Page 25 of The Guest Cottage
“It makes a huge difference to a person’s mindset.” Quiet settled around them when he turned off the truck. The headlights faded to black, leaving them in a cocoon of shadows that the security lights around the tavern couldn’t penetrate. “Mom came from nothing. It took her a long time to get used to having a house of her own. She didn’t need to work—I didn’t want her to work—but when I saw her in the tavern, I knew she was thriving.”
Parts of him called to parts of her. Understanding, empathy. As if his thoughts became her own, she felt his consternation, and his satisfaction.
She stopped fighting the urge to touch him, and in fact, it seemed incredibly natural to settle her hand on his forearm, even when his muscles and tendons tightened beneath her palm. “Working gives us all a sense of accomplishment. In a way, it gives us self-worth and brings balance to our lives.”
Briefly, he covered her hand with his own. His palm was warm and rough, twice the size of hers, and somehow that touch felt like more than it was.
Then he retreated to open his door and step out, and the moment was gone. Unsure whether she was relieved or disappointed, Marlow hurried to meet him at the front of the truck.
Cort paused. “Mom said working made her whole.”
Happy that he wanted to continue the discussion, Marlow explained how it made her feel. “Working is more than labor. It’s thought and effort, and reward when you’re paid. It’s having enough to buy someone a gift, and making sure your bills are covered. It’s self-reliance. Autonomy.” She thought of the big accounts she’d handled at her old job, the revenue she’d brought in. “It’s a boost to confidence. And sometimes pride.”
Staring down at her in the dim light, his eyes dark, his gaze intent, Cort slowly smiled. “Guess that covers it.” He held open the tavern door. “Time to get your T-shirts.”
Her heart jumped in excitement—for about a dozen different reasons. She could hardly wait.
CHAPTER4
Her first week as a server was quite the experience. Her feet ached, her back felt strained, and her cheeks hurt from smiling.
Pride kept her going, and by the sixth day, she was, as Herman put it, settling in. She found a rhythm to gathering orders and moving between the tables. She learned the shortcut terms for menu items so she had less to write down.
The pay was okay, and she did great in tips.
It was a giddy feeling, getting a generous tip from a customer. It was a monetary compliment, and she liked it.
The weekend crowd was, as Cort had predicted, very different but still manageable. It was as they were closing on Saturday night, long past her recent bedtime since moving to Bramble, that she saw the framed photo on the wall.
She recognized the handsome Marine right away. Cort.
It was a younger version of him, appearing so serious, so capable. Actually, he always looked like that, but he was more somber in the photo.
Herman came up behind her. “Our local hero.”
Marlow finished putting up the chair. “He said his mother worked here.”
“Nora was a treat.” He glanced around, saw they were alone, and propped a shoulder against the wall. “Cort was a lot younger when he brought her to us. Twenty-five or so. Nora had a bastard of a husband who’d treated her badly.”
Folding her arms around herself, Marlow took an uneasy breath and wondered if she should be hearing this. Despite her curiosity, she didn’t want to take part in gossip, not when she’d so hated being the subject of it. “If this is private stuff—”
“Cort doesn’t talk about it, but Nora did. Everyone around here knows. See, she was pretty battered when we met her.”
Her arms dropped. “Battered?”
Sad and disapproving, Herman nodded. “She’d married young, and he’d always been awful to her. When Cort was twelve, he started fighting back. Nora said he took a few beatings trying to protect her, and it nearly destroyed her. She knew she had to get out. Thing was, she didn’t have anywhere stable to go. No family or anything. She and Cort moved around a lot, she worked wherever she could, went hungry a few times I suspect, but they got by. Cort worked too, but as soon as he was seventeen, he enlisted.”
With a shattered heart, she whispered, “Seventeen?” That sounded incredibly young to her, but given what he’d been through, the ordeals he’d suffered, he must have been anxious for an escape. She tried to remember herself at that age, and she knew she couldn’t compare to Cort.
“Got his GED, convinced Nora it was what he wanted, and off he went. Sent every dime he could back to her, because even at seventeen, that’s the kind of man he was.”
Honest to God, Herman sounded like a proud father. She was starting to understand why the people around here cared so much for Cort.
And why she thought about him so often.
“Nora saved the money for him, and then after a few reenlistment bonuses, he got her a place here.”
What a remarkable man.
