Chapter 1
Dori felt as though she’d driven off the map and into some strange alternate universe where the only two kinds of vehicles in existence were Priuses and pickup trucks. She hadn’t seen another model of car since she’d left the airport.
The only other thing in this universe was trees. Ever since she’d passed through the town of Newberg, it had been nothing but trees and the occasional, fleeting glimpse of some large animal darting into the deep woods. A deer, she supposed; what else could it be?
She couldn’t be far from her destination. She’d been driving for close to an hour and a half now. Ash’s vague directions and the map she’d bought back at the U-Haul rental place back in Portland both agreed. Barring weather-related delays, the drive from the airport to the town of Romance – if she hadn’t seen the name in black and white on the map, she wouldn’t have believed it - should take an hour and forty minutes.
The scenery was beautiful, there was no denying that, but there was so much of it. She’d never really considered herself a “city girl” but, on reflection, that was only because she’d never really been out of one for any length of time. A fish didn’t know it was wet, after all.
Sure, she enjoyed a walk in Central Park now and then. Who didn’t? But it was always just a walk. She got her fill of trees and squirrels and whatever else nature had to offer, and she went back down into the subway, then to her safe, climate-controlled apartment where a simple phone call would summon Mr. Ping and an order of Special Spicy Chicken with Fried Meat Dumplings on the side. Nice and clean and civilized.
Here, there was no escaping nature, nowhere that a person wouldn’t be surrounded by trees and deer – and didn’t deer carry ticks? There was no chance of catching Lyme Disease in her 9 floor apartment in Brooklyn. None at all.
Still, she could cope with it for a little while. She’d only be here two days, three tops. Just long enough to help out her friend Ash. Ash had inherited a house in Romance, and hoped to turn it into a restaurant, and Dori had agreed to come out ahead of her. The main thing Ash needed was for Dori to settle a deal to buy some used appliances from a restaurant in Portland and bring them to Romance. The deal had been made, and Dori had gotten Ash a fantastic price.
In addition, Dori had taken it upon herself to order a home inspection. She’d assumed that, because Ash had inherited the house rather than bought it, she didn’t have it inspected. It was a good thing Dori had done it, because the inspection revealed several problems. There was a burst pipe, none of the toilets were working, and there were what the inspector had vaguely termed “wiring issues.” So Dori had instructed the inspector to start work even before she arrived, using whichever local contractors he felt comfortable with. Ash would be out here in two weeks, and Dori wanted everything to be perfect for her friend, or as close as she could manage.
There! There was the sign she’d been looking for: “Romance – 3 miles ahead.” With a heart. Of course with a heart; Dori imagined that this little town caused statewide shortages in red paint a couple of times a year.
And there, up ahead, finally, was another car. Another Prius, of course. She followed it those last three miles, growing a little nervous as the road narrowed. It wasn’t really two proper lanes anymore, in her opinion. That was fine for the tiny hybrid in front of her, but the rental truck she was driving was another matter. Thankfully, there was nobody coming the other way, and she made it into town without incident.
Dori had no trouble finding her destination. There was a parking spot right in front of 107 Georgiana St., the home of her friend’s brand new restaurant-to-be. It didn’t look much like a restaurant now, but she could see the possibilities. Surely Ash wouldn’t mind if, in addition to the appliances and the plumbing and electrical work, Dori came up with a few ideas, got a few estimates and left behind a remodel plan that needed only Ash’s signature to get started.
Job one was getting the appliances unloaded from the truck and moved into the kitchen, assuming the kitchen was in any state to receive them. She had barely stepped out of the truck when an answer presented itself, in the form of three teenage boys, all wearing letterman jackets, right across the street.
Dori whistled, a loud, piercing sound that she’d perfected back in her own high school days. Growing up with four siblings, it had been the best way of cutting through the constant noise around the house when she really needed everyone’s attention. “Hey, guys! Can you give a girl a little help?” To emphasize the “girl,” she gave her hair a good toss, something else she’d perfected back in high school. “I need some strong muscles, and you guys look like you’ve got them.”
The trio of boys stopped, and the tallest of them turned hesitantly to look at her. She supposed that in a sleepy little town like this, they weren’t used to being catcalled while heading to – well, wherever it was that teenage boys went after school in a small town.
Soon, all three boys were staring at her, but making no move to cross the street. An ally appeared a moment later, though. A man in a sports jacket and jeans called out to them. “And here I was hoping I taught you guys some manners. A lady asks you for help and you just walk on by?”
The tallest boy answered, in exactly the same whine Dori’s younger brother had once used when he was complaining about his chores. “C’mon, Mr. Elders! We’re heading over to Julie’s house, she’s waiting for us.”
The man, clearly one of their teachers, wasn’t having it. “You can go sit in Julie’s basement with her friends, eat her mother’s food, and all text at each other even though you’re all in the same room later. After you do your duty as gentlemen.”
The boys all slouched their way across the street to Dori. The tall boy spoke, making a mostly successful effort to stop whining. “Ma’am, may we be of assistance?” As he said it, he glanced over to his teacher, who nodded his approval and then grinned at Dori.
She returned his smile and turned her attention to her new workforce. “Thank you so much. You guys are my knights in shining armor.” Puffing up the egos of teenage boys usually worked wonders to motivate them, in Dori’s experience. “And I promise, it won’t take long. Especially with three big, strong men like yourselves.”
The whining was completely gone in the tall boy’s voice now. “Well, we’re all on the football team, so, you know, we spend, like, an hour every day in the weight room.”
“I can see that,” Dori said. “I bet you three have your pick of any girl in your school.” All the boys were standing tall now, and she knew they’d do anything she asked. “I promise I won’t keep you from – what did you say your friend’s name was? Julie, right? I promise you’ll be on your way in twenty minutes, tops.”
It only took fifteen; her helpers made short work of unloading the truck. Everything was in the kitchen, in more-or-less the correct spot. None of it was hooked up, of course. That wasn’t part of the plan, and, anyway, she didn’t trust high school boys – or herself – when it came to messing around with water pipes or gas lines.
Dori thanked her workers and sent them on their way, but not before handing each of the boys a “coupon” to be redeemed when Ash got the place open for business. She’d taken her own business cards, and scribbled “good for dinner for two plus dessert” on the back. “Let me give you some free advice,” she told them. “Bring your girlfriends with you, and spend the money you save on their meal and buy them some flowers. You can’t go wrong with flowers and a nice dinner. Trust me on that one.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said, in perfect unison, and Dori could hear the sincerity in their voices. It was the kind of deal she liked best – a perfect win-win. She got the job done without having to lift or carry anything herself, the boys got an opportunity for a cheap but still classy date, their girlfriends would get flowers, and Ash would get some great word-of-mouth advertising. You couldn’t beat that for fifteen minutes’ work.
Her next task was sorting out the contractors. Only one of them was working this afternoon – the electrician. He was young, probably not even thirty yet, rail-thin and wearing flannel, which was no surprise. Flannel was the official uniform of the Pacific Northwest, wasn’t it? The man introduced himself as Josh Chadwick. “So that’s your name on the truck across the street?”
“Yes, for as long as the bank says I can keep it there,” he answered. That didn’t surprise Dori; most of the small business owners she knew could say the same.
“Good luck with that,” she said. “My friend’s going to be in the same boat once she gets set up here, if she’s not already.” Dori didn’t have that problem herself, but only because she didn’t have a building she needed to keep up for her business, or even a truck for that matter. All she had was herself, her cell phone, her other cellphone, her other other cell phone, and a ledger she didn’t dare keep anywhere but her brain, detailing every favor she owed or was owed. None of that required financial backing from a bank. “Speaking of Ash, can I tell her you’re going to have everything fixed on time, and up to code?”
“You can tell her the wiring will be finished tomorrow, and then all she has to do is call the electric company to turn the juice on.” He held her eyes as he said it, and she was convinced. Dori always trusted her instincts, and her instincts told her this guy would be true to his word.
“That’s fantastic,” she said. Based on the schedule she’d sketched out, the electric work was set to go on into next week. This would put the whole job well ahead of schedule. “That means I can get the drywall guy started tomorrow instead of next Tuesday. You do that, you clear out by noon or so tomorrow, and there’s a bonus in it for you.”
She had no idea if Ash’s finances actually allowed for a bonus, but there was always a way to find a couple hundred bucks somewhere. Especially when it bought goodwill from the guy who was responsible for making sure your building didn’t burn down when you tried to turn the lights on.
His eyes widened – not so much with greed, as with hope, or maybe relief – when she mentioned the bonus. That meant his relationship with the bank was a precarious one. But when he answered her, he was all calm and professionalism. “That’s not necessary, Miss…”
“Costello. Dori Costello.” She extended a hand, and he shook it. “But drop the Miss, please. It’s just Dori.”
“Dori,” he agreed. “It’s really not necessary. I’m just doing my job here.” He protested a little too much, in Dori’s opinion. She wondered just how tough his financial situation was, but then dismissed the thought. It was none of her business.
“I’ll leave you to it. It was nice to meet you, Josh.” It had been, too. It was always nice to meet people whom you could trust, and who were actually competent at their job. In her experience, that combination was not exactly common.
She left him to his work; there was no point standing around and getting in his way. A much better use of her time would be finding someplace to get a good meal, and then checking into her room at – she pulled out her phone to remind herself – the Interlude Inn. She couldn’t help but laugh at the name. Here, in a town called Romance, filled with friendly, honest, flannel-wearing folk, the name was probably considered perfectly innocent. Back in New York City, a hotel called the Interlude Inn would have an entirely different reputation.
Dori was still chuckling about that when she got out to the street. She was finally distracted by something brushing against her leg as it passed by her at top speed. It was white and furry and, seemingly, running for its life.
And now it was running into the street. Right into the path of a truck. There was no conscious thought involved, just instinct, when Dori ran after the dog, shouting, “Oh, my God, stop!” She wasn’t even sure whether she was yelling at the dog or the truck. It didn’t really matter. The only thing that did matter was what happened next.
Her left foot caught on something, but the remainder of her leg, and the rest of her body, kept moving forward. She heard a sudden crack, and she knew what it meant, even though she’d never broken a bone before. She felt herself falling forward, she felt a searing pain in her left ankle, she heard an inhuman shriek come from her throat. Then her head hit the pavement and everything went black.
~*~
When Lucas started breathing again, there were three very insistent thoughts going through his mind:
Please, God, let the woman be all right.
Please, God, let the dog be all right.
Please, God, let it all be all right, because an accident will put me out of business for good.
He jumped out of the truck and ran to the woman. He could see before he leaned down that he hadn’t hit her. She lay there in the middle of the street, only two or maybe three feet in front of his truck, but there was no sign of impact. He had slammed on the brakes just in time; she must have tripped and fallen and hit her head.
As he bent down, he could hear her breathing, and see her chest slowly rising and falling. Thank God. The dog was safe, too, and, unlike the woman, totally uninjured. She had stationed herself next to the woman, licking her hand in a pointless effort to get her to wake up.
He took a deep breath and tried to play back the two or three seconds of the accident – not that it even was one, technically. He’d seen the dog, running out into the street right in front of him, he’d immediately stomped on the brake pedal, and then the woman had come into view. She’d already been falling, she must have lost her balance in an effort to try and catch the dog.
No accident at all. No reason to call the police – or the insurance company. But something still had to be done, and nobody else was around. Nobody had witnessed what had happened, and this woman, whoever she was, needed medical attention.
She wasn’t local, Lucas was sure of that. He couldn’t say that he knew every woman in Romance, but he was certain that he would have noticed someone as pretty – or maybe beautiful was a better word – as this woman if she were a local.
Local or not, she had to go to the hospital. He probably ought to call 911, request an ambulance, but from the way she lay on the ground, he didn’t think there was any chance of a spinal injury. It was safe for him to move her, and he lifted her up in one fluid movement. The dog began to bark at him, but she didn’t do any more than that. She must have been smart enough to realize that biting him would only cause him to drop her owner.
He walked her around to the passenger side, somehow managed to get the door open, and placed her gently onto the seat. He buckled her in, and as he did so he couldn’t help but notice her perfume. Even mixed in with the odors of dirt and grease and dog, he could pick out the flowery, feminine scent. It suited her.