Deep Freeze (West Coast 1) - Page 12

Jenna snapped off the set. “Let’s go,” she said.

Cassie stared at her mother as if Jenna were out of her mind. “I told you I can’t go to school like this.”

“And you were wrong. Move it. I don’t have time to argue.”

Muttering under her breath, Cassie shoved her uneaten breakfast aside and banged up the stairs.

“You, too,” Jenna said, pointing a finger at her youngest daughter. The waffles were nearly gone.

“My throat really, really hurts.”

This was just Allie’s most recent ploy to avoid going to Harrington Junior High. Jenna wasn’t buying it. Especially when she saw how easily Allie swallowed her juice. “I think you’ll live…but I’ll call the school later and see how you’re doing. Now, let’s go.”

Seeming to decide that her current strategy wasn’t working, Allie crammed the last piece of waffle into her mouth and flew up the stairs while Jenna dialed Hans Dvorak, a retired horse trainer and now part-time foreman of her small ranch. Hans, like Critter, had come with the property. He picked up on the third ring, his voice deep and rattling from too many years of cigarettes. “Hello?”

“Hans, it’s Jenna.”

“Just on my way over,” the older man said quickly, as if he were late.

“And I’m taking the kids to school now, but we’ve got a little problem here.” As she heard one of her girls clomping down the stairs, she explained about the lack of water.

“Probably the pump,” he said. “It’s had an electrical problem. Happened before, ’bout five years back.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll give it a try. You might need an electrician, though, or some kind of handyman who knows more about wiring than I do—possibly a plumber as well.”

Jenna inwardly groaned at the thought, though she did know Wes Allen, an electrician and sometime artist who did work at Columbia Theater in the Gorge, the local theater where she volunteered. Then there was Scott Dalinsky, who, too, helped out with the lights and audio equipment at the theater, though Jenna wouldn’t trust him with work at her house. Even though he was Wes’s nephew and her friend Rinda’s son, Jenna felt uncomfortable around Scott. She’d caught him staring at her one too many times to feel at ease with him.

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” Hans said.

“Thanks.”

Hans was a godsend. At seventy-three, he still helped with the livestock and kept the place running. He’d been the caretaker for the previous owners and when Jenna had moved into the house, she’d nearly begged him to stay on. He’d agreed and she’d never regretted the decision for a second. Today was no exception. If Hans couldn’t fix what was wrong, he’d find someone who could.

Allie, her wild hair somewhat tamed, walked into the room. She was already wearing a fleece jacket and had the strap of her backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Did you brush your teeth?” Jenna asked, then realized what she was saying. “I know this isn’t what the Dental Association would suggest, but chew some gum on the way to school if your teeth feel fuzzy.”

“They’re fine,” Allie said in a weak voice, gently reminding her mother that she wasn’t well.

“You’ve got a math test today, right? Ready for it?”

Frown lines drew Allie’s eyebrows together, and for an instant she was the spitting image of her father. “I hate math.”

“You’ve always been good at math.”

“But it’s pre-algebra.” Allie’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Yeah, well, we all suffered through it,” Jenna said, then heard herself and thought better of her response. She pulled her jacket off a peg near the back door and slipped her arms through its sleeves. “Look, I’ll try to help you with it tonight and if I can’t, maybe Mr. Brennan can. He was an engineer and in the Air Force and—”

“No!” Allie said quickly, and Jenna backed off. Neither of her daughters was comfortable with their mother dating, even though since the divorce Robert had remarried twice. A record even by Hollywood standards. Harrison Brennan was their neighbor, ex-military, and a widower. He’d shown more than a passing interest in Jenna since she moved in and yet hadn’t treated her with the kid gloves and awestruck attitude of many of the townspeople when she’d first moved to Falls Crossing.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” she said, marching to the bottom of the stairs as she tugged on a pair of leather gloves. “Cassie, get a move on! We’ll be in the car!”

“I’m coming, okay?”

“Yeah, right.” Back in the kitchen, she said to Allie, “Let’s go warm up the car,” and was out the back door in a heartbeat. Outside, the air was cold as ice and just as brittle. It swept over the covered walkway and caught in her hair. As she unlocked the garage door, she caught a glimpse of the sky. Low, gunmetal gray clouds skimmed the surrounding hills and threatened snow, just as the weatherman had predicted. “Brrr,” Jenna muttered, shivering and promising herself that next summer she would enclose this breezeway with triple-paned, insulated windows and add heat.

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
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