Читать книгу Jake's Biggest Risk - Julianna Morris, Julianna Morris - Страница 12
ОглавлениеIN THE GUESTHOUSE kitchen Hannah tried not to react as she took out the three entrées Brendan had brought with him. Eggplant parmigiana. Her favorite dish, but not the sort of thing Danny liked. Okay, so Brendan didn’t understand kids; that wasn’t the end of the world. He could learn. The baby greens in the salad were even worse for a little boy than the eggplant, but the cheesy breadsticks would be popular—when Luigi called something “cheesy” it was an understatement.
“This place is really nice,” Brendan said with approval as he gazed around the kitchen. “I never asked, did you do a remodel when you moved in here?”
“Uh, no,” Hannah murmured, thinking of the fortune it would have taken for her to update the property. Her father was both an architect and contractor and had insisted on doing the work for Great-Aunt Elkie at cost when she’d renovated a few years before, but the materials alone had been hideously expensive. “My great-aunt kept things fixed up. She was quite particular.”
“I’m impressed. A lot of older people seem to want their homes to stay the same, out of sentiment I suppose.”
“Not Elkie, at least not about Huckleberry Lodge. Before he died, Great-Uncle Larry made her promise she wouldn’t be maudlin and leave everything the same.”
“You must have been very close.”
“I was crazy about them both.” Hannah smiled at the memories. “I used to spend weekends here. We’d make banana splits and watch old films like Key Largo and The Big Sleep. My great-aunt was a big Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall fan. There was a line she loved from an old pop song...‘we had it all, just like Bogie and Bacall.’ I think that’s how she saw her marriage to Great-Uncle Larry, but instead of Key Largo, they had Mahalaton Lake.”
“Oh...right.”
It was just a guess, but Hannah had the feeling he wasn’t entirely sure who Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall actually were.
She checked the clock as she arranged the flowers he’d given her in a vase. Barbi wasn’t due for a couple of hours, so there was time to eat and visit. Nevertheless, it was exasperating that Brendan had come, even though she’d told him that she had plans. Between taking care of Danny and work and community activities, she didn’t have as much time to socialize as he wanted. Of course, maybe he’d never dated a single mother before and didn’t realize how much a child changed things.
Still, if she ever wanted to fall in love and get married again, she needed to remember how it felt to be a woman, not just a mother.
She set the table and called Danny from his room. He greeted their guest politely, only to scrunch up his face when he saw his plate; he loved Italian food...as long as it was cheese pizza or spaghetti.
“Wasn’t it nice of Brendan to bring us dinner?” Hannah said before he could complain.
“Uh-huh.” He sighed heavily and picked up his fork.
Hannah ate a bite of salad, savoring the garlic-balsamic dressing. It was just right to set off the eggplant parmigiana, and her frustration with Brendan faded—this was much better than macaroni and cheese.
“Isn’t Danny eating salad?” Brendan asked.
“Not tonight.”
She hadn’t given Danny a serving, knowing he’d balk at eating the mildly bitter baby greens in addition to eggplant. And she couldn’t blame him—children experienced flavors differently from adults, so foods that she loved didn’t necessarily taste good to Danny. Normally she wanted him to try a bite of everything, but it was easier to keep things lower key in front of company.
Badger came trotting into the kitchen and stood at Danny’s elbow. Hannah didn’t allow Badger to be fed table scraps, but he remained hopeful...making her suspect that Danny was sneaking him bits when she wasn’t watching.
“Badger, sit,” she ordered.
The dog lay down, crossing one paw over the other, a picture of meek innocence.
“How is your new tenant working out so far?” Brendan asked.
“It’s too early to say. He was irritable when he arrived, but that was probably from being in pain.”
Brendan frowned. “I’ve read about the Hollister family—they’re notorious. Let me know if you have any problems. If worse comes to worst, I’ll look for a way to cancel the lease.”
“I’m sure it won’t get that bad.”
“All right, but you may change your mind if his party-loving father shows up.”
She couldn’t change her mind. Having Jake Hollister as a tenant was going to ease some of her financial pressures, and it would be painful to give up the income now that she’d gotten the first check. She’d just have to deal with him as well as possible.
* * *
BARBI DROVE OUT of town, both excited and nervous about her first tutoring session. She hadn’t taken a test since she was sixteen, and even when she was a kid she hadn’t done so good on them—she froze when she saw a list of questions and her head wouldn’t work. As for all that proper English and math, those things scared the crap out of her.
She got to Huckleberry Lodge and groaned when she saw a silver Lexus parked in front of the guesthouse. There weren’t that many fancy cars in Mahalaton Lake. It had to be Brendan Townsend.
God, what a prig.
He was conventional about everything—even his pizzas always had the same three toppings. She’d bet that in bed it was missionary position all the way—some action on the breasts, a quick swipe on the thigh and wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Sex was probably too earthy for him to do it right.
The first time she’d delivered a pizza to Brendan was on a hot day the previous summer, and she would never forget his expression when she’d arrived. She had been wearing skimpy shorts with a tube top and his eyes had narrowed with cool scorn. After that she’d started chewing gum whenever she brought food to his condo, making sure she snapped it loudly and blew at least two bubbles before he managed to pay her.
Not that she’d actually get mouthy while delivering a meal to him, but it was the sort of thing Brendan expected and she had to have a little fun. Besides, she’d grown up as the girl whose drunken father was in and out of jail for disorderly behavior, so there was no point in trying to fit in now. She might as well wear the clothes she liked and let the biddies gossip. And it wasn’t as if she was staying in Mahalaton Lake, as much as she liked it here. She wanted to get away from any reminders of her father, and having her GED would make getting a good job easier.
Of course, Brendan didn’t try to fit in, either. He wore a suit to everything, including the Founder’s Day picnic and the fire department’s monthly fund-raising dinners. Jeez, he’d been living in Mahalaton Lake for over a year; he should have loosened up by now. But there was one thing she could say for him—he tipped well.
Barbi debated for a minute before turning off the engine. She’d rather leave, but Hannah was expecting her and it would be rude. Besides, it was a chance to yank Brendan’s chain—she wasn’t delivering a pizza to him now, any more than when she saw him at one of the town’s events.
Grinning, Barbi got out of her battered Chevy; she undid the buttons on her shirt and snugly tied the tails beneath her breasts for a nice display of cleavage. Let Mr. Big Shot Attorney get a load of this.
Glancing up, she spotted a man standing at a window of Huckleberry Lodge. She waved to him. He must have gotten an eyeful when her shirt was open, but it wasn’t as if she had anything to be ashamed of—she’d stack her breasts up against any woman in Mahalaton Lake.
She trotted up the broad steps to Hannah’s porch and knocked. It seemed strange not to be carrying a pizza box; she delivered one to Hannah and Danny practically every week. And when a crowd of weekend skiers were staying at the lodge, she sometimes delivered a stack of giant pies to them three nights in a row—skiing worked up an appetite.
“Hi,” she said brightly when Brendan opened the door. “Whatcha doing here?”
“I brought dinner out for Hannah and Danny.”
“Really? I didn’t know I had competition—things must be slow at the office if you had to go into the delivery business. But I doubt you’ll get my tips—you don’t have my equipment.” She wiggled her shoulders provocatively.
It was satisfying to see Brendan focus directly on her chest. He might not approve of her showing some skin, but he wasn’t above getting his jollies at the sight. Men were predictable that way.
“For your information, I just...that is, Hannah and I...we had a meal together,” he spluttered.
“Maybe I should come back another night.”
“Nonsense.” It was Hannah and she elbowed Brendan to one side. “Brendan is just leaving. I told him we were planning to watch a movie or something.”
It was nice of Hannah to make up an explanation like that. Barbi didn’t exactly mind people knowing she was studying for her GED, but she also didn’t want to look idiotic being taught kid’s stuff in front of Brendan that she should have learned fifteen years ago in high school. He was such a snot, he’d probably think it was hilarious.
Uneven footsteps sounded on the stairs below them and Hannah’s face got tense. “Is there something you need, Mr. Hollister?” she asked.
“I just need to know where the spare lightbulbs are. The lamp in the living room blew.”
Barbi turned around. It was the hunk she’d caught watching her earlier. Yum. Tall and trim, with hair so dark it was almost black, and intense brown eyes. Brendan might be sexy if he got serious help; this guy was pure heat without even trying.
“They’re in the utility room,” Hannah said in a tight voice. “I wanted to show you where everything is, but you refused a tour of the house. Remember?”
The hunk just shrugged.
“Hi, Mr. Hollister,” Danny chirped, jumping down to the first step. “How’re ya doing? Mommy said you didn’t feel so good.”
“I’m better today.”
Danny smiled. “Super.”
“Go on inside, Barbi. You, too, Danny,” Hannah urged. She gave Brendan a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for dinner. Maybe we can get together next week. Call me in a few days.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
He fixed his tie and checked the buttons on his coat before hurrying to his Lexus. Honestly, the guy was so stuffy and correct, Barbi didn’t know how he could get by without a book of etiquette in his back pocket and a yardstick up his ass. Hannah was way too nice for him, but there weren’t that many single men in Mahalaton Lake and she’d already been married to a louse. Brendan wasn’t a louse, just dull.
Barbi winked at the hunk, and as she went into the house, she could hear a low conversation between him and Hannah.
A minute later Hannah came in and closed the door. “Let’s get started,” she said. Her tone was light, but she sure looked flustered.
* * *
ON THE TUESDAY after Jake Hollister’s arrival, Hannah knocked on the door of Huckleberry Lodge. She’d agreed to do the cleaning every Tuesday and Friday at one o’clock during the summer. Once the school year started, the time would shift to late afternoon.
“You don’t have to knock,” Jake said by way of greeting as he opened the door.
“In polite society, knocking is considered appropriate.”
“I didn’t grow up in polite society. That is, I should say traditional ‘Western’ polite society. They haven’t always had doors in the places I’ve lived. Every culture has its customs about proper behavior—the trick is learning those customs.”
“Have you made any effort to learn them here?”
Jake seemed genuinely startled. “I don’t need to. I was born in Iceland, but I’m a U.S. citizen.”
“Citizenship doesn’t guarantee you know American customs. You don’t get that kind of knowledge through an umbilical cord.”
“I’m getting by just fine.”
“Whatever.”
Hannah bent over and picked up a stack of books piled haphazardly on the floor near the native stone fireplace in the living room. Her great-aunt and uncle had loved books, and they were in abundance around the lodge, especially the classics and nonfiction.
She put the books on the built-in shelves flanking the fireplace and went into the kitchen. Phew. There was a pizza box on the sandstone counter by the stove, one on the floor, another on the window seat behind the breakfast nook and a fourth was on the table. The sink and nearby surfaces were covered with dirty dishes and cups and wadded-up napkins. A jar of raspberry jam was tipped over on its side and red syrup dripped from it onto the floor. An empty jar of peanut butter sat nearby.
Jake limped past her. He dug a slice of pizza from the box on the table, liberally sprinkled it with crushed red pepper flakes and chomped down on the crust end.
“Uh, have you eaten anything except pizza and peanut butter since you got here?” She set the jam jar upright and wiped up the mess with a wet cloth.
“I don’t cook and Luigi’s only delivers pizza. And that’s only Friday through Sunday, as you’ve pointed out.”
“Ask for Luigi when you phone and sweet-talk him into sending one of his other dishes at the same time you sweet-talk him into delivering Monday through Thursday.”
“I don’t sweet-talk well.”
She widened her eyes in mock astonishment. “Really? That’s hard to imagine when you’re so charming and tactful.”
Jake snorted and ignored her sarcasm.
Wrinkling her nose, Hannah got a plastic garbage bag from under the sink and began collecting trash. Huckleberry Lodge was equipped with the latest in kitchen appliances, yet her tenant was eating delivery pizza and peanut butter. She was appalled at his diet, but it was his concern; he was an adult, capable of choosing his own food.
“There’s still half a pizza in here,” she said, picking up the box from the floor and putting in her bag.
“It’s old. Got it on Friday and wasn’t that hungry.”
“Then this one must be from Saturday,” she said, peering into the box from the window seat. There were several pieces in that one, as well. “There’s a refrigerator, you know. It’s that large, rectangular thing over there.” She pointed to the stainless steel commercial-grade refrigerator. “Amazingly, it keeps food at a safe temperature for future consumption.”
“Very amusing. But I have an iron stomach after the way I’ve lived. Besides, I don’t cook.”
“There’s also a stove, microwave and toaster oven—reheating doesn’t require any culinary ability.”
“Neither does ordering another pizza. Got two on Sunday and figured they’d last awhile. So don’t throw those away.” He gestured to the boxes on the table and countertop.
“Well, I guess it’s a break from PB&Js.”
“PB&Js?”
“Peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. Seriously, how much time have you spent in the U.S. if you don’t know that?” Hannah swept dried crusts of bread and wadded-up paper towels into her sack of trash.
“Almost none,” Jake admitted. “I’m normally on assignment fifty weeks out of the year. And usually in remote areas. I have a small work studio in Costa Rica, but I’m hardly ever there, either.”
Lord. Hannah couldn’t imagine living like that, with no real home, just a suitcase, or whatever passed for a suitcase in his line of work. She glanced out the window at Mahala Lake, the water so blue it almost hurt her eyes. Except for the years she’d been at college, it was a sight she’d seen every day of her life, yet she never tired of it.
“Traveling can be fun, but I’m mostly a homebody,” she said, raising her chin and practically daring him to say something else that was rude. Jake had made his opinion about staying in one place quite well-known.
“Yeah, I figured that out. The domestic stuff is okay if that’s what you like, but home, marriage, kids—those things end my kind of career.”
Hannah stared. “That isn’t the first time you’ve mentioned something along those lines, and it’s starting to sound like a warning. I don’t need to be told to keep my distance. My ex-husband was a thrill seeker and I have no intention of making that mistake again. If I get married again, it’s going to be to someone stable and caring who can put me and my son first. It certainly won’t be to a man with one foot out the door and a habit of risking his neck.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Jake protested. “It’s on my mind, that’s all. I talked to my former photography assistant this morning. We won’t be working together any longer because he’s getting married, and all he could talk about was the house they’re buying and his great new job. He may be better off on his own, but he already had a great job. With me.”
“You fired him because he’s getting married? Is being single a rule in the photography business?”
Jake sank down on one of the chairs, rubbing his left leg. “I didn’t fire him, but most spouses don’t appreciate being left alone for months at a time, and Toby’s fiancée is no exception. Vera must have given him an ultimatum after the accident and he caved under the pressure.”
Hannah began putting cups in the top rack of the dishwasher, thinking about the mixed emotions on Jake’s face when he’d mentioned Toby’s enthusiasm for his new job...emotions too complicated to fathom. One thing was quite clear, however—Jake Hollister didn’t understand people who wanted a home.
“Maybe your assistant didn’t ‘cave.’ Maybe he made a choice,” she offered finally.
Jake shook his head. “Toby liked the travel. He complains about stuff, but that’s just his way—he’s the one who suggested going to the Gobi Desert three years ago. For Pete’s sake, it’s not as if he was cheating on Vera, and they talked on the satellite phone almost every day.”
“A phone call is hardly the same as having someone with you. And if Toby loved the travel that much, he didn’t have to quit.”
“But he is quitting.”
She rolled her eyes at Jake’s sulky, little-boy tone.
“Well, your feelings about domesticity are hardly a secret,” she informed him. “Whenever a reporter or an interviewer asks about marriage, you declare you’re a confirmed bachelor.”
“You’ve read about me?”
“Don’t read anything into it. The rental agent for Huckleberry Lodge was excited about the idea of a celebrity living in the area. Lillian gave me copies of various articles and talked about you incessantly.”
“I’m not a celebrity.”
“You’re the closest thing to it in Mahalaton Lake.”
Hannah put detergent in the dishwasher and started it, uncomfortably aware of Jake watching her.
“Don’t you have work to do?” she asked finally.
“Nothing important. I’m on a forced hiatus except for the fluff book I’m doing on the Cascades.”
“Excuse me?” She turned and raised her eyebrows. “Fluff?”
“The Cascade Range has been done by half the nature photographers on the planet. It’s boring.”
Hannah’s temper began to simmer again. This was her home he was insulting.
“The Cascade Mountains are among the most beautiful places in the world,” she said crisply. “We have active volcanoes, varied animal life, gorgeous wildflowers...it’s a scenic wonderland.”
“But it’s also commonplace.” Jake made a dismissive gesture. “Nothing can compare to the sight of a polar bear in its natural habitat or the power of an Amur leopard climbing up a rock face with its prey.”
“Oh? Have you ever heard the cry of a loon across the water? It’s haunting. And how about the way dogwood blossoms seem to hang in midair, glowing in the low light of a forest? A place doesn’t have to be remote to be breathtaking.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s nice.”
Hannah could tell he wasn’t convinced, but she hadn’t expected to get through to him—he’d made up his mind and that was that. She took the bag of trash out to the cans behind the garage and headed back to find Jake sitting at the farmhouse table with a laptop computer in front of him.
Pressing her lips together, she continued putting the kitchen to rights. Removing the trash was a big improvement. It was even possible that the mess was more the result of him feeling lousy than of his truly being a slob; she’d find out over the next few months as his condition improved.
“By the way, where’s your son?” Jake asked after a few minutes.
“With my parents. They went down to Portland for the day and I didn’t think you wanted him here.”
* * *
SHE’D SENT DANNY to spend the day with her parents?
A twinge of guilt went through Jake. He wasn’t a kid person, but he usually got along okay with them. It was just that first day he’d instantly envisioned having Danny underfoot all the time and hadn’t wanted to encourage that. On the other hand, he hadn’t expected to be so bored.
“You can bring him next time,” he offered, surprising himself. “I don’t mind.”
“Can I get that in writing?” Hannah asked drily.
He grinned. Hannah Nolan wasn’t what he’d expected as a landlady, but that was a good thing. He didn’t need a comfortable motherly type, fussing over him and treating him like an invalid. Hannah would be more likely to kick him in the ass than fuss.
“Whatever you like. I’ll have my lawyer contact your lawyer, and we’ll do it right. If I had to guess, that guy who visited last week is a member of the bar. Conservative suit, no sense of humor, luxury car...what else could he be?”
She pressed her lips together and began wiping the sandstone countertops. Jake hadn’t intended to let the place get so messy, but it was easy to let things go when just getting from one side of the house to the other was a pain. Literally. Yet even as the thought formed, he grimaced. He didn’t like excuses; they stank worse than week-old fish.
“So is the guy you’re dating the sensitive, vulnerable man you’re looking for?” he asked.
“Brendan is a friend. And not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t say I was looking for sensitive or vulnerable.”
“My mistake.”
Hannah tidied the sunroom before returning to the living room. He followed, to her obvious displeasure.
“I thought you were doing something on your computer.”
“I’ve never had a housekeeper before. I should see how you do things.”
She returned another stack of books to the bookcases by the fireplace. “I’m not your housekeeper. Our agreement specifies light cleaning twice a week, not to exceed two hours. You reminded me about the ‘light’ part when you arrived.”
“Sure. But don’t you think it’s mostly a question of semantics?”
“You don’t want to know what I think,” Hannah muttered.
Jake tried not to smile. It wasn’t nice of him to ruffle her feathers, but they were awfully fun to ruffle. He’d already stuck his foot into his mouth to the point she’d probably boot him out if she could get away with it. At least his lease gave him some protection.
Taking a dust mop from a closet, Hannah ran it over the hardwood floor and then dusted the flat surfaces. A citrus scent filled the air and he sniffed.
“What’s that?”
“Lemon oil. It’s good for the wood, but if you don’t like it, I’ll try to find something else.”
“It’s fine. Beats the smell of seal fat.”
“Seal fat?” Hannah shuddered. “Where is that used on floors?”
“I’m not sure about floors, but the Inupiat have uses for it, including burning it in lamps. The village where I stayed this spring is quite traditional, and still consumes seal and caribou meat as its major food sources.”
“I’m afraid seal is too exotic for me.”
“It is for most people.” He wrinkled his nose. “And to be honest, I prefer caribou. But seal isn’t bad, and I could name several other more unappetizing dishes I’ve eaten. I won’t go into the details.”
The corner of Hannah’s mouth twitched.
“On the other hand,” he said reflectively, “when you’re in an amazing place like Nepal or the Amazon basin, who cares what you’re eating?”
“Actually, a lot of people do.”
“They don’t know what they’re missing.”
“You obviously don’t know what you’re missing about the Cascade Mountain Range, either,” she returned promptly.
So that was still bothering her. Diplomacy wasn’t one of his strengths, but he was usually more tactful.
Hannah set to work again, stripping the bed and putting on fresh sheets. The bathroom and guest powder room were scrubbed with a ruthless efficiency, and Jake could tell that her primary goal was to get out of Huckleberry Lodge as quickly as possible. After dusting and straightening the library, she finished by mopping the kitchen and bundling up the linens.
“That’s all. I’ll do these over at my place.”
“Is there any way I could interest you in doing my personal laundry, as well?”
She smiled sweetly. “I’m afraid not. You have a top-of-the-line washing machine and dryer in the laundry room for that—I realize it probably doesn’t measure up to pounding clothes on rocks and rinsing them in a cold river, but it will have to do. I’ll see you on Friday.”
As the door closed behind her, Jake began to laugh.
* * *
HANNAH DUMPED JAKE Hollister’s sheets and towels on the floor of her laundry room and gave them a kick. Jackass. He’d baited her, but that wasn’t the problem. It was his attitude about the Cascades she found truly infuriating.
If he acted that way in other parts of the world, he’d probably start a war one day. Actually, she was surprised he hadn’t started one already.
Hadn’t anyone ever told him he shouldn’t insult someone’s home? It was akin to telling somebody their baby was ugly, or that they were an idiot for choosing to live in a certain place.
She loved Mahalaton Lake and having her parents a few miles away. It was great to know people on the street and be a part of their lives. She felt connected here. As a teenager she’d thought about leaving, but not any longer. Yet apparently Jake Hollister was always thinking about the next place he was going.
Hannah loaded the towels into the washer. It was a good thing she was getting so much for renting the lodge. When Lillian had told her what Jake had offered, it had seemed absurdly high, but it made more sense now. With his appalling manners, greasing the wheels with money was probably the only way he could survive.
At least she wouldn’t have to send Danny to her parents the next time she cleaned. It had hurt seeing the crushed expression on his face when he’d learned he wouldn’t be “helping” in the big house. In the way children could instantly form a liking for someone, he had decided Jake Hollister was a kindred spirit. Even Jake’s rudeness hadn’t changed how he felt.
Hannah put detergent in the washing machine and started it. Her parents would soon be back with Danny and she wanted to fix them a meal.
Determinedly putting obnoxious photographers out of her mind, she began chopping vegetables.
Two hours later the scent of garlic and other spices filled the air and she was in better sprits. The front door opened and she heard Danny call, “Hi, Mommy!”
“Hi. Did you have a good time?”
“The best! We went to the zoo and saw the polar bears, just like the ones Mr. Hollister takes pictures of.”
Her dad kissed her forehead. “Smells wonderful, sweetheart.”
“It’s Thai chicken. You and I will have to spice it up with chili garlic sauce since I made it mild for the wimps.”
“I heard that,” her mom called from the other room.
Hannah grinned.
“How was Mr. Hollister?” her father asked.
Her grin faded. “Fine, as far as I could tell. But he’s a slob. No wonder he wanted someone to clean house. What a mess—jam dripping onto the kitchen floor, things thrown about, Great-Aunt Elkie’s books all over the living room.”
Hannah’s mother hurried in, frowning. “Has he done any damage to the lodge or furnishings?”
“Not as far as I could tell. Honestly, though, I think the only things he’s eaten since getting here are Luigi’s pizza and peanut butter. Cold pizza, most of the time.”
“Pizza is yummy,” Danny said.
“I know, darling. But once a week is enough. That way it stays a treat. And we like it nice and hot, not cold and stale.”
“Uh-huh. Poor Mr. Hollister.”
Hannah nearly choked.
She did not feel sorry for Jake Hollister. He seemed to delight in annoying her and she’d be lucky to get through a month without him finding out how loudly she could shriek.
* * *
JAKE WAS FIXING a peanut-butter sandwich when an ambrosial smell invaded Huckleberry Lodge. He went into the sunroom and looked out the windows he’d left open. A blue SUV was parked in the driveway and he wondered if another boring suitor had arrived to court Hannah.
But it was the fragrance coming from the guesthouse that commanded most of his attention. He sniffed—lemongrass, coconut, garlic...it was as if he’d died and gone to heaven. Whatever Hannah was preparing reminded him of dishes he’d eaten in Southeast Asia and beat the hell out of another peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.
PB&J, he reminded himself.
And he could well imagine what his stubborn landlady would say if he tried to wrangle an invitation to dinner. Something sharp and pithy, no doubt. Perhaps he shouldn’t have teased her so much—if her cooking tasted as good as it smelled, it would have been worth holding his tongue for a taste.
Paying for additional services—cooking and laundry and grocery shopping—was another possibility. If he’d thought of it earlier, he might be eating something more interesting than a sandwich for dinner.
Danny, the little boy, came out on the large deck of the guesthouse. He saw Jake and began waving.
Jake waved back halfheartedly, expecting the child to take it as an invitation and come barreling over to chatter his head off. Instead Danny settled down on a chair, head bent, looking at something, with his dog next to him.
Making a face, Jake closed the windows and returned to his sandwich. The bread was getting stale and he’d used the same knife to spread the peanut butter as he’d used on the pizza earlier, so everything tasted vaguely of pepperoni. As he’d told Hannah, he’d eaten much worse in the far-flung corners of the world, but then it had been spiced with exotic scenery and anticipation of the next great photo.
A year, he thought dismally.
That was how long the doctors had said it would take for him to recover and be able to work and travel the way he’d always worked and traveled. If he pushed himself too soon, he risked permanent disability.
Not that he had to stay in Mahalaton Lake the whole time, but it was the best way to photographically capture all four seasons for the book he’d agreed to do. So that meant a year of peanut butter and pizza and a feisty landlady with a small child. Hannah might be fun to tease and a treat to look at, but he’d rarely slept two months in the same bed, much less a year.
And since lovely Hannah was off-limits—obviously not being interested in brief liaisons—he had little to look forward to in that area, either...other than frustration and cold showers.
