Barefoot Season Part 16

"I thought so, too. Everyone says she's great to work with. Did you want to talk to her tonight?"

"Sure."

Carly had a list of the leased equipment that could be sent back and which would have to be kept for the terms of the lease.

"Here are my ideas for saving money," she said, handing over three more sheets. "The first page talks about who we can let go and why, while the second two are different ideas for cutting our costs. I did a lot of brainstorming. Some of the ideas are a little out there, I know, but I put everything down, just in case one thing helps us brainstorm another."

Mich.e.l.le stared at the neat writing. She could feel herself moving from neutral to annoyed.

"How can you work here and not know how to use a computer?" she demanded before she could stop herself. "For someone who claims to know how, you're sure avoiding showing me you can. Learn Excel. It's not that hard."

Carly stiffened. Her small fingers curled into her palms as she dropped her arms to her sides.

"I know how to use Excel," she said quietly, her chin coming up.

"Then what's with this?" Mich.e.l.le waved the pages. "Oliver Twist? 'Can I have some more, please?' Why did you do these by hand?"

"I don't have a computer."

Mich.e.l.le felt the fight bleed out of her. "Sure you do. In your office."

"No, I don't. The computer at the registration desk doesn't have any other software on it. We were having problems with some of the summer help wasting time, so Brenda took off all the other programs. I used to use Brenda's computer, but she decided she wanted it pa.s.sword protected a few months ago. She never told me what the pa.s.sword was, so I couldn't get into anything."

Mich.e.l.le hated being wrong in general and being wrong in front of Carly really bugged her.

"We'll get you a computer," she mumbled. "Some cheap thing with the software you need. Otherwise, you're no help to me."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm doing it out of purely selfish reasons."

"That I believe."

Mich.e.l.le stared at Carly. The other woman's expression didn't change. She still looked stoic if a little wary, but humor brightened her blue eyes.

Mich.e.l.le felt her own mouth start to twitch.

"What's next?" she asked.

Carly motioned to the pages Mich.e.l.le held. "My ideas for more savings."

Mich.e.l.le scanned the papers. "You want to cut housekeeping?"

"They're not all working full days, even though they're paid for eight hours." She leaned forward. "I went through and rea.s.signed rooms. The two bigger suites take longer, but the rest of the rooms go pretty quickly. I can pick up the slack. It means me doing two of the smaller rooms, three days a week. Not a problem. In return for that, we can let two people go."

While the plan made sense, Mich.e.l.le was looking for the catch. "You clean?"

Carly smiled. "I started as a maid. I know how, but feel free to check my work."

"I thought you were pregnant when you came to work here."

"I was. About eight months along."

"Brenda had you cleaning?"

Carly shrugged. "I needed the work. It wasn't that big a deal."

Mich.e.l.le didn't know much about being pregnant, but scrubbing bathrooms all day seemed like a little more than someone that far along should be doing. She would have sworn there was no way she could ever feel bad for Carly. Leave it to Brenda to change that.

They went through the rest of Carly's suggestions. They were well considered and made a serious dent in the day-to-day expenses. Between losing the staff required for dinner and two maids, payroll would be cut by more than Mich.e.l.le had even hoped.

"I appreciate you doing this," she said, feeling the pain in her hip crank up a notch. Sitting too long tended to aggravate it. So did standing and lying down.

"I want the inn to be a financial success. The alternative is it going to the bank and that doesn't help anyone." Carly paused as if realizing they were straying into dangerous territory. Talking about the bank meant talking about Ellen.

Mich.e.l.le figured there had to be something between the two. Something in the past.

"Are you all right?" Carly asked. "I can tell you're in pain. Can I do anything?"

Mich.e.l.le shook her head. "My hip hurts. It's healing, but it takes time."

"Didn't they give you something for the pain?"

"Sure. I don't take it much. I get fuzzy." Besides, she would rather drink when she got home. Even she knew painkillers and vodka didn't mix.

"Won't you heal better if you're not in pain?"

Mich.e.l.le shot her a warning look. "Leave it alone."

"I don't remember you being this sensitive before you left."

"You go get shot and we'll see how sensitive you are." She held up a hand. "Sorry. I'm not at my most patient these days."

"It's okay."

Mich.e.l.le risked the truth. "Sometimes it feels like you've taken over my life. At least the good parts. And I'm left with the rest of it."

"That's not true."

"It's a little true. You have the owner's apartment."

Carly's expression turned stricken. "We can move," she said quickly.

"No. That's not what I want. I'm happy where I'm renting. Distance is a good thing, right now. Besides, you've got Gabby." Mich.e.l.le managed a smile. "She's great."

"Thank you. I think so." Carly hesitated, as if trying to make a decision. Then she nodded once and spoke. "I married Allen for all the wrong reasons. Believe me, I paid for that. He stole everything from me, because I was stupid. I had nothing. I was pregnant without a penny. I didn't have a job and I was so sick at first I couldn't keep one. I didn't have medical insurance or anything. Brenda hired me when I was eight months pregnant. She gave me a place to stay and didn't care that I waddled rather than walked. I wasn't taking your place, Mich.e.l.le. I was desperate and I thought she was going to rescue me."

Mich.e.l.le found herself feeling sorry for her. "Brenda wouldn't rescue anyone but herself."

Carly sighed. "I figured that out the hard way."

Of that, Mich.e.l.le was sure. She had grown up with her mother's inconsistent rules and narcissistic worldviews. An action that made her mother laugh one day could be cause for a month's grounding the next. Everything was judged by how it related to her. They rarely went out to eat, but when they did, Brenda played her games. If she and Mich.e.l.le ordered different things, Brenda wanted what her daughter ordered and would take her meal. If they ordered the same, Brenda claimed hers tasted funny. She would send it back and get something else. Brenda would tell her not to waste money on presents for holidays, then complain to all who would listen that her selfish daughter never bought her anything.

As much as Mich.e.l.le didn't want to admit it, she knew Carly had truly been alone in the world. Alone and responsible for the child growing inside of her. Perhaps the most vulnerable a woman could be.

Brenda had taken advantage of that. She would have been unable to resist having someone beholden to her. Someone to twist and slowly destroy. Gabby's happy nature was a testament to Carly's determination and love.

"We were ambushed," she said, not sure why she was saying these words. Even as she told herself to stop, she couldn't seem to stop them from spilling out.

"There were several shooters and an IED. The Humvee went flying, then exploded. A few of us were tossed out. Not that it mattered if we survived that, because they were firing from everywhere."

She studied the pages in front of her as she spoke, looking at the neat handwriting, seeing the contrast of ink and paper rather than the history she re-created.

"We got all of them but one. I was the last man standing. Literally." Involuntarily, she looked at Carly. "He got me in the hip and I went down. I could still fire, but he was faster. Then his weapon jammed or his clip was empty."

She could feel the heat, the blood on her leg, hear the sounds of fire and screams. Dust filled the air and clogged her lungs.

She spoke of the small girl who had clung to her father. How her M16-A2 had felt heavy in her arms-probably the result of the blood loss. The moment when she knew she'd been given a chance to survive. A chance to take a shot.

"I killed him, with his daughter still clinging to him. I shot him and he died."

She stopped the telling there, mostly because the rest of it was a blur. The little girl had cried out, then run off. There had been a s.p.a.ce of time when Mich.e.l.le had tried to get to the others, to help where she could. It might have been a minute or two, it could have been hours.

The next thing she remembered was the medic bending over her, telling her she was d.a.m.ned lucky. As she was carried away, she'd glanced back at the fallen man. He was still there, his eyes open, his stare gla.s.sy.

"Is that why you can't sleep?" Carly asked.

"It's some of it. Trust me. When they say war is h.e.l.l, they're not kidding."

"I'm sorry."

Mich.e.l.le shrugged. "I'm the one who signed up. I'm the one who slept with Allen."

"You still blame me."

Mich.e.l.le allowed herself a slight smile. "Crazy, huh? I slept with your fiance and you're the bad guy. Even I don't get that one."

Carly fumbled with the bracelet, then unfastened it and dropped it onto the desk. "You should have this."

"No, thanks."

"She was your mother."

"She left her things to you for a reason."

"No." Carly stood. "I'll get you the rest of her jewelry later."

"Keep it. You had a better relationship with her than I ever did. I have the inn. That's enough."

"The inn was always yours."

"I know."

Carly nodded and left. Mich.e.l.le was very aware that she carefully left the charm bracelet behind. She picked it up and studied the various charms, then dropped it in the top drawer of her desk.

Fifteen.

Carly kept busy through the rest of the morning. She liked that she didn't have a whole lot of time to think about her conversation with Mich.e.l.le-mostly because she couldn't decide what she felt about it. Talk about a complicated relationship.

On the one hand, her former friend had been nothing but b.i.t.c.hy since her arrival. Carly had busted her b.u.t.t, working at the inn, doing her best, dealing with Brenda. On the other hand, Mich.e.l.le had grown up with Brenda's difficult and emotionally abusive ways. She'd learned to thrive in impossible circ.u.mstances.

Mich.e.l.le had slept with Allen-something that fell in the "inexcusable" category. But Carly was willing to admit that Allen had probably been as much to blame. And maybe she'd had a hand in it, too. After all, they'd both wanted to go out with him. She'd won him over by sleeping with him when Mich.e.l.le wouldn't. Then, after the engagement, she'd flaunted her ring, her plans, all the while insisting Mich.e.l.le be happy for her.

The latter had been more about the thrill of finally finding someone who would love her, but a little of it had been about rubbing Mich.e.l.le's nose in it. Not her finest moment.

And now? Now they were grown-ups and she needed to decide what mattered and what didn't.

Carly finished checking the clean rooms-then returned to the front desk. Pauline and Seth had left welcome packages for the three couples who would be checking in that afternoon. She put them in a stack, along with their room keys.

Life would be easier if Mich.e.l.le could just be mean all the time, she thought, walking to her office. Then she could cheerfully hate her and feel smug about doing her job. As it was, they were both stuck figuring out the present. Carly didn't even have righteous indignation on her side. After all, Mich.e.l.le might have slept with Allen and then left town, but she'd kind of made up for it by joining the army and risking her life.

Carly stepped into the small s.p.a.ce that was her office only to stop when she saw two boxes sitting on her desk. The first was for a laptop, the second, a printer.

She'd left her meeting with Mich.e.l.le less than three hours ago. Had the other woman run right out and bought her a computer? She must have. It wasn't something Mich.e.l.le would have hanging around in her back pocket.

On top of the computer box was a package of software for Microsoft Office, along with a note. "I hope you weren't lying about knowing Excel."

"I wasn't," Carly murmured, not sure if she should laugh or throw something.

She sat in her chair and stared at the packages. Why did she have to go and be nice?

She reached for the laptop box, prepared to open it. But before she could lift the top, she saw a business-size envelope with her name on the front.

She lifted the flap, then stared at the check inside.

Thank G.o.d she was sitting, she thought, staring at the writing. Otherwise, she would have pa.s.sed out, fallen and hit her head. As it was, she couldn't breathe. Couldn't blink or speak or do anything but stare.

"I..."

Her body was numb, her brain spun, stopped, then lurched.