Yes, there was an unexpected cancellation, so he was able to get his hip replacement operation sooner than he expected.” Jane paused. “I do hope this isn’t going to be a problem for you. I assure you I am an experienced banking officer and only want the best outcome for both you and the bank. We pride ourselves on taking care of our customers.”

  “It’s fine. Do you want us to come into town for the appointment tomorrow?” Donovan asked. Bob had intended to come out to see them. He liked interacting with his customers on their home turf to put them at ease, and the bank did offer a mobile service.

  “Is there any reason why you want to change the location of our meeting so it’s at the bank?” Although Jane still sounded professional, it was difficult to miss the edge of disapproval in her voice. “According to his appointment book, the original arrangement was that he’d meet you at the inn.”

  “Don’t worry, the inn’s still standing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I would hope so, considering the mortgage on it,” Jane said frostily.

  “I assure you we’re fully insured,” Donovan answered, cooling his tone to match hers. “It was a joke, Miss—”

  “Ms.,” Jane corrected him.

  “Ms. Fitzgerald,” Donovan said, not missing a beat. If she’d decided to leave her sense of humor wherever she’d come from, he wouldn’t bother wasting time on small talk with her. This was already shaping up to be the meeting from hell. While Donovan was glad Bob had managed to get his hip fixed earlier, he wasn’t looking forward to doing business with his replacement. “We’ll see you at ten sharp, then, shall we?” He deliberately paused before continuing. “And don’t worry; we’ll have all the paperwork ready for you before you get here.”

  “As will I,” Jane said. “I’m looking forward to meeting you and seeing your lovely inn. Good evening, Mr. Campbell.”

  “Bitch,” Donovan muttered at the phone once she’d gone.

  She’s only doing her job. Don’t judge someone on one phone call.

  Donovan sighed. When the hell had he started internalizing Heidi? Nevertheless, he wasn’t in the mood for reading now. No, this called for something more… hands on.

  He headed for the back door, then remembered Ethan was upstairs. He’d better not leave the door unlocked either, with those bank robbers on the loose.

  A quick note left on the counter, with the spare key, solved both problems. Donovan picked up his cup of coffee, fished his keys out of his pocket, and locked the back door behind him.

  ETHAN CLOSED his book and placed it on his bedside cabinet. He’d had enough of reading for the evening—not that he’d been focused on the story, despite it being the latest by Lee Child, who was one of his favorite authors. However, he’d needed to read something that at least sounded feasible after wading through the files Donovan had given him.

  He got up, stretched, and wandered over to the window. It was completely dark outside apart from a glow coming from one of the buildings a short distance away from the main house. His curiosity piqued, Ethan grabbed his empty teacup and made his way down the stairs.

  “Donovan?” he called, but there was no reply. He doubted Heidi was home yet, as he hadn’t heard her Land Rover.

  Someone—Donovan presumably—had left the light on in the kitchen, although it was empty. Ethan glanced around for any hint of where Donovan might be and noticed the note and key on the bench. The key was old-fashioned, like most of the house. He suspected the inn hadn’t changed much in the last hundred years, and for him, that was part of its charm. Thankfully, the heating was decent, and the kitchen had modern appliances. He’d also spotted a state-of-the-art entertainment center in the living room, with rows of DVDs lining the wall either side of it.

  “If you need me, I’m in the room off the old stables,” Ethan read aloud. Donovan had left a torch next to the key. There was a rough map with it too, which was helpful, as he had no clue where the old stables were and probably would have gone in the opposite direction.

  While he didn’t actually “need” Donovan, Ethan had had enough of his own company and figured that amounted to the same thing. He peered out the window and judged the distance between the house and the stables. It wasn’t much of a dash, and he was still wearing his jersey, so he’d make do without his coat. Given the cold, it was doubtful Donovan would be somewhere without heating.

  Ethan closed the back door behind him, locked it, and pocketed the key. It didn’t take him long to reach the old stables. He could tell they hadn’t housed horses for years, although they were clean and tidy. After walking through them, he realized the X on his map actually indicated a door to the side of the stables, so he backtracked, feeling a little sheepish, and knocked on the door.

  “Who’s there?” Donovan called.

  “It’s Ethan.”

  The door opened. Donovan lowered the baseball bat he was gripping with both hands.

  “Better to be safe than sorry,” he said. “Please, come in.”

  “As long as you’re not going to whack me over the head with the deadly bat,” Ethan said. “I can think of better ways to go.”

  Donovan grinned. “Nah,” he said. “We’re good.” He nodded toward the house. “You’ve locked it?”

  “Yes,” Ethan said. It had never occurred to him to carry a weapon. Not that it would have done any good, as he had no experience in defending himself. Tomas had always teased him that he’d have to overpower an assailant with logic and talk them into submission. “I’ve got the key with me.”

  He glanced around the room. It wasn’t anything like he’d expected, although he hadn’t really given much thought to what Donovan might be doing out there. A workbench lined one side of it, with tools hanging on the walls or lying neatly on shelves above it. Various lengths of timber were stored on the opposite wall, and wood carvings in different stages of completion sat on a circular table next to the other wall.

  “Wow,” he said finally. “These are amazing. Do you min
d if I take a closer look?”

  “Sure.” Donovan ducked his head, as though embarrassed. “I haven’t had any formal training or anything, but the guy who taught me said I had potential. Even so, I didn’t do any for a while after—I took it up again a few years ago because I enjoy it.”

  “You made all of these?” Ethan picked up a tiny cat figurine. The detail was intricate, and the expression on its face reminded Ethan of a cat he’d once owned. Or rather, had owned him. He’d noticed the way Donovan had changed direction suddenly when he’d been talking, but he wasn’t about to call him on it. If he wanted to talk about it, he would, and it wasn’t as though they knew each other that well. Yet. Despite Ethan’s determination to stay clear of romance, he couldn’t help but feel Donovan might be someone he’d like to get to know better.

  “Yeah.” Donovan shrugged. “I like to keep busy, and it fills in time when I can’t find work. I’ve sold a few, but not enough to make a decent income.” He picked up a walking stick. The handle was a dog’s head. Other sticks featured different animals. “These are quite popular with the tourists. Tricia’s sold a few at the Worthington for me.”

  “The Worthington?”

  “The local pub.”

  Ethan took the walking stick Donovan handed him. “You’re very talented. There’s nothing wrong in admitting that, you know.”

  “If you say so.” Donovan blushed. He cleared his throat. “I see you found my note. Was there something you needed?”

  “Just some company for a bit,” Ethan admitted. “I’m avoiding my own thoughts at present. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you.” He reluctantly put down the walking stick. “For a guy who hasn’t a single artistic bone in his body, I must admit I have a weakness for the stuff. I love watching artists at work.”

  “I’m no artist.” Donovan frowned. “Did someone tell you that?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “About not being artistic yourself?”

  “Yes. Duncan could—” Ethan stopped himself just in time. “This is beautiful, not just beautiful, but breathtaking. It’s a mirror, right?”