Barefoot Season Part 39

They embraced for several seconds, then stepped back.

Carly wiped the moisture from her cheeks. "Okay, new plan. We'll hang together until the folks leave. A united front. The next time they invade, we'll be braced."

"We'll lock them in the bas.e.m.e.nt until they apologize."

Carly grinned. "We don't have a bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Oh, right. Well, we're slow in the winter. We can build one."

They both laughed.

"Is Sam joining you at the beach?" Mich.e.l.le asked.

"He's working."

"Too bad. He would enjoy the evening and be a good buffer."

"Maybe next time," Carly said. "When he's not the new guy."

Mich.e.l.le nodded. "I'm going to head home for a couple of hours, see if I can get some sleep." She would be on until the last guest arrived back, which could be after midnight. "I'll be back about four."

"I'll be here."

She called for Chance. The dog walked beside her to the truck, then jumped in the front pa.s.senger side and waited while she put the seat belt around him. She wasn't sure the harness would hold him, but figured he was safer that way. She flipped the switch to disable the air bag, then shut the door and walked to her own side.

As she started the engine, she felt more at ease than she had since the unexpected arrival of her father. Not that anything had changed, but now there was a plan. And she wasn't alone. The not being alone felt best of all.

One demon down, she thought. A dozen or so to go.

Mich.e.l.le watched the sky from her position at the front desk of the inn. Once the last of twilight faded, she called for Chance and retreated to her office.

She knew what was coming. The fireworks display would last about ten minutes, but it would feel a lot longer for both of them. She shut the door. Earlier that evening she found an internet radio station playing rock music and now turned up the speakers. The sound would help.

Then she dropped to her knees and crawled under her desk, prepared to wait it out.

Chance look confused, but obligingly settled in beside her. She put her arm around him and waited.

A few minutes later, she heard the first of the explosions. While most people enjoyed the noise and the bursts of colorful lights in the sky, for her they were too close to recent reality.

"It's okay," she said, her voice nearly a chant. "Just a few minutes and it will be done. We're not at war. No one will get hurt. It's fine. I'm fine."

Chance leaned against her, more seeming to comfort than because he was afraid. She felt herself starting to shake and didn't know what to do to stop it. Maybe this was just something she had to get through.

She wrapped both arms around the dog and hung on, burying her face in his shoulder. After a second, she felt something warm and wet on the side of her neck. She looked up and he swiped his tongue along her cheek.

Despite the fear and her desire for the fireworks to be over, she started to laugh.

"We've been sleeping together for over a week and you're just kissing me now? How like a guy."

Thirty-Three.

Carly raised herself on tiptoe to get to the very top of the wall. It was Friday, and relatively quiet at the inn. The holiday crowd and therapy couples had left. The weekend guests had yet to arrive. The wall itself wasn't huge. She'd already put on a coat of primer, which had dried. The paint went on smoothly. She'd cut in by the ceiling and baseboards so the last bit with the roller would go quickly.

She'd just dipped the roller into the pan when Mich.e.l.le walked up.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

Carly didn't bother looking at her. "We need to work on your people skills."

"Fine. Hi. How are you? What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

Carly grinned. "Much better. I'm painting."

"I can see that."

"Then why did you ask?"

She felt more than saw Mich.e.l.le stiffen. "You're annoying, you know that?"

"I think of myself as an easygoing person with a lot of charm, but okay. Maybe I can be annoying. What specifically is bothering you?"

"There's a list," Mich.e.l.le muttered. "Specifically, to quote you, why are you painting now? It's eleven-thirty in the morning. We have guests arriving this afternoon. Doesn't this seem like a badly timed project?"

"You hate the mural."

"I've hated it since I got back."

Carly continued to move the roller up and down, covering every inch of the wall. "Yes, but I didn't like you before or care that you hated it. Since you've been back I've accepted I might have gone a little overboard with the daisies."

She'd been trying to put her mark on the inn, back when she'd thought she would end up owning a portion of it.

"You didn't like me before?"

"You weren't very nice and you had a lot of att.i.tude."

"I see."

"Don't pretend to be upset. You didn't like you, either."

"Have you been talking to Seth and Pauline? You're not trying to fix me, are you?"

Carly laughed. "Fixing you is well above my pay grade."

"You got that right."

"All done." Carly stepped back to study the wall. It was as if the mural had never been there.

"You didn't have to paint it over. It looked like it took a lot of work."

"It did, but I'm not a professional. A few of the daisies looked more like aliens than flowers. This is better."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Mich.e.l.le helped her collect her supplies. They took them to the utility room where Carly cleaned up the brush and roller. Gabby came running in.

"Frank and Grandma Lana want to go to lunch," she said, obviously bursting with excitement. "Here. They said everyone is talking about Helen's chicken salad and they want to spend time with us."

Carly smiled back at her daughter. "That sounds like fun. I'm available, but Mich.e.l.le might be busy."

Gabby turned to her.

Mich.e.l.le sighed. "I'd love to."

Gabby clapped her hands together and raced back to spread the good news.

"I was giving you an out," Carly said, setting the roller upright to drain in the sink.

"I appreciate that. But I'm the one who got her not to be afraid of the cranes. I'm practically a superhero. I don't want to let my best girl down."

Carly felt the jolt all the way down to the very bottom of her heart, but she was careful not to outwardly react, despite the truth she'd just realized. She hadn't simply regained what had been lost-she'd found someone who would love her daughter fully. Anyone crossing Gabby would have to answer to Mich.e.l.le. She might not look that formidable now, but Carly knew exactly how worthy an opponent her friend could be.

They left the utility room and walked toward the front of the inn.

"Would it be rude to ask when they're leaving?" Mich.e.l.le's voice was innocent enough.

"Yes, and you can't."

"Fine, but I hope it's soon."

"Me, too."

They pa.s.sed by the still-drying paint.

"Nice wall," Mich.e.l.le murmured.

"b.i.t.c.h."

"You know it."

"Ms. Sanderson?"

Mich.e.l.le looked up from her desk to find a thin, older man wearing gla.s.ses and carrying a computer tablet in his hand.

"Yes." She stood. "How can I help you?"

"I'm Gerald Vaughn from the Washington State Department of Health. I need to speak with you about your restaurant."

She didn't think she'd moved at all or made a sound, but Chance came awake and surged to her side. He didn't growl or even look at the health inspector. Instead, he leaned against her leg, making his presence known.

She stroked the dog, then nodded. "What's the problem?"

"We've had several complaints about the food being served. That the plates aren't clean, there are obvious rat droppings and foods not served at their correct temperatures. I'm here to inspect the premises. I would like you to accompany me."

The charges were so outrageous, she couldn't think of what to say. For all her faults, Damaris had kept a clean kitchen. Helen was even more demanding. A doctor could do emergency surgery on the counters and not risk infection. How on earth-?

Ellen, she thought furiously. Carly had warned her about Ellen and she hadn't listened.

She forced herself to smile. "Of course, Mr. Vaughn. I'm a.s.suming you showing up on a Sat.u.r.day is part of the surprise? No one expects a health inspector to work on the weekends."

"It is." He didn't smile back.

"I don't suppose we'll get the names of the people complaining."

"No. We keep that information confidential."

"Right. That makes sense. The reason I ask is because we have a problem with someone in town. There have been some personal disagreements and I think they might be making trouble."

Mr. Vaughn didn't look impressed by her statement. She was sure that he was used to hearing a ton of excuses. "We'll go look at the kitchen," she said, coming out from behind her desk. "But let me ask you this. If we pa.s.s perfectly, if there are no violations and you're impressed, will you at least make a note of what I said?"

"Ms. Sanderson, everyone has violations. Some are fairly minor, but no kitchen is perfect."

"As long as you're keeping an open mind."

She led him down the hall, Chance at her side. As they pa.s.sed the entryway, she saw Ellen speaking with Carly. Carly looked distressed. Ellen looked over and winked.

Mich.e.l.le remembered the terms of her supplemental-loan paperwork. If there were any violations against the inn, she was at risk of having the bank take over the property.

She felt her temper rise. No! This wasn't right. One person couldn't have that much control over her business, could they?

Nothing bad was going to happen, she promised herself. She hadn't come this far to lose everything. As soon as Mr. Vaughn finished his inspection, she would start a little digging of her own.

They walked into the kitchen where Helen was in the process of preparing for lunch. Chance stopped in his usual spot, just outside the door, lay down and prepared to wait.

"Helen, this is Mr. Vaughn from the Washington State Department of Health. There have been some complaints about the restaurant. Something about cleanliness and food temperature."