Читать книгу Montana Love Letter - Charlotte Carter - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Janelle followed Adam out of the garage and down a driveway that led toward the lake. Pine, fir and cedar trees lined the gravel drive. Ferns filled low-lying spots where water collected, and there were signs of late-blooming wildflowers.

Off to the side of the driveway and visible from the garage was a swing set. Sturdily constructed yet not commercially made, the set included a slide and an exercise bar in addition to the swing. Beyond that sat a cute little playhouse no doubt designed for Hailey when she was a bit younger.

After a hundred paces, the forest thinned, revealing an extended log cabin with a sharply sloped roof. More than a vacation house, it was set so far back from the road that the traffic noise couldn’t snake its way through the trees. The rustic log construction created an aura of permanence, as though the house had always been hidden there in the woods waiting to be discovered.

Off to the right, a smaller cottage of log construction appeared. It fit so well into the environment, it made her think of Little Red Riding Hood en route to Grandmother’s house. Without the wolf, she hoped.

Best of all, through a break in the trees, Janelle caught a glimpse of Bear Lake streaked gold in the late-afternoon sun.

If location was everything in the real-estate business, Adam’s house served as a prime example of perfect placement.

His arms loaded with suitcases, Adam pushed open the cottage door. “I warned you it was small.”

“It’s perfect.” Grandma’s cottage featured a queen-size bed the two girls were already testing for springiness, to the disadvantage of a lovely quilt appliqued with alternating pine trees and birds. A maple chest of drawers sat against the pinewood wall and a matching rocking chair sat by the window with a reading light above it. The cushion covering matched the quilt. A medium-size fan was mounted near the ceiling in one corner.

He was right about the kitchen, though. It held little more than a hot plate and a coffeepot. “I’m sure we’ll be very comfortable here.” Much more comfortable than a motel on a busy highway.

With a touch of her hand and shake of her head, Janelle stopped Raeanne from jumping on the bed. Hailey slowed her bouncing, as well.

“Come on, Peanut,” Adam said. “Let’s let Mrs. Townsend—”

“Janelle, please.”

Hopping off the bed, Hailey gave the quilt a quick swipe to remove the wrinkles the girls had created.

Adam held Janelle’s gaze for a moment, his gray eyes assessing her before looking back to this daughter. “Let Janelle and her daughter get unpacked. Then they can come on over to the big house.” He turned to Janelle. “I’m going to grab a sandwich and get back to work. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the cupboard or fridge.”

“Thank you again, Adam. We really appreciate—”

He waved off her thanks, hooked his arm around Hailey’s shoulders and walked out of the cottage.

She watched him go for a moment, thinking of the day she’d had, close encounters first with a sturdy tree and then with a man who seemed just as solid.

Since she only planned to stay one night, she hung a few things in the closet but didn’t unpack the suitcases all the way. Raeanne put her backpack of games on the dresser and then sat on the edge of the bed to watch her.

“You ready to go see where Hailey lives?” Janelle asked.

Nodding, Raeanne headed out the door and ran down the boardwalk to the deck at the back of the main house. As though Hailey had been waiting for them, she opened the sliding glass door wide to admit them.

“Come on. Let me show you my room,” Hailey said. The two girls ran off down a hallway.

The moment Janelle stepped inside, she was struck by the open floor plan. The entire living room and formal dining area filled the lake side of this wing of the house. The sliding glass door to the deck provided a panoramic view of the lake and the opposite shore. A comfortable leather couch and chairs were arranged to take advantage of the view, and the flat-screen TV was mounted between the dining and living areas. Two large wagon-wheel chandeliers hung from the high ceiling.

A coffee mug had been left on an end table, and some of Hailey’s toys and books were scattered about. A lived-in room. A room where friends would be welcomed.

Adam was standing at the kitchen counter eating the last few bites of his sandwich.

“What a beautiful place you have.” The space oozed potent masculinity and solid dependability, and Janelle had to remind herself that appearances could be deceiving. She’d learned that lesson too late to save herself from heartbreak. “Have you lived here long?”

He leaned against the counter. “All my life. My dad built the basic house pretty much by himself. Later, when my brother and I were older, we helped him add on another bedroom and upgrade the kitchen.”

“Are your parents still living?”

“Yep. Living the good life in Arizona. Dad was having some breathing problems and arthritis. They thought the drier climate might help. Now he’s playing golf, though he says his handicap is about twenty and that’s for nine holes.”

She chuckled. “Not quite ready for the senior pro tour yet, huh?”

“Not likely. My mother has stuck with bridge and water aerobics. They seem to keep pretty busy.”

“Does your brother still live here in Montana?”

“Nope. Marc’s a big-gun contractor in Phoenix. He’s close enough to the folks to pop over to see them if there’s a problem.”

Rae and Hailey came running back into the living room. Rae wrapped her arms around Janelle’s hips.

“I’ve got some video games. Is it okay for Rae to play them with me?” Hailey asked.

“As long as they’re not violent games, it’s fine with me,” Janelle said.

“Trust me, they’re age appropriate, though they still might be a little old for Rae,” Adam assured her. “I make it a point to check ratings and ask other parents before I buy any game.” He dusted the bread crumbs off his hands. “Hailey, you can offer them a snack if they’re hungry, but remember, no going out on the boat on your own. You have to wait for me.”

“I can drive the boat by myself,” she protested.

“You can, but only when I’m with you.” He hooked his arm around his daughter and gave her a squeeze. “I’ll see you all about dinnertime. Bathroom’s down the hall, and there are fresh towels in the cupboard.”

“Thanks. You’ve been more than generous, letting us stay in the cottage and have the run of your home. We’ll be fine,” Janelle said. It really was incredibly kind of him. Trusting, too, since she was as much a stranger to him as Adam was to her.

He turned to leave, and she immediately sensed the vacuum he left behind, almost as though his leaving caused the vibrancy in the air to dim and the oxygen to be pulled from the room.

With a shake of her head, Janelle thrust such fanciful notions away.

* * *

His head filled with thoughts of Janelle, Adam went directly to his office. Something about her stirred in him a desire to protect her, keep her from harm, although he didn’t think she’d appreciate his concern. She appeared perfectly competent, even calm despite her

run-in with a tree.

Even so, he’d seen a hint of sadness in the depths of her brown eyes. He’d felt a connection with her, an undefined link that echoed his own sense of loneliness.

Her elemental feminine mystique called to him, as did her quiet sophistication. Chances were good she wouldn’t feel the same way about him—a guitar-playing mechanic with grease stains on his hands and lube oil in his veins.

She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Which didn’t always mean a woman wasn’t married. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder.

Scratching the back of his head, he forcefully set aside any thought of Janelle Townsend. He had to find out what glitch had kept him from paying on credit.

Sitting at his desk, he punched in the number of Devin McCain at the auto-parts store in Missoula. While he waited for an answer, he looked out the window above his desk, past the play yard to his house, and wondered what Janelle was doing.

“McCain,” his friend answered.

“It’s me, Adam. What’s going on, Devin? What’s this about your delivery guy asking for cash only?” Adam strummed his fingers against the edge of his desk in an agitated beat.

“You tell me, Adam. I ran your credit-card number through the system like I always do, and it was declined. You overextended on your limit?”

“Not likely.” He stared at the pile of invoices that needed to be paid. No more than usual, he was pretty sure. “There’s gotta be some kind of glitch in the system. Did you try it a second time?”

“Three times, man. Rejected every time. You’ve never had trouble with credit before.”

“No, I haven’t.” Since Lisa died, he’d barely kept up with the paperwork that she used to do so easily. But he hadn’t overdrawn his account, he was sure. “Wish you’d given me the benefit of the doubt and called me. Kind of embarrassing to be told by some kid my credit’s no good.”

“Sorry, man. I really am. But I’ve got a business to run.”

“Right.” So did Adam. If a mix-up cut him off from his line of credit, it would be tough to keep things going smoothly. There was always a lag between buying parts for a job and getting paid by the customer. He had to find out what was going on.

“Look, Devin, we’ve known each other a long time. You know I’ll work out whatever misunderstanding has happened. But I need you to cover me while I get things back to normal.”

“I don’t know...”

“A woman came in a bit ago. Her front end collided with a tree. Lots of damage. I’ve got most of the parts I’ll need on hand, but I’m going to need a new radiator for her, a headlight and an air bag for a three-year-old Honda. Run a tab for me, will you? You know I’m good for it.”

Devin sighed into the phone. “Okay. But get this credit thing straightened out fast. In this economy, my sales are way off.”

“Don’t worry. Just ship that stuff to me next week.” Adam gave Devin the model number he needed. With a sense of relief, Adam hung up and immediately called the president of the bank in town, a man he’d known most of his life.

Paul Muskie gave him an answer he didn’t want to hear. “The IRS put a lien on all your bank accounts.”

That news drove Adam back in his chair. “You’re kidding me.” A joke, that’s what it was. The Rotary guys were always pulling stunts on each other. Adam had done his share of leg-pulling over the years. “Come on, Paul. Tell me the truth. What’s going on?”

Muskie was quiet for a moment. “Didn’t the IRS send you a notice of the lien?”

“I don’t—” He grabbed the pile of paperwork in the in-basket. His hand trembled as he sorted through the papers. He squinted trying to make out the names of companies, the return addresses. How could he have missed a letter from the IRS? Lisa never would have.

There. A government return address. This had to be—

“You still there, Adam?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Nausea roiled his stomach. “Look, I’ll get back to you. Okay?”

“Sure. Hope you can straighten out whatever’s gone wrong. The IRS can sure make a mess of a man’s life.”

Yeah. Some guys didn’t need the help of the IRS. Some guys could make a mess all on their own.

Hanging up the phone, he ripped opened the envelope and spread the letter flat on his desk. He remembered he’d had to sign for the letter when Billy Martin delivered it but he hadn’t had a chance to open it right away. He’d been busy. Two customers had just arrived, one to pick up his car and the other with a fuel-pump problem and a squealing water pump. Adam must have put the IRS letter aside. Somehow it had gotten buried under the pile of invoices. And he’d never given it another thought.

Fool! He should have asked Hailey to tell him what the letter said. A reading lesson, he should have said.

Staring down at the typed words, the letters swam before his eyes. He rubbed his forehead. Slowly. Laboriously, his finger moving from one word to the next, he read. NOTICE. UNPAID. TAXES. LIEN.

But he’d paid his taxes. It had taken him days, but he’d filled out the forms. Every one of them. Just like Lisa had always done.

You filled ’em out wrong, guitar boy!

Panic gripped him and sweat beaded his forehead. A lien on his bank accounts could mean he’d lose his business. The business his dad started forty years ago and had trusted Adam to run.

He’d have to talk to the IRS in Missoula. Figure out the mistake he’d made on the tax forms.

Admit that he’d messed up because he couldn’t read. A secret that shamed him. A secret that he’d never shared with anyone outside of his parents, except for Lisa, his wife. She’d understood. And had loved him anyway.

All these years he’d been an expert at covering up his problem. Making adjustments. Working around the words he couldn’t read. Joking to get past the awkward moments. Keeping his secret.

Now they’d all learn the truth.

Memories of his childhood, his humiliating school experiences, the jeers of his classmates washed over him in a hot lava flow of pain.

Adam Hunter is stupid!

He balled his hands into fists. He wasn’t stupid!

He could tell by the sound of an engine if a valve tappet was about to go bad. With one press of a throttle he knew if the fuel mixture was off or the fan belt was too dry and ready to crack. The guys who had given him such a hard time in school now brought their cars to him. He could run rings around any other mechanic in western Montana and Idaho combined.

But he couldn’t run rings around the IRS.

* * *

Sitting on the dock beneath the shade of a cedar tree, Janelle watched Hailey teach Raeanne to skip stones across the water. Most plopped into the lake with a splash. But now and then a stone flew across the surface in two or three skips, and Raeanne lit up as if she’d won an Olympic medal. She’d been so engaged in rock skipping, she’d even left her beloved Ruff in Janelle’s care.

The air was so pleasant and filled with the scent of the woods, Janelle hated to move. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this relaxed.

She checked the time. After six o’clock. Adam must be busy on a repair job.

“Hailey,” she called. “If you know what your dad plans for dinner, I could get started cooking.”

“It’s Friday night,” the child called back. “That means it’s spaghetti night.”

“Perfect.” Standing, Janelle brushed the back of her slacks off. “You two stay close and don’t go in the water. I’ll start dinner.” She didn’t like Raeanne to eat too late or she wouldn’t get to bed on time. Besides, Janelle was getting hungry herself.

While the kitchen appliances weren’t new, they appeared functional, and the oak-stained cupboards made the room cozy, a place where a family would want to gather around the oak table. Colorful print pillows covered the seats of the matching chairs.

This was certainly not the kitchen of a typical bachelor, but one whose wife had lent the home her feminine touch. Janelle wondered if Adam still grieved for his wife, and thought he probably did.

Before opening the refrigerator door, she noted Hailey’s third-grade report card held there by a flower magnet. Straight A’s. She smiled. One smart young lady.

She found some ground meat on the top shelf of the refrigerator, a bag of lettuce in the vegetable bin along with two tomatoes. After opening several cupboards, she located a box of angel-hair pasta in a small pantry along with a jar of pasta sauce next to several boxes of cereal. A heavy iron skillet was stored under the counter.

Raeanne threw open the sliding glass door and blasted into the house, racing down the hall to the bathroom.

Janelle smiled at Hailey, who followed at a more dignified pace.

“Raeanne sure is quiet. Is she, like, slow?” Hailey’s hesitant question held no negative judgment but rather concerned curiosity.

“Not at all. In fact, she’s quite intelligent and used to jabber constantly. She just sort of forgot how to talk.” Pressing her lips together, Janelle wondered how much she should reveal about her daughter’s situation, and her own.

Hailey’s forehead puckered into a frown. “Do you think she’ll ever talk again?”

“Oh, yes. Given enough time she’ll find her voice.” Janelle prayed every night and every morning that her daughter would let go of the pain and fear and be whole again. She desperately wished she had the skill to “fix” whatever had broken in her little girl’s heart and head when she’d witnessed the sudden death of her father.

“Can I help her? I’m pretty good with little kids. I always wanted a little sister, but Mom got so sick she couldn’t have any more babies.”

A surge of affection and sympathy for this young, outgoing, motherless child touched Janelle’s heart. “Just play with her and act natural. That’s the best medicine you can give her.”

Raeanne skipped back into the living room. She gestured for Hailey to go back outside with her.

“Why don’t you two settle down and find something on television to watch?” Janelle suggested. “Dinner won’t be too long.”

“I’ve got some board games we could play,” Hailey volunteered.

With Raeanne’s silent approval, the two of them raced off toward Hailey’s bedroom again. Janelle had no doubt that Raeanne would sleep well tonight with all the exercise and fresh air she was enjoying.

Struck by how comfortable she felt in this house, almost as if she’d always lived here, Janelle put the meat on to brown.

But she didn’t live here, she sternly reminded herself. She and her daughter were guests staying in Grandma’s cottage, nothing more, and only for one night. Tomorrow they’d find another temporary place to stay. Then they’d start some serious house hunting so they’d have a home of their own.

* * *

Adam had spent the past two hours laboriously going over his tax forms. They made less sense to him now than when he’d filled them out in April.

He should’ve hired someone to do his taxes. But his receipts and invoices were all crammed in a box. He could barely make out what was what. Anybody else would’ve laughed himself silly over his record-keeping and walked away in disgust—or asked far too many questions that Adam would’ve had trouble answering.

Lisa, his late wife, had wanted them to keep his problem to themselves. She was afraid he’d lose business if others knew he couldn’t read.

With a headache threatening, he decided he’d call it a day. He shed his overalls and work boots and washed up in the restroom in the garage. Time to get home to fix dinner for Hailey...and his houseguests.

His steps suddenly a little lighter, he locked up the garage and walked back to the house. The temperature had cooled and birdcalls trilled through the treetops. The distant sound of a motorboat hummed across the lake.

The moment he walked into the house, he caught the scent of garlic and oregano, and his stomach rumbled. He found Janelle bending over a pot on the stove, tasting the spaghetti sauce.

“My sauce never smells that good,” he said.

She jumped back from the stove and shoved a lock of her brown hair away from her forehead. With a nervous laugh, she said, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry I startled you.” Seeing her in his kitchen, a drying towel tucked in the waistband of her slacks for an apron, brought a lump to his throat. It had been a long time since anyone except his aging, once-a-week cleaning lady had cooked dinner for him. And she was likely to leave a tuna casserole and broccoli with cheese sauce. Not his favorites.

“I hope you don’t mind that I added some spices to the sauce. I found them in the cupboard.”

He sauntered farther into the room. “Of course not. But I didn’t mean for you to have to cook for Hailey and me. You and Raeanne are our guests.”

“I knew the girls would be getting hungry soon.”

“Yeah.” He took the spoon from her hand and dipped it into the simmering concoction. Blowing on the spoonful of red sauce to cool it, he sampled it. “Hmm, tastes homemade.”

“I’m not exactly an Italian chef, but I do like it spiced up a bit.”

They were standing so close he could see tiny golden flecks in her brown eyes. “Where are the girls?”

Her tongue peeked out and dampened the fullness of her bottom lip, leaving it shiny. “They’re playing board games in Hailey’s room.”

“Great. Hailey gets pretty bored on her own when I work late.” And he got bored and lonely during the long nights alone with no one to talk to, no one to share with, no one to care for or tell about his day.

A pan of water heating on the stove reached a full boil and bubbled over, sizzling on the burner.

Her face flushed, Janelle jumped back and lowered the flame. She wiped up the spill with a corner of her towel.

“If you’re ready to eat, I’ll put the spaghetti on to cook. You can tell the girls to clean up and we’ll eat in about five minutes.”

Regret that the connection between them had been broken forced a sigh from his lips.

“I’ll let them know.”

Not that the connection mattered or was even real, he thought as he walked down the hallway. Janelle and her daughter would be gone tomorrow. The only actual relationship they had was based on a crumpled car and a cracked radiator.