“This is the best breakup I’ve ever had.”
“I know, right?” Tara said, sounding cheerful. “We’re pretty awesome.”
“We are.”
Rosalie thought about saying something in the vein of wishing Tara well in finding a new girlfriend, but she refrained. It would probably have sounded condescending.
“I hope some lesbians show up in Ashhawk soon,” Tara said, signaling it was time to wrap up the call. “I’ll call you when I drop by your place tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
The door of the lobby opened, bells clanging against the glass as Alex walked in, sweaty and flushed from the heat. When she saw Rosalie was on the phone, she walked over to the water cooler and filled a cup with cold water.
“You’re welcome to take anything that isn’t spoiled out of the fridge,” Rosalie said to Tara, watching Alex.
“Will do. I better get going,” Tara said.
Rosalie figured Tara didn’t have anywhere to be but knew they both wanted to end the conversation—and relationship—on a good note.
“Okay. Thanks for calling. And for everything else.”
“No problem,” Tara said. “Talk to you soon.”
“Bye.”
Rosalie hung up the phone, feeling a weight lift as she set the phone down. She looked up at Alex.
“What’s up?” Rosalie asked, wishing Alex had walked in a few minutes later so she could collect herself.
“Came in to get some water and tell you I figured out why the sinks are breaking,” Alex said.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Alex took a few slow steps toward the counter. She held up a plastic ring that looked worn. “The threads on these nuts are crap. Whoever put them in didn’t know a lot about plumbing.” She chuckled, and Rosalie wished she knew what Alex found humorous.
“I’ll reimburse you for whatever you need to fix them.”
“Yeah. Wanted to keep you in the know,” Alex said.
“I know nothing about plumbing, so keeping me ‘in the know’ might be a tall order.”
Alex leaned over the counter, examining the ring as though she was going to explain the problem further but thought better of it. She looked down at Rosalie with a smug smile before it fell.
“Are you okay?”
Surprised, Rosalie said, “Yeah.” It sounded more tentative than she meant it to.
“You seem a little shaken.”
“Oh…um…” Rosalie stammered. She recalled how Alex had responded to her outing herself and decided it was safe to confide in her. “Tara and I broke up.”
“Just now?”
“Yeah.”
Alex’s face shifted into one of concern. “Oh, shit.”
“No, it’s okay.” Rosalie lifted her hand to pat the air to demonstrate that Alex’s concern was unwarranted. “We weren’t dating that long. It wasn’t a surprise.”
“Still,” Alex said. “I’m sorry. Breakups are brutal.”
“I’m doing okay with this one. We’ll stay friends, but now that I’m staying here for longer than I expected...”
“It was a matter of time,” Alex finished for her.
Rosalie nodded.
Alex clucked her tongue in sympathy. “Do you want to come to Home Depot to get some more sink nuts with me? Maybe you’d meet a new girlfriend there.”
Rosalie giggled at the unexpected joke. She tilted her head and looked at Alex, wondering if she liked girls or had simply heard a joke about lesbians and Home Depot on TV.
Rosalie did want to go with Alex; a few hours away from the hotel in Alex’s company sounded relaxing. Perhaps the contents of her car, her music selection, or the conversation between them would bring out clues as to whether or not she liked girls.
But Rosalie couldn’t abandon the desk on such short notice. Home Depot was an hour away, and while a trip to the grocery store or diner was feasible without someone to cover the desk, such a lengthy excursion would be irresponsible.
Rosalie sighed, the weight of Ashhawk latching onto her shoulders. “I wish I could,” she said. “You gotta give me more notice for outings.”
Alex made a disappointed clucking noise and bobbed her head regretfully. “I’ll give you advance notice next time something’s gonna break.”
Rosalie managed an appreciative smile at Alex’s attempt at humor. “Please do.”
As Alex left, she looked back at Rosalie over her shoulder, a look of pity and regret, reminding Rosalie she’d just been dumped. Rosalie felt heavy and stuck. A hunger overtook her. Perhaps it was the desire to batten her body against an upheaval of sadness or anger that prompted her to stick her weathered sign on the door and zip down the road to the diner for a meal and a chance to talk to Shelley. Or perhaps she couldn’t stand to be in the lobby without Alex’s company.
Chapter Six
Wake-up call
The diner was slightly shabby, but it gleamed in comparison to the buildings surrounding it. Shelley was there in her powder blue uniform, her perky hospitality dimmed by fatigue and what Rosalie assumed was bitterness at having worked in a diner for ten years.
Shelley greeted Rosalie with a wave and a broadening of her usually forced smile, pointing toward an empty booth and mouthing Sit there before directing her attention back to the customer she was serving. Rosalie slumped into the booth, scanning the sticky plastic menu for something comforting.
Shelley approached her booth after a few minutes, bending her knees a few times to relieve the pain of being on her feet for a long shift.
“What’s up?” Shelley asked.
“What do you recommend for a girl who just got dumped?” Rosalie asked, gaze fixed on her menu.
“Rosalie, no…” Shelley cooed, bending deeper at the knees before slipping into the booth across from Rosalie. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Rosalie said, giving a forced smile and wave of her hand. “We had basically fizzled out already. I knew it was coming.”
“Who would fizzle on a girl like you?”
Rosalie gave her an appreciative but skeptical look. The compliment might have felt more genuine if Shelley had known her longer.
“Men are stupid,” Shelley huffed, dismissing Rosalie’s look. “Almost makes you want to swear them off.”
“Almost,” Rosalie said, amused.
“I’d recommend the breakup special.”
“I don’t see that on the menu.”
“It’s for our most exclusive customers.” Shelley tapped the menu and tried to wink, but it came out forced.
“I see,” Rosalie grinned. “What is it?”
“A barbecue pulled pork sandwich with a side of coleslaw and some fries, a chocolate milkshake, and a slice of every pie in the case.”
Rosalie smiled appreciatively. “Sounds great. Only one slice of pie, though. Peach.”
“You got it,” Shelley said, patting the table before heaving herself up onto her aching feet again. “One breakup special on the way.”
Rosalie smiled long enough to thank Shelley before looking out the window at the parking lot and main road. Across the street, she could see a strip mall with a liquor store, its gated doors and windows covered from top to bottom with tattered advertisements for cigarettes and beer and lottery games. Beside it was a payday loan office, its new blue awning standing out among the other awnings in the shopping complex, which had faded from dark greens and reds to sages and dusty pinks. A dollar store with the plastic front missing off the illuminated sign sat beside a dental office and a pawn shop. A vacant slot sat on the end, its mangled blinds dangling at an awkward angle. Trash gathered against the curb along the whole strip. It was the saddest strip mall Rosalie had ever seen.
Rosalie tried to picture what the town had once been. The awnings sharp and new, the signs with all their pieces, the parking lot without cracks in the pavement. It was hard to imagine anything had ever been new there.
As Rosalie’s mind wandered, she felt a resigned cont
entedness settle in next to her in the booth. Somehow breaking up with Tara made her feel slightly less alone. There was no one who was supposed to be by her side, no one she was supposed to think of or talk to every night before bed. She was a lone ranger now, free to tell her worries to the land or to the cat—who seemed to be a permanent lurker on the property now—without feeling she ought to be confiding in her girlfriend, nurturing an intimacy that wasn’t second nature to her. The space she had kept for Tara no longer needed to be protected, and she could fill it with whatever she liked.
Sooner than she expected, Shelley sidled up to her booth, sliding a plate of food toward her.
“I think you’re putting off some kind of vibe,” Shelley said with another wink.
“What?”
Shelley glanced over her shoulder. “The guy at the counter asked me about you. He wanted to know who you were.”
Rosalie glanced at the bar, seeing a man a few years older than herself seated at the bar, focused on a slice of pie. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, leaving too much space under his armpits. Rosalie tried not to convey her distaste with her face.
“What do you think?” Shelley asked in a dramatic whisper. “He’s cute, right? He’s got a job at a shipping facility a few towns over.”
Rosalie nodded, horrified that being employed was considered a selling point for a single guy in Ashhawk.
“I’m not really looking for a rebound,” she said, buying herself time. If she was going to come out to Shelley, it wasn’t going to be while Shelley was serving her a breakup meal.
“Of course.” Shelley held up her hand in apology before reaching into her apron for a straw, twisting the end off and popping it into Rosalie’s milkshake. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Rosalie smiled. “There are worse things than you looking out for me.”
Shelley pointed to Rosalie’s plate. “Can I get you anything else?”
“I’m good,” Rosalie said, glancing at her plate. The sandwich did look delicious.
Shelley bobbed her head and turned away, smiling.
The man at the counter caught Rosalie’s eye and gave her an uneven smile that made Rosalie’s stomach twist. She looked out the window as she ate, mostly to avoid further eye contact.
Rosalie thought about Shelley and how she must endure attention from such unsavory men far more often than Rosalie ever would. Rosalie and Shelley would have never been friends in high school, Rosalie knew; Shelley was probably popular in that polished, vulnerable way, while Rosalie, though pretty, was too introverted to be popular. She’d preferred books and journals and calculus to pompoms and compacts and going to the prom.
But her life had taken a strange turn. The desert had conspired to bring Shelley and Rosalie together in a temporary friendship, filled with hotel mice and diner rats. It seemed like a cruel joke the universe had played on her. Or more accurately, a cruel joke Gran had played on her. Gran had left her not only one useless property, but a secret second property with even fewer instructions. Whatever Gran’s intentions in willing it to her had been, they were lost on Rosalie. Rosalie had no idea what lay on the other property, probably another piece of shit building that would drain her, mentally and financially. All she wanted to do was go back to her life in Philadelphia, its predictable comfort compared to the harsh lifelessness of Ashhawk.
She was filled with a bitter anger at Gran even the sweetness of the chocolate shake couldn’t mask. She stewed on her anger as she ate, feeling her legs grow restless and her lungs hungry for great gulps of air as if she had exerted herself in some way. She tried to finish her food but was too upset to put in the effort, instead leaving money on the table and dashing out of the diner as fast as she could.
Rosalie decided as long as she was shackled to Ashhawk, she wasn’t going to be complacent about her fate. Perhaps if she could make enough improvements, she’d be granted a reprieve from her plight. She’d show Gran she could manage. She was going to strip the hotel of everything ugly, everything her grandmother had let fall into disrepair. Even if Alex hadn’t asked to move into the hotel, Rosalie would have hired her full time to undo the damage Gran’s lack of attention to maintenance had caused. She wouldn’t even wait until Alex got back to alert her to the plan. She held her phone to her ear as she drove back to the hotel.
“What’s up?” Alex said, her ease apparent.
“I want you full time,” Rosalie said, hoping her anger didn’t make her sound too harsh. “We’re gonna overhaul the rooms and fix everything that looks like crap.”
Rosalie felt a smile in Alex’s voice as she spoke. “Okay. What prompted this?”
“I just…” Rosalie choked on her anger. “I’m tired of living in a dump.”
“You and the rest of Ashhawk,” Alex said. “Is there anything else I need to get?”
“I don’t know.”
Rosalie was fuming too furiously to think of practical steps. She had her list of potential repairs in the lobby. When Alex finished fixing the sinks, they’d go over it together and start crossing items off with a heavy black pen faster than things could break or fade or crumble around them.
****
The next morning, Rosalie’s anger had dulled from its furious rage. She supposed it was good since she didn’t trust herself to make decisions while angry. She also didn’t want to scare off Alex and set a bad tone for their work together overhauling Gran’s dump.
As they pored over the list of repairs to be made, Rosalie felt herself losing her enthusiasm for renovation. Everything she wanted to do—replace the bathroom vanities, buy new mattresses, update the drapes and window coverings, install keycard door locks, replace the carpets, fix the sign out front, and repaint the exterior—was expensive.
Alex must have sensed her disappointment because she started suggesting budget-friendly alternatives.
“I could make some nice vanities,” she offered. “I can get a good deal on some beautiful wood.”
Rosalie pictured the shabby bathroom counters in the rooms now, their cheap finishes making the hotel look dated and simple.
“Won’t the water ruin the wood?”
“Only if I didn’t seal it well,” Alex said with a smirk, as though doing such a thing would be idiotic. “Don’t worry, I’ll give it a nice stain and finish.”
Alex looked back at the list. Rosalie was aware she was trying to paint a bleak situation as rosy as she could.
“I can replace the exterior lights for cheap.” Alex pointed to an item on the list. “And we could power-wash the exterior to get another year or two out of the paint.”
Rosalie nodded, feeling defeated, wishing she hadn’t set herself up for such disappointment with her lofty goal of overhauling the entire place in a week. She’d let her anger delude her, and now she felt foolish.
Alex left to buy lightbulbs that were less yellow and creepy than the current bulbs and rent a power washer, while Rosalie turned back to her computer to drown herself in the soothing numbers of the previous week’s revenue management spreadsheets.
****
A few hours later, Rosalie felt her pulse surge when she saw Tara was calling. She didn’t know how it would be to talk since they had ended their relationship.
“Hey.”
“Hi...” Tara sounded uncertain about something. “I just got to your apartment.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Tara said hesitantly. “But it looks like someone’s been living here.”
“What?”
“There are a few pairs of heels by the door and a bottle of color-safe shampoo in the shower. And there are clothes all over the bedroom floor.”
Rosalie racked her brain for who could possibly be living in her apartment without breaking in. The only people who had the key were Tara and—
Oh.
“What’s the brand of the shampoo?” Rosalie asked.
“The kind in the red tube,” Tara said.
&nbs
p; Rosalie let out a sigh, simultaneously relieved and frustrated. “My mom.”
“Oh,” Tara said. “Did she tell you she was staying here?”
“Why would she do that?” Rosalie asked sarcastically. Tara knew the strange dynamics of her relationship with her mother.
“Maybe she had a wild night out and didn’t want to bother your dad coming in late,” Tara suggested.
“And happened to have multiple pairs of shoes and her shampoo with her?” Rosalie said, doubtful.
“Yeah, probably not,” Tara said. “Well, I’m here now. What do you want me to send?”
Rosalie pictured the contents of each drawer and closet, letting her mind surround her with the familiar textures of home—the couch upholstery, the paisley shower curtain, the worn softness of the carpet, the sheen of the wall in the living room in the late afternoon. She wanted all of it.
“Everything,” Rosalie said, hedging sarcasm.
“I’ll need to get more boxes, but whatever you need.”
Rosalie was almost frustrated with Tara’s cooperativeness. Why couldn’t she mirror Rosalie’s frustration?
“No, not everything,” she said. “I don’t need winter coats or kitchen gadgets.”
“Okay. But, like, summer wardrobe, jewelry, shoes, books?”
Rosalie mentally scanned her beloved bookshelf, raked her hand over her jewelry rack, calculated her shoes wistfully. If she had to be stranded in Ashhawk, she wanted her nice things around her. If that made her petty or shallow, she didn’t care. She was trying to get through each day with as few tears as possible.
“I can hire someone to box everything up.”
“Don’t be silly,” Tara said. “Just reimburse me for the boxes and shipping and maybe throw in a pizza for while I work.”
Rosalie was calmed by Tara’s easy generosity. “I’ll throw in two.”
“I’ll go get some boxes.”
“There are probably some decent ones by the dumpster,” Rosalie offered. “No use paying for new ones.”
Hearts Inn Page 11
