flag someone down and catch a ride into Timberlane.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. “I’ll take you into Timberlane. No telling who might pick you up.”
She had trouble controlling a swell of laughter and covered her mouth to muffle it.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just that…that…” She didn’t know how to explain that it was likely that anyone picking her up would have frightened her as much as he had.
“Oh, I get it.” His brown eyes suddenly darkened with black flecks. “You’d rather take your chances with anyone but me.”
“No, not now,” she countered quickly. “I’d appreciate the ride. I’m sorry if I offended you. I’m really in your debt.”
“Yes, you are, aren’t you?”
The way he said it gave her a strange feeling that he might collect on that debt sometime in the future.
When they reached Timberlane, Stacy’s heart sank. If it had once been a busy logging settlement in the early forties, now only a hodgepodge of old buildings remained. Any hint of prosperity was gone on the rundown two-block main street, and the few rustic homes clustered on the nearby mountain slope.
Stacy tried to cover up her shock.
Seeing her expression, Josh explained that modest summer tourism, activities in a nearby National Forest and a limited local economy barely enabled the town to limp along.
“I wonder why my uncle bought property in a place like this,” she said.
“What kind of property?”
“It’s called the Haverly Hotel.” She wasn’t prepared for the surge of color that swept into his face.
“Haverly Hotel?” he repeated as if the name was like poison in his mouth.
“Yes, my uncle left it to me. Do you know it?”
He gave an ugly laugh. “Know it? Hell, yes, I know all about the Haverly Hotel.”
Her mouth suddenly went dry. “I don’t understand.”
“My sister, Glenda, fell to her death off one of the balconies.” Then he added bitterly, “Only she didn’t fall. She was pushed!”
“Who…who pushed her?” she asked as her heart jumped. Please God, not weird Uncle Willard.
“If I knew,” Josh answered bitterly, “the bastard wouldn’t be drawing his next breath.”
“That was two years ago?” Stacy said, remembering Josh had said his sister had been dead that long.
Josh nodded as his hands tightened on the wheel.
Stacy’s breathing eased. Uncle Willard had only owned the hotel for a year. “Who had the Haverly Hotel before my uncle bought it?”
Josh’s mouth tightened. “Malo Renquist. He left town the same night Glenda was killed, and the bastard has eluded the authorities for two years. The property was sold to cover delinquent taxes.” He shot her a quick look. “The place was a haven for drugs, drifters and all kinds of scum. What are your plans for it?”
She took a deep breath and told him about her uncle’s will, which stipulated that she couldn’t collect her inheritance until a certain amount of the bequest was spent on renovating the property.
“The place should be torn down,” Josh stated flatly. “What in the hell was your uncle thinking?”
Stacy gave him a weak smile. “We didn’t call him Weird Uncle Willard for nothing. He never seemed quite normal. Much to everyone’s astonishment, he sold one of his inventions for big bucks and ended up with more money than the rest of the family put together.”
“What was he going to do with the place?”
“I don’t know. I think some renovation work has already been done. Where in town is the hotel located?”
“It isn’t. It’s up Devil’s Canyon about five miles.”
Stacy’s mouth was suddenly dry. “Why was it built there?”
“God only knows. The Haverlys were a well-to-do couple from Tennessee. They built a modest hotel in the style of southern architecture, and I guess they planned on doing a thriving business with affluent summer visitors to the area. Unfortunately, the resorts of Vail and Aspen were too much competition for the small logging town of Timberlane. When the Haverlys couldn’t make ends meet, they gave it up.
“A series of owners after them left the place more dilapidated than before. Then Malo Renquist bought it and turned it into a hang-out for modern-day hippies.” His jaw hardened. “After Glenda’s death the place was closed until your uncle came along and bought it.”
“Well, I guess I have my work cut out for me,” she said with as much bravado as she could manage.
“Isn’t there someone else in your family who could help you out. A brother—?”
“I lied. I don’t have any family in Timberlane. I’m an only child. My father passed on from a lingering illness when I was five, and my mother never married again. I lived at home until she died. There’s just me. I had a fairly good job with a marketing company until a few weeks ago. And now I’m here.”
Josh could hear the uncertainty in her voice. And for good reason, he thought as he stopped the car in front of a tall brick building on Main Street.
“I need to make a quick stop and talk to the men who have been repairing the bridge. I’ll call the service station and ask Hank to see if he can pull your car back on the road with his tow truck. It’ll only take a few minutes, and then I’ll drive you up to the hotel and let you off.”
The blunt way he said it gave her the impression he was intending to set her suitcases on the front steps and get away as quickly as possible. Not that she could blame him. The place must open some deep wounds.
As Stacy waited for him, a feeling of being totally displaced in this crude alien place came over her. The physical trauma of the last twenty-four hours had completely dispelled any feelings of excitement or anticipation. She wondered if Josh Spencer’s attitude toward her and her inheritance was indicative of what she could expect from other people in the town. What if he wasn’t the only one who had a personal vendetta against the place her uncle had left her? She knew that some houses and places seemed to harbor bad luck and evil miasma despite attempts to change the karma. Was the Haverly Hotel like that? Was her accident a warning?
Foreboding settled on her so heavily that she couldn’t just sit there any longer. Across the street, she could see a saloon, a general store, a café and a filling station on the corner. Not much to see, but anything would be better than just sitting here getting more and more depressed. The thought of being stuck in this run-down place for God only knew how long wasn’t doing much for her sense of well-being.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and had just taken a few steps away from the pickup when Josh came out of the brick building.
He wasn’t alone. Walking beside him was an attractive brunette wearing tight western jeans, a man’s shirt, and a belt that flashed a large silver buckle. Almost as tall as Josh, her well-rounded figure suggested an athletic firmness. She had a casual arm linked through his, and Stacy knew with feminine certainty that there must be some romantic history between them. Josh frowned when he saw that Stacy was out of the car. Where was she going? He’d taken care of his business as quickly as he could, explaining to Marci’s boss what had happened and what needed to be done right away to keep the whole bridge from collapsing.
He’d even told Marci that he was in a hurry, but she’d insisted on walking out with him to meet the woman who had crashed into his bridge. When he’d told her that Stacy Ashford was the new owner of the Haverly Hotel, Marci’s hazel eyes had nearly popped out of her head.
“You’ve