heard Buck’s voice, lower, soothing, though she couldn’t make out the words.
“You’ve got to be kidding. She has a baby with her?”
More quiet male talk.
The door to the guesthouse burst open, and a woman about her age, in a dark silk robe, stood, hands on hips. “Okay, spill it. What’s your story?”
The woman’s tone raised Gina’s hackles, whooshing her back to her in-laws and their demanding glares. The instinct to walk away was strong, but she had Bobby to consider. She drew in a breath and let it out slowly, a calming technique from her yoga days. “Long version or short?”
“I work all day and then come home and try to renovate this place. I’m tired.”
“Short, then. My purse was stolen, I’m out of gas and I need a place to stay.”
The woman frowned. “For how long?”
“I...don’t know. A couple of days.”
“Why can’t you call someone?”
That was the key question. How did she explain how she’d gotten so isolated from her childhood friends, how she’d needed to go to a part of the country where she didn’t know anyone, both to make a fresh start and so that her in-laws didn’t find her? “That’s in the long version.”
“So...” The woman cocked her head to one side, studying her with skepticism in every angle of her too-thin frame. “Are you part of some scam?”
“Lacey.” Buck put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “If you’re opening a guesthouse, you need to be able to welcome people.”
“If you’re serious about recovery from your drinking problem, you need to stop pulling stunts like this.”
Buck winced.
Gina reached up to rub her aching shoulder. Great. Another addict.
The woman drew in a breath, visibly trying to remain calm. “I’m sorry. But you’re blinded by how she looks like Ivana. Stuff like this happens all the time in big cities. We have to be careful.”
Bobby stirred and let out a little cry, and as Gina swayed to calm him, something inside her hardened. She was tired of explaining herself to other people. If she weren’t in such dire straits, she’d walk right down those pretty, welcoming porch steps and off into the night. “You can search me. All I’ve got is this diaper bag.” She shifted and held it out to the woman. “It’s hard to run a scam with an infant tagging along.”
Buck raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment, and scarily enough, she could read what he was thinking. So you don’t have a gun in there.
Of course she didn’t.
The woman, Lacey, took it, set it down on the table and pawed through.
Gina’s stomach tightened.
Bobby started to cry in earnest. “Shh,” she soothed. He needed a diaper change, a feeding and bed. She could only hope the trauma and changes of the past few days wouldn’t damage him, that her own love and commitment and consistency would be enough.
“Look, you can stay tonight and we’ll talk in the morning.” With a noisy sigh, the woman turned away, but not before Gina saw a pained expression on her face. “You settle her in,” she said to Buck. “Put her in the Escher.” She stormed inside, letting the screen door bang behind her.
* * *
Buck felt tired, inescapably tired, but also keyed up to where he knew he wasn’t going to sleep. “Come on,” he said to the beautiful stranger.
But she didn’t follow. “This isn’t going to work out. I’ll find something else.”
“There’s no place else.” He picked up her bag and beckoned her inside, with Crater padding behind him. “Don’t worry, Lacey will be more hospitable in the morning.” Maybe. He knew what else had bothered Lacey, besides the fact that she’d rescued him one too many times from some late-night escapade: Gina’s little boy. Just last year, Lacey had miscarried the baby who was all she had left of her soldier husband. Seeing someone who apparently wasn’t taking good care of her own child had to infuriate her.
He wasn’t sure his sister’s judgment was fair; Gina might be doing the best she could for her baby, might be on the run from some danger worse than whatever she’d be likely to face on an Ohio country road.
He led her through the vinyl sheeting and raw boards that were the future breakfast room, up the stairs and into the hallway that housed the guest rooms. “Here’s the only other finished one, besides mine,” he said, stopping at the room called the Escher. He opened the door and let her enter before him, ordering Crater to lie down just inside the door.
Gina looked around, laughing with apparent delight. “This is amazing!”
The bed appeared to float and the walls held prints by a modern artist Buck had only recently learned about. The nightstand was made to look like it was on its side, and the rug created an optical illusion of a spiraling series of stair steps.
“Lacey was an art history major in college,” he explained. “She’s hoping to coordinate with the new art museum to attract guests.”
“That’s so cool!” Gina walked from picture to picture, joggling the baby so he wouldn’t fuss. “I love Escher.”
He felt a reluctant flash of liking for this woman who could spare the energy for art appreciation at a time like this. He also noticed that she knew who Escher was, which was more than he had, until Lacey had educated him.
His curiosity about Gina kicked up a notch. She appeared to be destitute and basically homeless, but she was obviously educated. He scanned her slim-fitting trousers and crisp shirt: definitely expensive. Those diamond studs in her ears looked real.
So why’d she been walking along a country road at night?
She put the baby down on the bed and pulled out a diaper pad. “Sorry, he needs a change.”
“Sheets and towels here,” he said, tapping a cabinet. “There might even be soap. Gina already let one couple stay here for a honeymoon visit.”
She turned to him, one hand on the baby’s chest. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
“No problem.” Though it was. “I’ll be right next door if you need anything.”
She swallowed visibly. “Okay.”
Unwanted compassion hit him. She was alone and scared in a strange place. “Look, Lacey is a real light sleeper. She’ll wake up if there’s any disturbance. And... I can leave Crater here if you want a guard dog.”
“Thank you. That would be wonderful.” She put a hand on his arm. “You’ve been amazing.”
He didn’t need her touching him. He backed away so quickly he bumped against the open door. “Stay, boy,” he ordered Crater and then let himself out.
And stood in the hallway, listening to her cooing to her baby while a battle waged inside him. He wanted a drink in the worst way.
He reached down, but of course, Crater wasn’t there to calm him. He took one step toward the front door. Stopped. Tried to picture his recovery mentor.
Wondered whether the bar out by the highway was still open.
Ten minutes later, after a phone call to his mentor, he tossed restlessly in his bed. It was going to be a long night.
A hoarse shout woke Gina out of a restless sleep.
Instinctively, she reached for Bobby. She found him in the nest she’d made with rolled