Bitterroot Queen

by Jove Belle

  By the time she finished on the phone, she’d need some sort of therapy. Schlepping boxes around would be the perfect solution. At this point, the container was about half empty. They’d brought in all the boxes labeled “bathroom,” “Sam’s bedroom,” “Beth’s room,” along with most of the “kitchen” boxes. That left far too many “living room” and “misc” boxes. Beth was dangerously close to finishing her mural, the last domino that needed to fall before the carpet could come up. Instead of waiting, Sam would bring the boxes into the motel lobby and sort them there. The container could then be picked up and Sam could mark it off of her list of expenses. Good. She had a plan.

  ∞

  “Come on, Ramp.” Olly patted the side of her leg. A sandwich would have been nice, but she wasn’t really hungry yet. Besides, she’d made a deal with herself that she would finish the back side of the shrubs before taking a food break. She had at least an hour, maybe two, before that would happen.

  She did take a moment to drink some water and dump her flannel into the Scout. She’d started off cool that morning, but was sweating way too much now. She stripped off the tank top, too, leaving her only in her razorback sports bra.

  “What do you think? Should we stay in Bitterroot for a while?” Her initial panicked urge to run away had settled to the back of her mind. Bitterroot spoke to her in a way she’d never before experienced.

  Rampart looked up at her, his eyes full of devotion and a sincere curiosity.

  “Is that a yes or no?”

  Rampart barked once and wagged his tail.

  “You like it here?” She took another drink of water and checked Rampart’s bowl. It was still half full, but she didn’t want him to run out. She dumped the last of hers in to top it off.

  Rampart barked again and sat down.

  “George is a pretty good guy. And Bitterroot feels really good. Doesn’t it?”

  That morning, over eggs and toast, George had offered her the use of his spare bedroom. More than that, he didn’t freak out when she stiffened and didn’t answer immediately. He was a gruff, crusty old guy, but he totally got her. She couldn’t remember that ever happening with anyone else. As further evidence, he had brushed off the offer and replaced it by saying she could use the loft in the barn, if she wanted, and convert it into an apartment.

  The whole thing filled her with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth. In some far recess of her mind, she was almost willing to call it a feeling of home. Since she’d never really had that, she couldn’t say for sure. But it felt good. Not scary. Not like a trap. There was a ton of work to do here at the motel. Maybe while she was doing that, she’d give the loft a test run. Maybe pick up some furniture. Did Bitterroot have a Craigslist? Or was that bulletin board their version of online postings? Probably.

  “What do you say, tonight, after we finish up here, let’s set up the hammock in the loft and spend the night up there? We’ll have to figure something out for stairs. That ladder is a little steep for you.”

  Rampart barked agreeably in response.

  She put her water bottle in the Scout, adjusted her hat, and tucked the wayward strands of hair back up under it before she returned to the hedge.

  She worked at a steady pace, stopping occasionally to check that her edges were straight. A line of shrubbery that was pruned wider in some spots and narrower in others would be tragic, and she didn’t want Sam to think she’d hired the wrong person, especially not when she was contemplating an extended stay in Bitterroot. She needed the work if that was going to happen, and there was plenty of that at the Queen.

  When she was about halfway down the length of the hedge, an oversized Chevy truck pulled into the lot and a tall woman got out. She wore denim jeans and her legs seemed to go on forever. Her hair was cut short and combed back on the sides, and she wore a tank top similar to the one Olly had abandoned earlier.

  She smiled and walked toward Olly rather than the entrance to the lobby. “Hi. You must be Olly. I’m Karen, a friend of Sam and Beth.” She extended her hand.

  Olly wiped the sweat and dirt from her palm onto her jeans and shook her hand.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Rampart stood at attention at Olly’s side, watching Karen. He wasn’t on alert, but he wasn’t relaxed, either. “This is Rampart.”

  Karen knelt and offered him her hand to sniff. Then, after he seemed satisfied, she patted him on the head. “Hey, guy. Nice to meet you, too. Beth told me all about you.” She scratched Rampart behind his ears one more time and then stood.

  “Looks like you’re making some good progress here.” As Karen spoke, she surveyed Olly’s work and nodded thoughtfully.

  “I do my best.”

  Karen held herself in a tight, controlled manner and gave off a decidedly male energy. Plus, Olly’s gaydar was pinging madly. Another lesbian. Another plus in the pro column for Bitterroot.

  “I’m on my way into work and just wanted to stop by and say hi.”

  The way Karen lingered an extra moment or two made Olly wonder if she’d meant to say hi to Sam or if she was just there to check Olly out.

  Olly shuffled her feet, uncomfortable with the feeling that she was being sized up. “Okay, well, I’ll get back to work.” She held up the pruning shears as if that explained everything. “It was, um, nice to meet you.”

  Karen laughed and said, “Same here.” With that, she turned and went to the lobby. Olly went back to work, a little unsettled, but glad that Bitterroot seemed to have more gay people than she ever would have suspected.

  ∞

  “Ugh,” Beth said as she handed Sam yet another box labeled “misc.” They’d been working for an hour, give or take, moving boxes into the reception area, and there were only a few boxes left in the container.

  “Hey, I’ll take that.” Karen dropped a kiss on Sam’s cheek and took the box in one smooth motion.

  “What are you doing here?” Sam picked up another box and followed Karen inside. They’d propped the door open for easy access. Beth followed.

  “Just stopped by on my way to work. I can’t stay.” Karen set the “misc” box on top of a stack of “living room” boxes.

  “Sheesh.” Beth set her box on the correct stack and then relocated Karen’s.

  Karen punched Beth’s shoulder, a light, teasing shot. “Sorry ’bout that.”

  “Whatever.” Beth rolled her eyes, but couldn’t quite hide her smile. She headed back to the container for another load.

  Sam turned to Karen and pulled her into a deeper kiss. “I’m glad you’re here, even for a minute.”

  “I’ll help you with the last of the boxes, then I have to run.”

  Two more trips back and forth and the container was officially empty. Sam walked Karen to her truck, kissed her goodbye, and then followed Beth inside.

  “I need to finish some school stuff,” Beth announced as they cleared the threshold, as though she thought Sam had some complicated and sinister plan to distract her.

  “Good.” Sam studied the boxes.

  After arranging pickup of the moving pod, Sam went to check on Olly. She was finishing up the back side of the shrubbery. There were several small piles of trimmings lined up on the sidewalk in front of the hedge.

  “This looks pretty good.”

  “Thanks.” Olly removed her cap and wiped sweat from her brow with her arm. “I love stuff like this. Taking something that’s all wild and in disarray and turning it into something neat and orderly. It’s satisfying.”

  “I never thought of it that way.” Sam caught herself staring at Olly’s arms, at how her tattoos interacted with the bulge and taper of her muscles. It was captivating. Apparently, she was into tattoos. This was news to her.

  Olly shrugged and dropped her hand to her side. Rampart was there immediately, nudging her for pats. Olly scratched his head absently. “I don’t really care what the job is, so long as I can see my progress at the end of the day.”

  “What’s the plan for all this?”
Sam gestured toward the debris. Sure, Olly had mentioned a compost bin, but Sam really had no idea what that meant in terms of practical execution.

  “That depends on you. I can put it in the dumpster when it arrives, or I could set it aside for now and build a compost bin later on.”

  “Okay, do that.”

  “Sure thing.” Olly shifted her weight from foot to foot as though standing still was unnatural to her. “Do you need me to do something else? Or can I start on the beds?” She jerked her chin down to indicate the weeds at their feet. Even with the time Sam had spent out here, there were still far too many things growing in the planter beds that shouldn’t be there.

  “Actually, can I get your help inside for a minute? It’s time to tackle the carpet in the living room.”

  “Sure.” Olly led the way to the entrance, her gait a confident, loping movement that held an almost wild, kinetic energy. Once again, she held the door open for Sam with a polite nod and a smile. Rampart sat just outside the door without being told. Good dog.

  “Thanks.” Sam ducked inside, pausing just long enough to return Olly’s smile.

  The entry from the office into the apartment was filled with empty boxes that needed to be broken down. Without asking, Olly picked one up and flipped open a knife that somehow made it from her back pocket to her hand without so much as a flash of metal. She cut the taped edges and flattened the box. She picked up a second, all the while watching Sam with a polite look on her face.

  “What do you need help with?”

  Sam laughed. “The boxes, apparently.”

  Olly finished the second box and dropped it on top of the first. “I like to keep my hands busy, but I can stop.” She stared at Sam, her gaze deep and penetrating, as if she were looking for a greater meaning that went beyond boxes and shrubs. For a moment, Sam was captivated, but then Olly smiled and laughed self-consciously and the spell, as it were, was broken. Sam turned to face the living area, her back to Olly.

  “Any suggestions for this carpet?” She swept her hand out in an expansive gesture. Now, in addition to the strange, thankfully unidentifiable stains, the floor was also speckled with various shades of paint.

  “Well,” Olly drew the word out. “Clearly, this carpet needs to come out. I can do that pretty quick, if you want.”

  “That would be great, but what about after that?”

  “What do you mean?” Olly’s voice was louder this time, closer. Just over Sam’s left shoulder.

  “What do I do for a floor after the carpet is taken up?”

  “Depends on what we find. This place was built in the forties, so there’s likely hardwood in here, same as the bedrooms.”

  “That would be great.” Pleased at the prospect, Sam whipped around to face Olly, who was closer than expected. Olly took a startled step back, and Sam blushed and put a hand on her arm to steady her.

  “Yes, it would.”

  “Do you think it’s oak?”

  Olly frowned, clearly thinking. “In this area? More likely to find Hemlock or some sort of fir. Maybe cedar, but that would be weird.”

  Sam hadn’t realized there were options beyond oak when it came to hardwood floors. “Huh. What’s in the bedrooms? Will it be the same here?”

  “Hemlock, and this is likely to be the same. It makes sense for the era.”

  “What about the guest rooms?” Sam asked, on the verge of being excited.

  “The same, probably.”

  Fizzy, happy energy sparked inside her. This was the best news she’d had in weeks. Not that she had a clue about dealing with hardwood. Thankfully, it seemed as though Olly knew what to do—just like everything else so far. Whatever the process, it had to be cheaper than installing new carpet in each room. And it was prettier.

  “So how do we remove this?” Sam should have paid attention when Olly pulled up the carpet in the bedrooms, but the job had been gross and Olly hadn’t pressed her to help.

  Olly picked up another box. “First, we have to clear the floor.” She broke down that box and started on the next. “Do you have plans for these boxes?”

  “Dumpster?”

  She shook her head, an amused smile growing on her face. “No, don’t do that. I’ll take care of them.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Cardboard makes excellent compost, after the tape is removed, obviously.”

  Nothing about that was obvious, but Sam smiled and nodded and set to work clearing Beth’s paint supplies out of the corner. As she shuffled everything to the back patio, a half-empty pack of cigarettes fell out of a canvas bag full of paint brushes. She slipped the pack into her pocket. Beth might have others, but now, at least, she didn’t have these.

  “Okay, what’s next?”

  Olly had finished with the boxes and moved the stack of flattened cardboard into the lobby.

  “Now we pull.”

  She flipped that knife open again, and Beth stepped out of her room at the same moment. “Whoa there, killer. No weapons on school property,” Beth said as she held up her hands in mock fear.

  Olly laughed. Not the reserved, semi-polite laugh that she afforded Sam. This laugh was deep and rich and moved through her whole body. It was startling and breathtaking at the same time.

  “You’re just in time, kid. We’re getting ready to commit homicide on the carpet.”

  “’Bout time. It’s been asking for it since we got here.” Beth smiled, full of teeth and sweetness.

  “It’s usually best to start in a doorway or at a wall,” Olly said, her voice full of amusement. “So, here is good.” She indicated the break between the kitchen and living room.

  The floor in the kitchen wasn’t much better, Sam thought. It had what looked to be the original linoleum floor, worn and cracked and pulling up at the corners. Carpet first, though.

  Olly knelt and slipped her knife under the edge of the carpet. With small, controlled motions, she loosened the tacks. Eventually, when she had the whole seam undone, she gripped the carpet and stood. It came away from the floor easily, with a loud crackling and tearing sound.

  “Now we roll it up.” Olly pointed toward the sliding glass door on the other side of the room.

  Sam moved in line with Olly and motioned for Beth to help. With the three of them working together, the carpet was easy to maneuver. Rolling it, however, disturbed all the latent funk and whatever else that had built up in it over the years.

  “This is nasty.” Beth grimaced and turned her face away.

  “It’s definitely not awesome,” Olly agreed, also grimacing. She pushed ahead, outpacing both Sam and Beth. Occasionally, the sides of the carpet got held up, and Olly moved from side to side, pulling it free from the strip of nails that held it down, which made her muscles flex in really fabulous ways.

  Sam was so distracted by this view that she didn’t notice that Beth had fallen way behind until she said, “Mom...”

  Sam turned. Beth sat flat on the floor, hand on her stomach, face pale.

  “What’s wrong?” Sam moved to her side.

  “I don’t feel so great.”

  “Bathroom.” Sam urged Beth to her feet and nudged her in that direction.

  Beth closed the door behind her, and the sound of retching followed.

  “Wow. What’s up with her?” Olly had stopped working and stood with her hands loose at her side, a confused expression on her face.

  “Maybe the smell of the carpet.”

  “Possible.” Olly regarded the carpet doubtfully, as if she couldn’t understand but wasn’t prepared to argue about it.

  Beth appeared in the bathroom doorway. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m going to lie down for a minute, okay?”

  Sam started to follow her, but Beth waved her off. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” There were few things that made Sam feel as helpless as when her daughter was ill, especially if she didn’t understand why. She waited until Beth had retreated t
o her room then continued working. She and Olly removed the rest of the carpet and then dragged it out of the building to the dumpster via the lobby.

  “This was pretty simple,” Sam said. “Gross, but simple.”

  “Most things are easier to remove than to put up in the first place.”

  Back in the apartment, Olly stared at the wood floor. As far as Sam could tell, it was in decent shape. But she wasn’t an expert.

  “What do you think?” Sam asked as she stood next to her, trying to figure out how she saw the floor. For instance, did she appreciate the beauty, or did she only see the work needed to make it even more beautiful?

  “Yeah, I love being able to breathe new life into something old and neglected, like these floors.”

  “I never really thought about it.” Sam had spent too much time in Vegas, where everything was flashy and disposable.

  Olly looked at her, an idea taking form on her face. “How do you feel about reclaimed materials? On my drive into Bitterroot, I passed a hotel in Missoula slated for demolition. It’s derelict, but still gorgeous. I could talk to the contractor about pulling some stuff out of there. I bet he’d go for it. They usually do.”

  “You’ve done that before?”

  “Once or twice. It’s fun, actually.”

  Sam didn’t know how she felt about reclaimed material, but she was learning to trust Olly. That was enough. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

  “Awesome. I’ll see what I can do to make that happen.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket and checked the time. “For now, though, it’s getting pretty late. Do you want me to remove those tack strips tonight? Or wait until tomorrow morning?”

  Sam sighed. She wanted them gone now, but didn’t want to keep Olly from her life, either.