by Leona Karr
“You’re sure about breakfast?”
“Well, the bacon does smell good. Maybe a couple of pieces and a piece of toast.”
He turned away, so she couldn’t see his smile of victory. He realized for the first time, as he watched her eat, that she was a damned attractive woman. More than just pretty, in his judgment. Even without any makeup, her full, nicely curved mouth, slender nose and heavily lashed soft blue eyes commanded a natural beauty. He’d become so used to women in mannish shirts and denim pants he couldn’t help but notice how her thin summer top revealed the soft smoothness of her neck and accented the firm fullness of her breasts. He did his best to keep his gaze from lingering there.
What was a woman like her doing alone in these parts? She hadn’t offered anything but her name and the fact that she had family in Timberlane. It puzzled him. As far as Josh knew there weren’t any Ashfords anywhere in the immediate area. He kept his curiosity in check, and as soon as she finished eating, they left the house.
He led the way to a pickup truck with more mud than paint showing on it. The interior was scarred and the upholstery on the seats worn.
As they drove away from the house and passed some of the empty cabins, Stacy couldn’t help remarking, “Business must be bad.”
The muscles in his cheeks tightened. “August is usually our busiest summer month, but recent repairs on the bridge have closed us down for six weeks now.” He shot her a stern look. “If your car has damaged some of the new bulwark, our hopes for a busy September may be shot.”
“I’m…I’m sorry,” she stammered, realizing for the first time how her accident might affect him and his livelihood. No wonder he’d been gruff and distant with her. Under the circumstances his attitude was understandable. She felt guilty for having endowed him with all kinds of unfounded motives for rescuing her. She’d certainly imposed upon him enough. If he took her as far as the road, she could, perhaps, flag someone down and catch a ride into Timberlane.
When they reached the bridge, Josh’s worst fears were realized. Her rental car was still there and resting against a cement reinforcement that had been knocked out of position. The bridge shook as Josh drove the pickup over it, making it clear that it wouldn’t be safe for general traffic until it could be repaired.
He stopped the pickup, got out, and surveyed the abandoned car. Swollen waters had engulfed the front of it, but the back doors seemed free. “I’ll take a look and see if I can get some of your things. Is the trunk locked?”
“Yes, but I put my two suitcases on the back seat, and my purse is in the front.” She swallowed hard. “Are you sure it’s safe to try and get them?”
“We won’t know until I try.” His blunt tone cut off all argument. Reaching into the back of the truck, he took out a pair of hip waders and pulled them on over his jeans. Then he waded down the embankment to the muddy swath her car had cut when she missed the road.
As she watched him, the terror of the storm came back with its shrieking wind, clawing torrents of rain, and the lashing darkness. Remembering the strength of his embrace and the warmth of his body as he held her against his chest, she was painfully aware of how much she was indebted to this stranger. When Josh reached the car, he opened the back door, leaned in over the front seat, picked up her purse and slung the strap over his shoulder. Then he picked up the two matched suitcases lying on the back seat and eased out of the car.
As Stacy watched, the illusion of rapidly flowing water made it seem as if the car was moving and slipping away. Her breath caught and choked cries crowded her throat. Get out! Get out!
She was weak with relief when he moved away from the car with the suitcases in his hand. Bending forward, his strong legs took him through the sucking mud and water. He was breathing heavily when he reached the pickup and slung the suitcases in the back. Then he shed the muddy rubber boots and climbed into the seat beside her.
“I guess I got everything,” he said as he handed her the leather purse.
“Oh, yes,” she said, grasping it gratefully. “I really appreciate what you’ve done. If you’ll just take me as far as the main road, I can flag someone down and catch a ride into Timberlane.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. “I’ll take you into Timberlane. No telling who might pick you up.”
She had trouble controlling a swell of laughter and covered her mouth to muffle it.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just that…that…” She didn’t know how to explain that it was likely that anyone picking her up would have frightened her as much as he had.
“Oh, I get it.” His brown eyes suddenly darkened with black flecks. “You’d rather take your chances with anyone but me.”
“No, not now,” she countered quickly. “I’d appreciate the ride. I’m sorry if I offended you. I’m really in your debt.”
“Yes, you are, aren’t you?”
The way he said it gave her a strange feeling that he might collect on that debt sometime in the future.
When they reached Timberlane, Stacy’s heart sank. If it had once been a busy logging settlement in the early forties, now only a hodgepodge of old buildings remained. Any hint of prosperity was gone on the rundown two-block main street, and the few rustic homes clustered on the nearby mountain slope.
Stacy tried to cover up her shock.
Seeing her expression, Josh explained that modest summer tourism, activities in a nearby National Forest and a limited local economy barely enabled the town to limp along.
“I wonder why my uncle bought property in a place like this,” she said.
“What kind of property?”
“It’s called the Haverly Hotel.” She wasn’t prepared for the surge of color that swept into his face.
“Haverly Hotel?” he repeated as if the name was like poison in his mouth.
“Yes, my uncle left it to me. Do you know it?”
He gave an ugly laugh. “Know it? Hell, yes, I know all about the Haverly Hotel.”
Her mouth suddenly went dry. “I don’t understand.”
“My sister, Glenda, fell to her death off one of the balconies.” Then he added bitterly, “Only she didn’t fall. She was pushed!”
“Who…who pushed her?” she asked as her heart jumped. Please God, not weird Uncle Willard.
“If I knew,” Josh answered bitterly, “the bastard wouldn’t be drawing his next breath.”
“That was two years ago?” Stacy said, remembering Josh had said his sister had been dead that long.
Josh nodded as his hands tightened on the wheel.
Stacy’s breathing eased. Uncle Willard had only owned the hotel for a year. “Who had the Haverly Hotel before my uncle bought it?”
Josh’s mouth tightened. “Malo Renquist. He left town the same night Glenda was killed, and the bastard has eluded the authorities for two years. The property was sold to cover delinquent taxes.” He shot her a quick look. “The place was a haven for drugs, drifters and all kinds of scum. What are your plans for it?”
She took a deep breath and told him about her uncle’s will, which stipulated that she couldn’t collect her inheritance until a certain amount of the bequest was spent on renovating the property.
“The place should be torn down,” Josh stated flatly. “What in the hell was your uncle thinking?”
Stacy gave him a weak smile. “We didn’t call him Weird Uncle Willard for nothing. He never seemed quite normal. Much to everyone’s astonishment, he sold one of his inventions for big bucks and ended up with more money than the rest of the family put together.”
“What was he going to do with the place?”
“I don’t know. I think some renovation work has already been done. Where in town is the hotel located?”
“It isn’t. It’s up Devil’s Canyon about five miles.”
Stacy’s mouth was suddenly dry. “Why was it built there?”
“God only knows. The Haverlys were a well-to-do couple from Tennessee. They built a
modest hotel in the style of southern architecture, and I guess they planned on doing a thriving business with affluent summer visitors to the area. Unfortunately, the resorts of Vail and Aspen were too much competition for the small logging town of Timberlane. When the Haverlys couldn’t make ends meet, they gave it up.
“A series of owners after them left the place more dilapidated than before. Then Malo Renquist bought it and turned it into a hang-out for modern-day hippies.” His jaw hardened. “After Glenda’s death the place was closed until your uncle came along and bought it.”
“Well, I guess I have my work cut out for me,” she said with as much bravado as she could manage.
“Isn’t there someone else in your family who could help you out. A brother—?”
“I lied. I don’t have any family in Timberlane. I’m an only child. My father passed on from a lingering illness when I was five, and my mother never married again. I lived at home until she died. There’s just me. I had a fairly good job with a marketing company until a few weeks ago. And now I’m here.”
Josh could hear the uncertainty in her voice. And for good reason, he thought as he stopped the car in front of a tall brick building on Main Street.
“I need to make a quick stop and talk to the men who have been repairing the bridge. I’ll call the service station and ask Hank to see if he can pull your car back on the road with his tow truck. It’ll only take a few minutes, and then I’ll drive you up to the hotel and let you off.”
The blunt way he said it gave her the impression he was intending to set her suitcases on the front steps and get away as quickly as possible. Not that she could blame him. The place must open some deep wounds.
As Stacy waited for him, a feeling of being totally displaced in this crude alien place came over her. The physical trauma of the last twenty-four hours had completely dispelled any feelings of excitement or anticipation. She wondered if Josh Spencer’s attitude toward her and her inheritance was indicative of what she could expect from other people in the town. What if he wasn’t the only one who had a personal vendetta against the place her uncle had left her? She knew that some houses and places seemed to harbor bad luck and evil miasma despite attempts to change the karma. Was the Haverly Hotel like that? Was her accident a warning?
Foreboding settled on her so heavily that she couldn’t just sit there any longer. Across the street, she could see a saloon, a general store, a café and a filling station on the corner. Not much to see, but anything would be better than just sitting here getting more and more depressed. The thought of being stuck in this run-down place for God only knew how long wasn’t doing much for her sense of well-being.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and had just taken a few steps away from the pickup when Josh came out of the brick building.
He wasn’t alone. Walking beside him was an attractive brunette wearing tight western jeans, a man’s shirt, and a belt that flashed a large silver buckle. Almost as tall as Josh, her well-rounded figure suggested an athletic firmness. She had a casual arm linked through his, and Stacy knew with feminine certainty that there must be some romantic history between them. Josh frowned when he saw that Stacy was out of the car. Where was she going? He’d taken care of his business as quickly as he could, explaining to Marci’s boss what had happened and what needed to be done right away to keep the whole bridge from collapsing.
He’d even told Marci that he was in a hurry, but she’d insisted on walking out with him to meet the woman who had crashed into his bridge. When he’d told her that Stacy Ashford was the new owner of the Haverly Hotel, Marci’s hazel eyes had nearly popped out of her head.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Does she resemble that kooky Willard?”
“I’ll let you judge for yourself,” Josh answered with a slight smile.
When he introduced them, Josh could tell Marci was astounded to find kooky Willard’s niece to be a petite, shapely young woman whose steady blue eyes regarded her with clear assessment.
Marci quipped in a light, not-so-amused way, “So Josh played the hero and waded through rain, wind and lightning to save you.”
Stacy nodded, thinking that it didn’t take a psychic to know that Marci Tanner wasn’t pleased about her having spent the night at Josh Spencer’s house. There was jealousy sparking every word. Impulsively Stacy gave Josh a smile that could mean anything. “Yes, he was very hospitable.”
“Oh, Josh doesn’t pay any attention to what people think, do you, handsome?” Marci came back with deadly aim. “He was one of the few townspeople who didn’t go around talking about your uncle’s stupidity when he had a heart attack carrying a huge hunk of marble up the hillside all by himself.”
Stacy knew that her uncle had died of a heart attack, but the lawyer hadn’t elaborated. What else didn’t she know?
Josh gave Marci a silencing look as he urged Stacy back in the truck.
“I’ll see you later, Josh, won’t I?” Marci queried in a suggestive tone.
“Don’t know,” he answered shortly. Marci was still standing there, watching as they pulled away from the curb. Damn, he silently swore. Women!
He saw Stacy swallow hard as if trying to get control of her emotions. Marci’s remarks about her uncle had hit home. No telling what she was going to have to face when he delivered her to that abominable hotel. Josh had sworn he never wanted to lay eyes on the place, and he had purposefully avoided it after Sheriff Mosley had concluded his halfhearted investigation into Glenda’s death and Malo Renquist’s disappearance.
“Time for a midmorning coffee,” he said as much for himself as for her. Without waiting for her nod of agreement, he pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant at the western edge of Timberlane named Alice’s Pantry.
“I’ll wait for you,” she said with a determined lift of her chin.
“Is that what you plan to do? Hide out and run scared?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Then you’d better figure it out,” he said flatly. “Unless you forge your own path and reputation, you’re going to be stuck with your uncle Willard’s. Is that what you want?”
“I don’t care what other people think or say about me.”
“Maybe you should,” he answered flatly, wondering why in the world he was bothering to try and steer her into making her own impression on the town. Just because she’d plowed into his bridge didn’t mean that he had any responsibility toward her. He’d never been one to stick his nose in other people’s affairs, and what happened to Stacy Ashford and her blasted inheritance was none of his business. “Have you ever lived in a small town?”
“No, I was born and raised in Garden Grove, a suburb of L.A. After I graduated from Stanford with a business degree, I took a job in a California marketing firm.” She gave her dark head a toss. “And that’s where I’ll be heading back as soon as I fulfill Uncle Willard’s will and claim my inheritance.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” he agreed, “but small towns can be vicious sometimes when it comes to outsiders. Why don’t you let me introduce you around? Might make your stay more pleasant. Better to let everyone have a look at you before the grapevine gets hold of the news that you’re in Timberlane.” Without waiting for her answer, he got out of the pickup, walked around to her side and opened the door.
Stacy hesitated, then straightening her shoulders, she gave him a wry smile. “All right. Lead me to the slaughter.”
Chapter Three
Alice’s Pantry was a mom-and-pop café crowded with town folks laughing, chatting and sitting, both in booths and at scattered tables in the middle of the floor. Nearly every eye in the place seemed to swing in the direction of the open door and its tinkling cowbell when Josh and Stacy entered.
The hum of conversation perceptibly lowered, and some man audibly swore. “I’ll be damned. Spencer’s got himself a new woman.”
Heat flared in Stacy’s cheeks. She shot a quick look at Josh. Was that why he’d brought her here? To show
off the woman who’d spent the night at his house? She fought the impulse to turn on her heel and march out the door.
Josh must have read her thoughts because he put a firm hand on her arm and eased her into the first empty booth. She sat there stiffly, wondering why on earth she’d let him parade her around like this. Josh’s new woman, indeed. Never in her life had she felt so uncomfortably on display.
Almost immediately a tiny woman in her forties, who had been standing behind the cashier’s counter, came bustling over to them. Wisps of graying sandy hair framed a freckled face, and her eyes twinkled with a friendliness that matched her wide-tooth smile.
“Josh, what a nice surprise. What are you doing in town? Someone said you really got a pounding from the storm up your way. Is Gramps all right?” Her bright brown eyes darted to Stacy. “Who’s this pretty lady?”
Josh gave a deep chuckle and with obvious gentle amusement sorted out her barrage of questions. “Yes, Alice, Gramps is fine. Ornery as ever. The storm hit us hard, the river’s running high, and our bridge is nearly out. And this pretty lady is Stacy Ashford. She got caught in the storm, nearly lost her car in the river and spent the night at my place.”
“Land’s sake, sounds like it was a blessing that Josh was around.” Alice smiled at Stacy and held out her hand. “My husband, Ted, and I own this place, and we’re longtime friends with Josh and his grandpa.” Her eyes clouded slightly as she added, “And Glenda, too.”
“I’m glad to meet you,” Stacy replied, beginning to relax. Maybe Josh had been right about introducing her around. After all, she couldn’t very well hide herself away in an isolated empty hotel for any length of time.
“We stopped in for a cup of coffee before we head up the canyon to Stacy’s place,” Josh said casually.
Alice’s forehead puckered. “Oh, what place is that?”
Stacy replied quickly before Josh could answer, “My uncle left me some property, a small hotel. I understand it’s a few miles up Devil’s Canyon. The Haverly Hotel?”
