Читать книгу When Snow Falls - Brenda Novak - Страница 12

4

Friday morning at the coffee shop was usually Cheyenne’s favorite part of the week. She loved sitting around the table with a cappuccino, catching up with her friends. But there was so much on her mind—starting with her mother’s worsening health, the fact that Presley was acting strange and was probably on drugs again, and the knowledge that she’d be without the friends who sustained her through the biggest holiday of the year. Then there was Eve’s impending date with Joe, which, she was sad to acknowledge, upset her more than everything else. With all of that, she couldn’t enjoy herself, even though they had a great turnout today.

Riley Stinson had shown up with his thirteen-year-old son, Jacob, who’d been born the year they graduated from high school. Riley assured Eve that he was ready to begin the remodel on Monday. Sophia Knox, now DeBussi, had joined them. But thanks to her past and her arrogant husband, who always seemed to be working out of town, she wasn’t particularly liked or trusted. Chey thought Sophia came only to see Ted. They’d once been an item, and it was obvious that there were still feelings between them, but at this point those feelings were mostly negative, especially on Ted’s side. He seemed annoyed that he had to put up with her butting into his group of friends and rarely spoke to her. This added a level of tension that hadn’t existed before, but Sophia had been coming to coffee for over a year. They’d grown used to her presence even if they didn’t quite welcome it.

Then there was Callie Vanetta, who owned her own photography studio on Sutter Street, and Kyle Houseman, who’d recently been through an acrimonious divorce. Callie and Kyle had become extremely close of late. Cheyenne sensed it and wondered if they were sleeping together, but they certainly didn’t let on if they were. Noah Rackham, a professional cyclist whose twin brother had been killed when the mineshaft caved in on graduation night—Cheyenne would never forget the moment she’d heard that terrible news—and Baxter North, Noah’s best friend, rounded out the group. Without Gail, there were nine. Most were talking and laughing, but today Eve didn’t seem to be enjoying herself any more than Cheyenne was. Although she’d come to the coffeehouse walking on air, thanks to her date with Joe, her mood had wilted as soon as the elegant European couple who owned A Room with a View B and B strode in and sat across from their table.

“Ignore them,” Callie admonished when she noticed Eve’s preoccupation.

Eve lowered her voice. “I can’t. They’ve single-handedly destroyed my family’s business.”

“It’s not illegal to give you some competition,” Baxter pointed out. He’d grown up next door to Noah, and they’d spent most of their time together, but they were nothing alike. In keeping with his profession, Noah was athletic, perfectly toned and always tan. He rode outside nearly every day, including the winter. Baxter, a stockbroker who commuted to San Francisco three or four days a week, was handsome, too, but in a suave, cultured way.

“They’ve been doing more than that,” Eve muttered. “They’ve been trying to drive me out of business. That’s unethical, even if it isn’t illegal.”

Cheyenne knew how close they’d come. She wasn’t sure the Harmons would be able to hang on to the inn, despite the remodel and the name change and the plans they’d developed to promote Little Mary’s as a haunted house. “They’ve been undercutting our rates by so much they can’t possibly be making any money,” she explained. “They’re taking a loss every day—a significant one, considering how much they’ve thrown into restoring that place. They’re just hoping to outlast us.”

“At which point they’ll be the only B and B in town and will recoup their losses,” Eve said bitterly. “You wait and see.”

“Except they won’t succeed in forcing you to close your doors.” Riley handed his son some money so he could go to the counter and buy one of the giant muffins Black Gold was known for. “You’re about to give people a good reason to stay at your place, even if it costs a little extra.”

“What?” Eve asked dryly. “A scare?”

“A piece of Whiskey Creek history.” Ted pushed his to-go cup aside. “Maybe it’ll help that I’ve decided to tackle Mary Hatfield’s murder as the basis for a new book.”

“Really?” Noah flipped his hair out of his face as he leaned forward. “You’re moving away from fiction?”

“I’ll keep up with my current contracts. The thrillers are my bread and butter. But in my spare time I’d like to research what happened to Mary. See if there’s a story there. I’ve always been curious about it. If I can find enough information to proceed, maybe it’ll bring some notoriety to the inn.”

“You’d better work fast,” Eve said.

He reached over to cover her hand with his. “You’re making lots of great changes. Have some faith.”

“Everything will work out.” Callie tucked her shiny blond hair behind one ear. “But even if it doesn’t, you’ve done all you can. We’re leaving on Sunday. Don’t let the Russos ruin your trip.”

Eve flattened her hands on the table. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I’ve tried to talk to them, but they won’t listen, let alone show any sympathy.”

“It’s business,” Noah said. “You can’t take it personally.”

That was easy for Noah to say, Cheyenne thought. His future didn’t depend on the bed-and-breakfast.

“There are human beings behind businesses. Eve has always believed that running The Gold Nugget would be her future.”

Everyone glanced at one another as if they were shocked it was Sophia who’d contributed this. She and her husband were the wealthiest people in town—not counting Simon, who’d married Gail a year ago. One would think if anyone was going to weigh in on the side of ruthless business practices, it would be Sophia, who’d chosen to break Ted’s heart and marry for money.

“The problem will still be here when you get back,” Riley said, reiterating Callie’s sentiment. “Tackle it then. For now, the inn is my baby. You have better things to think about.”

He was referring to the cruise, of course. But that wasn’t where Eve’s mind went. Cheyenne could tell by the smile that broke out across her face. “I do have better things to think about,” she agreed. “One of them is dinner with Joe DeMarco.”

Cheyenne nearly dropped her cappuccino. Eve had sworn her to secrecy. She’d said she didn’t want anyone to know how she felt about Joe, not until she’d had the chance to see if he returned her interest. Did his agreement to have dinner mean that?

“So…is this a date?” Callie was instantly intrigued; they all were.

Blushing slightly, Eve rolled back the foil lid of her orange juice. “It is.”

Baxter crossed one leg over the other. Although he usually worked at home on Fridays, he was dressed in one of his hand-tailored suits, signifying he had business in San Francisco. “Since when have you been seeing Joe?”

“Tonight will be our first evening out. But…I’ve had my eye on him for ages.”

Cheyenne couldn’t look up. She didn’t want to meet anyone’s gaze, didn’t want her friends to realize that she felt as if she’d just been kicked in the stomach. Eve hadn’t had her eye on Joe nearly as long as Cheyenne had. But she couldn’t say so. Eve’s announcement made Joe hers, whether he felt the same or not.

“He needs to start seeing someone.” Callie put her plastic spoon into an empty yogurt container. “How long has it been since his divorce?”

Noah answered. “I was getting back from my first race in Europe when I heard, so it would have to be four, five years ago.”

“The divorce was hard on him,” Baxter commented.

Riley’s chair scraped the wood floor as he made room for his son, who’d returned with his muffin. “What his ex-wife did would’ve been hard on anybody.”

“I think he’s seen a few women over the past couple of years, but no one from around here,” Ted volunteered.

“And no one who’s as perfect for him as I am,” Eve joked.

When everyone chuckled, Cheyenne tried to laugh, too, but couldn’t manage much more than a pained smile. She wanted to say she had to check on her mother so she could slip out. But she’d driven over with Eve.

Forcing herself to sit quietly, she pretended the same happy interest the others exhibited as Sophia said how delighted Gail would be, and Ted teased that it was about time the reluctant-to-commit Eve settled on someone. It’d been three years since her last relationship.

Soon talk of Eve and Joe died down, but the next subject didn’t make Chey feel much better. Ted told everyone about the tourist information he’d found online. Callie went over what to pack for the cruise. And Eve asked whether or not to buy traveler’s checks—all for a trip Cheyenne couldn’t take.

When they finally began to disperse, Cheyenne breathed a sigh of relief. Callie had to open her photography studio by ten. Baxter had a long drive to reach his office in San Francisco. Ted was behind on his deadline. They all had work to do. Since this was the last day The Gold Nugget would be open until after the first of the year—not to mention the last day it would operate under its current name—Chey was just as eager to start her day. She couldn’t expect her short-order cook to wrap up breakfast alone.

But just as she slid out of the booth, Noah clasped her arm. “What will you do while we’re gone?” he asked.

She could tell by his sympathetic expression that he felt bad she wasn’t able to join them, so she mustered yet another smile—and prayed it was more convincing than the ones that had come before. “The same. Taking care of my mother.”

But with the way things were going she’d probably be burying Anita instead. And to make her Christmas even merrier, she’d most likely have to drag her sister back to rehab.

* * *

It was pathetic to drive past Eve’s house so many times. Especially because she’d left her mother alone in order to do it. But Cheyenne couldn’t seem to stop herself. She had to know what time Eve got home, had to see if Joe kissed her at the door…or was invited inside.

Eve lived on her parents’ property, but she had her own small bungalow in back, which afforded her enough privacy to be able to entertain a lover. As long as Joe parked his car off the premises, her aging parents would never notice if their daughter had overnight company. When they weren’t traveling in the motor home they’d bought when their financial situation still looked good, they went to bed early and, for the most part, let Eve visit them at the main house instead of trudging back to her place.

The fact that Eve would, no doubt, provide a detailed recap of the evening added to the guilt that troubled Cheyenne. They shared everything. But Cheyenne wasn’t planning to ask about Joe. She hoped Eve would be so caught up in getting ready for the cruise that they wouldn’t have to talk about him. She couldn’t continue to pretend approval and support when each word Eve said cut like broken glass.

Besides, she didn’t want to see the man she loved through Eve’s eyes. She wanted to see him through her own. She’d memorized every encounter they’d ever had, every nuance of his expression, tone and body language. She was hoping that would help her determine whether or not he was excited about Eve or merely being polite. He was nice enough to accept a dinner invitation from just about any woman.

Cheyenne should know how kind he was. He’d always made her feel good, despite the unkempt way she’d looked when they first met or the number of guys in Whiskey Creek who wouldn’t date her in the early years. Although Chey had never slept with anyone—Joe was the only man she’d ever dreamed of touching in that way—Presley and Anita had gone to bed with any man who showed interest. The Christensens were barely one step above J. T. Amos’s clan, who were always fighting and going to jail or getting busted for dealing drugs. At least the people in Whiskey Creek had learned to differentiate between her and the rest of her family.

She’d been listening to the car radio to pass the time, but the noise made her nervous. Turning it off, she pulled down the tree-lined dirt road that led to the neighbors’ farm and stopped just beyond Eve’s house. From there she’d be able to tell when a car arrived. If she got out and stood hidden in the shrubs, she might even be able to ascertain what went on at the door.

Five minutes passed before she decided she couldn’t invade her friend’s privacy out of her own jealousy. Why would she betray the one person who’d brought some legitimacy to her life? Who’d convinced her that she could rise above her situation? Who’d made her whole in a way she’d never been whole before?

With a curse for her own weakness, she started up the Oldsmobile she’d bought from Henry Statham over in Jackson last Christmas and swung it around. But before she could drive out of the lane and onto the paved road, headlights appeared. A vehicle was cresting the hill.

Afraid it might be Joe and Eve and that they’d see her, Cheyenne backed up and switched off the car again. She had to remain hidden by the trees. The Olds was too distinctive; she couldn’t hope to drive by them and escape notice.

Sure enough, Chey recognized Joe’s white truck as it turned into Eve’s driveway, but she’d expected as much. Whiskey Creek was a small town of only two thousand. Not many people lived out here, in the country. With the older Harmons and their farmer neighbors asleep, it almost had to be Eve.

Curving her nails into her palms, Chey watched as the headlights went off. But when Joe and Eve climbed out, she made herself look away. What happened next was none of her business. She had no right to be sitting here, spying like some sort of obsessed weirdo. What kind of friend was she? Eve would make Joe a wonderful girlfriend, lover—even wife. He deserved the best, didn’t he?

She waited until they both went inside. Then, sick at heart because of what that might mean, she drove home. She needed some silence, some space.

Unfortunately, her mother called her the second she opened the door.

“Cheyenne? Is that you?”

“It’s me,” she called back, but hesitated in the small entry. She wasn’t sure she could make herself continue into the house. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to see the reality of her mother’s condition, didn’t want to think about what was coming or when it might happen, didn’t want to take stock of the painkiller and know her sister had stolen more.

“I spilled my sippy cup,” Anita complained. “I need another bath.”

Chey gripped her purse tighter. “No problem. I’ll bring a wet washcloth.”

“That won’t be enough. It was juice. I’m sticky all over. And the bedding…it has to be changed.”

Squeezing her eyes closed, Cheyenne pressed her free hand to her face. Bathing Anita was so difficult. It took all her strength, despite her mother’s dramatic weight loss. And now there’d be two baths in one night?

She imagined Eve lying beneath Joe, imagined how he might be touching her, kissing her, and nearly crumpled to her knees. She’d fantasized about Joe ever since she’d met him, but much more since his divorce. It was her only guilty pleasure.

But now…she couldn’t even have that, not if he got together with Eve.

“Are you coming?”

The impatience in Anita’s voice grated on Chey’s nerves. What if she walked back to her car, got in and simply drove off?

Determined to do just that, she whirled around and ran to the street. She’d escape her mother at last—on her own terms—and go find the blonde woman.

She had her keys in her hand and was opening her car door before the rational part of her mind regained control. What was she thinking? She didn’t even know where to start looking. She had no name, couldn’t associate the blonde woman with any particular city or place. She’d gone to the police before—not here but in New Mexico after she’d turned fourteen. She’d told them she thought she’d been abducted, but they’d insisted she didn’t match anyone who’d been reported missing and sent her home. What made her think she’d get a different reception now?

Besides, she couldn’t go anywhere. What would happen to Presley? Who would take care of Anita while Presley had to work? Who would handle their mother’s funeral and burial when the time came?

Not Presley. She wasn’t capable of holding herself together long enough.

And who would help Eve save the inn?

Hanging her head, Cheyenne stood in the cold, the wind whipping at her hair while she stared at her feet. Not only did she have responsibilities here in Whiskey Creek, she had friends. She couldn’t let them down just because Eve was dating the man she loved. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she did.

With a deep breath, she locked up her car and returned to the house.

“Coming,” she called to her mother the moment she walked in, but as she hurried past the full-length mirror hanging on Presley’s door, she stopped dead in her tracks. In the dim light streaming into the hallway from her own bedroom, she looked so much like the willowy blonde woman in her dreams she almost thought her reflection belonged to someone else.