“I’m Hailey.”
“Yes, Hailey Bailey.” Dixie nodded solemnly, bobbing her extra-large gold hoop earrings. She jabbed a curved red thumbnail toward the fridge. “I wasn’t sure what your poison of choice was, so I brought over a few beers, a split of white and one of red—you know, I’ve always said these verbo rentals should provide those to their guests, but what can I say, it ain’t my place—and a quart of root beer, which is one of my personal favorites.”
Hailey’s first impulse was to counter Dixie’s assumption this was an up-and-running VRBO, but she found herself struggling to keep up with the woman’s dizzying dialogue.
“Oh,” Dixie ran on, “and I snuck you a mud pie—not that the boss would mind—and a pint of milk to go with it.”
“Um, thank you.”
Dixie waved her off. “Don’t thank me, honey. You can thank the boss.” She spread her hands wide. “This was all his idea.”
“And whoisthe boss, exactly?”
Dixie’s russet brows knotted over her blue-shadowed eyes. She chewed on the tip of a fingernail as if debating a ponderous problem. “Well, now that I think on it, he might not want you to know this was his doing, though I can’t imagine why.” She mumbled the last bit to herself but quickly brightened. “It’s all so roooomantic!”
What?“If I don’t know who he is, how can I thank him?” Hailey gave herself a back pat for coming up with the posit in her current state of delirium.
Dixie offered her a sly smile. “Well, the Miners Tavern sits on Bowen Street, and Bowen is his mama’s maiden name.” She shook her finger. “Now don’t you tell him I gave you that hint. I better get back before Dewey wonders where I got off to.” With that, Dixie turned on her snow-booted heels and sashayed out the front door, leaving Hailey more confused than when she’d first arrived.
“Thatwas a hint?” she said to the closed door. “How the hell does someone’s maiden name, a street, and a bar point to a mystery man’s identity?”
She shook her head, but it didn’t clear the fog from her brain. Maybe she had imagined the bizarre encounter. After blinking a few times, she told her feet to move toward the fridge, where she found the promised drinks, a foil-covered bowl, and a plastic-wrapped paper plate holding a wedge of mud pie the size of her head. Were the treats courtesy of a bar manager named Dewey? If so, how would this Dewey person know who Hailey was and that she was staying here? And how could he be romantically interested in her if she’d never met him?
Her head hurt too much to puzzle out the mystery, and her stomach rumbled loudly, not caring about anything but the food waiting to be consumed.
Dixie rushed back through her front door, and Hailey nearly dropped the beer she had just lifted from the fridge. “I forgot to tell you that your dog is at Doc Embry’s,” she panted, “and that you can see him any time after eight tomorrow morning. Bye now.”
Before Hailey could ask who Doc Embry was and where to find him, Dixie darted back out. As soon as the woman exited, Hailey strode to the door and threw the lock.
When Hailey woke thefollowing morning, it was still dark, though her phone told her it wasn’tthatearly: six fifteen. It also told her it was Saint Patrick’s Day with tiny dancing shamrocks. When she peered out the window, the sky above was robin’s-egg blue, but the jagged peaks surrounding the town crowded out the sunlight, leaving it in morning shadows.
After puzzling out the coffeemaker, she plunked down at a sturdy wooden table and tapped out an email to Cliff, letting him know she was stranded and wouldn’t be in. She told herself she was merely letting her co-worker know, when in reality she was reporting her absence to her boss. She tried not to let the new dynamic fester and went to work finding a way to get her 4Runner down from Coal Bank Pass. A searchrevealed Noah’s friend, Micky, held the monopoly in Fall River, but it was too early to call, so she looked up the town’s sole veterinary office. Surprise, surprise, it was on Bowen Street.
With time to spare before the clinic opened, she showered, dressed, and ate her only leftover, the mud pie, as she contemplated small-town living. It had its appeal, but would it also be a pain in the butt? Everybody knowing what you were up to—and walking into your dwelling unannounced—not to mention a limited choice on where to take your business if you wanted to stick close. And if you didn’t own one of those businesses, what did you do for a paycheck?
Noah tended bar, Charlie was a contractor, and Reece worked search and rescue. That last one was probably a volunteer position, so Reecedidn’tmake money at it. The first two jobs didn’t pay well in a town of six hundred. Not that she was looking for work, but after growing up destitute, Hailey often pondered different ways of earning a wage … like making backup plans she didn’t need.
A little before eight, she dialed Micky’s shop but got no answer. She yanked on her coat, gloves, and knit cap and stepped into the brisk mountain air. The sun had crested the peaks, and Fall River was awash in sunlight that bounced off the glitter blanket of snow. Bowen Street’s parking spaces were empty, unlike the last time she’d been here, and the sidewalks had been shoveled.
Walking along the quiet street, she passed closed-up businesses. Her gaze was pulled by eye-fetching display windows filled with antiques, artwork, and jewelry, giving her a close-up view she hadn’t appreciated last May. A few of the boutique-y shops were housed in meticulously restored buildings, and her mind wandered to whether Charlie had fixed them up.
She passed city hall, where an old-fashioned bell hung inside an ornate cupola, and stopped a moment to admire the Miners Tavern and another elegant building from the past called the Grand Majestic Hotel.
Even in its shuttered, early-morning state, the town’s past stylish sophistication and future potential charm were on display.
“Hailey Bailey!” someone greeted from the next block. A tall man with blond hair in a sheepskin-lined plaid coat waved a gloved hand at her. A grin split her face as she rushed toward Charlie.
His beaming smile widened as she grew closer. “You look like you’re feeling much better this morning.”
“I am, thanks to you and your brothers.” She reined in the urge to push up on tiptoe and peek over his shoulders. “Have you, um, heard from Noah today? I hope he’s recovered.”
He lifted his chin toward the tavern. “He was fine when I left him last night.”
“He didn’t go to work, did he?”
“He wasn’t behind the bar, but he’s always on the clock. I’m sure he didn’t crash until he was sure everything was buttoned up.”
“So he manages the tavern too?”
