After five years of living on Colorado’s Western Slope, she had yet to predict which version of a storm was headed her way; often, she couldn’t even make out its direction. Like other mountains flanking the Continental Divide, the San Juans created their own weather, and it was as unpredictable as a roulette ball landing spot—not that knowing would make much difference. Drawing tiny-mountain-town duty meant having to travel from one village to another across miles and miles of unrelenting, sprawling wilderness, whether she wanted to or not. And mostly, she did not. But that would soon change.
Whoever had coined the term “flyover zones” probably meant this very landscape and the roads twisting through it, where neither humans nor reliable communication existed. While she had yet to grow tired of the scenery, she never got to enjoy it like a tourist, and driving it day after day for work was pure drudgery. And in snow and ice? Pure torture.
But she was savvy enough to understand the order of the universe: you did what you had to do in a one-woman office, especially when you were doing your damnedest to get noticed so you could work your wayoutof that office and into something bigger, better, and much more metropolitan.
Her phone jangled her out of her musings. The screen displayed her sister’s number, and Hailey eyed the sparse shelter at hand. Angling her SUV off the two-lane highway and onto a half-moon of dirt, she nosed the vehicle toward a stand of scraggly fir trees. She gave them a dubious glance before picking up her phone.
“Hey, Kaylee. I’ve got about two minutes before the mother of all thunderstorms unleashes its wrath.”
“That’s what you said on Tuesday,” her older sister scoffed.
“It’s what I say every afternoon about this time because that’s what happens every afternoon about this time.”
“Did you pull off someplace safe?” Kaylee had a knack for gliding into mothering mode at the drop of a pin … or a hailstone.
“Sorta, kinda. I’m parked off the road beside some skinny pine trees.”
“Those trees could become lances. Don’t you have any better options?”
“There’s a current shortage of garages and bomb shelters large enough to fit my car,” Hailey replied dryly. “It’s the best I can do for now.”
“Are youstillnot driving a county car?”
“Not yet. They’restillworking on it.” Like they had been for the last two years. Meanwhile, she got a decent travel stipend to offset her costs. The promise had been coming for so long it was almost more comical than it was irritating.
“Well, if they’re going to continue cheaping out, you need a new car that’s reliable so you can ditch the one that’s held together with so much bubble gum and duct tape that kids and contractors everywhere are wondering about the supply chain.”
“My travel per diem wouldn’t cover the cost of a new car. And reliability isn’t the issue here. My car is fine. It’s the storm outside that’s not. You know, the one we were discussing before you started needling me about my car?” As if on cue, a bolt of lightning ripped through the clouds, illuminating the murky sky with a sizzling flash.
Undeterred, Kaylee pressed on. “It’s not as if you can’t afford it.”
Hailey could afford it, but her current set of wheels was paid for. More importantly, she had a lifelong dream to finance. Vehicles, fashion, and a rental with more upside than her current dump all came in second to her number one priority. “Are you saying you want me to get anewcar soitcan get destroyed by hail?”
Kaylee’s long-suffering sigh was her answer. Hailey was an expert at pushing her sister’s buttons; she’d perfected it over the last twenty-six years. It wasn’t that she set out to be annoying, but it came naturally, like eating … one of her favorite pastimes.
Thunder rumbled through the ground. “You called for a reason, Kayl, and you might want to get to it sooner rather than later.”
“I was just checking to see if you know your plans yet. Are you heading here tonight or waiting until tomorrow?”
“I have one more inspection to do in a little town called Fall River. It’s about a five-hour drive from Denver, so if I get the job banged out, I’ll head to your place right after. On paper, it’s hardly a town, so I can’t imagine this particular restaurant has much of a kitchen.”
“Is this the kind of thing your new hire is going to do so you don’t have to?”
“You betcha—as soon as I get him trained. And you’d better believe I’m putting him through the crash course.” Hailey’s department had scraped together enough budget to hire a part-time assistant to help with her load. Monday would be his first day, and she couldn’t wait to fill up his weekly thirty hours.
“It’s about time they got you some help,” Kaylee declared. “I sure hope you can make it tonight.”
“Me too. I need to spend some time in a big city club, rocking to music that’snotcountry, drinking big girl beverages, dancing with big girl … men.”
Her sister gave her the obligatorytsk—the oral equivalent of an eye-roll—before they hung up. Hailey checked the sky one more time. Aftertesting her wipers, she pulled back onto the highway and headed toward her last job of the day.
Hailey cut her speedto twenty as she rolled past the historic buildings lining Bowen Street, Fall River’s only paved road, which was both the town’s main avenue and a continuation of the highway. Several blocks in, vehicles filled every parking spot as far as the eye could see. The boulevard was wide, but the overabundance of trucks and SUVs lent it an unexpected sardines-in-a-can feel.
The reason for the crowd soon became obvious as people traded places in the doorway of a tall red-brick building, some folks leaving and others filing in. With no one behind her, Hailey crawled to a stop for a better look. A huge banner draped a set of double doors, announcing a grand opening for the Miners Tavern.Cute play on the town’s mining past. Through large front windows on either side of the entrance, she saw patrons crowding an old-timey interior with a beautiful dark wooden bar that soared to an open second level. Festive balloon bouquets decorated each end of the bar top. The place exuded the warmth and charm of a bygone era and beckoned her inside to soak up its ambience.
She scanned the tavern’s neighbors that stood sentinel to the town’s past glory. A few appeared to be in some state of restoration, while others looked like rough hunks of rock waiting to be polished into sparkling gems—or dynamited. Like the humming bar, a few storefronts also buzzed with patrons, among them a coffee shop, a general store, and a place that advertised handmade soaps.
Her mind wandered to familiar possibilities. “Drop in a quaint bookstore, and it would fit in nicely with the aesthetic,” she muttered aloud.
