A modest lawn lay like an amnesty zone between her and a lush spread of evergreen and poplar trees that circled the cabin like a military strike force. In the distance, she could see sunlight dancing off the lake like diamonds on the water. But the area was isolated. Audra didn’t do isolated. She’d texted her parents after she’d checked into the resort to let them know she’d arrived safely. Maybe she should have waited.
“This place is like Mayberry’s version of the Bates Motel.” She turned from the window. “How is this supposed to cure my insomnia?”
“Writing will cure your insomnia.”
“Have you been to these cabins?”
“No. When I was growing up in Trinity Falls, Harmony Cabins went into bankruptcy and was abandoned. They’ve only recently been renovated.”
“I’m coming home.” But first, she’d take a nap. The red-eye flight was catching up with her.
The cabin itself was lovely. The great room’s walls, floors and ceiling were made of gleaming honey wood. The granite stone fireplace dominated the room. But a large flat-screen, cable-ready television reassured her she’d have something to do at night. The comfortable furnishings that were missing from the main cabin were scattered around this room: an overstuffed sofa and fat fabric chairs. The décor was decidedly masculine, though; it was black leather and dark plaids. That would explain the lack of curtains at the windows.
“You promised me you’d give it thirty days, Audra.” The clicking of Benita’s computer keyboard sounded just under her words. “I sent the rental a nonrefundable check for the full amount of your stay in advance.”
Audra frowned. Benita’s check had allowed her to register as Penny Lane. “It was your check, but my money. If I want to cancel this anti-vacation vacation, I will.”
They both recognized the empty threat. The cost of a monthlong stay at a cabin rental was too much to waste.
Benita’s exasperated sigh traveled almost twenty-five hundred miles and three time zones through the cell phone. “You owe the record producer three hit songs by the end of the month. How are they coming?”
Audra ground her teeth. Benita knew very well she hadn’t made any progress on the project. “How can you believe this place is the solution? You’ve never even been here.”
“Do you really think I’d send you someplace that wasn’t safe? I have family in Trinity Falls. If there were serial killers there, I’d know it.”
Audra tugged on her right earlobe. She was angry because she was scared, and scared because she was outside her comfort zone. “I don’t want to be here. It’s not what I’m used to.”
“That’s why you need to be there. And this is the best time. Trinity Falls is celebrating its sesquicentennial. The town’s hosting a Founders Day celebration at the beginning of August. I’ll be there.”
“One hundred and fifty years. Big deal.”
Benita chuckled. “I’ll see you in a month.”
&nbs
p; Audra stared at her cell phone. Benita had ended their call. “I guess that means I’m staying.” She shoved her cell phone into the front pocket of her jeans shorts and turned back to the window. “In that case, I’ll need curtains.”
The chimes above the main cabin’s front door sang. With three keystrokes, Jackson locked his laptop and pushed away from his desk. The cabins had had more activity today than they’d ever had.
Jackson paused in his office doorway. It wasn’t a surprise to see that the chair of the Trinity Falls Sesquicentennial Steering Committee had returned to his front desk. Doreen Fever was a determined woman.
“Afternoon, Doreen.” He knew why she was there. She wanted every citizen to be involved in the festivities surrounding the town’s 150th birthday. The problem was, Jackson wasn’t a joiner.
“I’m still amazed by how much you’ve accomplished with the rentals in so little time.” Doreen gazed around the reception area.
“Thank you.”
Doreen was the town’s sole mayoral candidate. She also was the artist behind the bakery operation of Books & Bakery and the mother of a former schoolmate—though Doreen looked too young to have an only child who was just two years younger than Jackson. Her cinnamon brown skin was smooth and radiant. Her short, curly hair was dark brown. And her warm brown eyes were full of empathy. Jackson didn’t want anyone’s empathy. Not even someone as genuine and caring as Doreen.
“I hear you have a lodger.” Doreen folded her hands on the counter between them.
“Not by choice.” How did the residents of Trinity Falls learn everyone else’s business so fast? His guest hadn’t even been here a full day.
Confusion flickered across Doreen’s features before she masked it with a polite nod. “A young woman.”
“I noticed.”
“I’m glad to see the cabins’ renovations are going well and that you’re taking in customers.”