"Drat, there's no place to park!" Dixie Jones pulled her truck to the side of the street to look around. She glanced at her phone for the address of the rental place called Lily Rock Realty. She looked up. Two trucks and a motorcycle parked in front of a small building. Posters advertising cabin rentals covered the outside, along with red, white, and blue streamers.
A large sign with the image of Smokey the Bear caught her eyes. He held a sign with both paws which read in bold letters: “Fire warning. Extreme.” Dixie was not surprised. She knew all of the small towns in the San Gabriel forest were in the fire danger region, even this late in December before the first snow.
Every year a fire broke out. Sometimes arson, sometimes negligence, and often an electrical spark from an old wire. Volunteers remained at the ready to put out fires. Lately insurance companies refused to issue policies for homeowners. And when they did, the expense was so high most residents figured they'd go uninsured rather than pay the price.
Dixie glanced at her cell phone. Many of the cabins in Lily Rock were run by a central agency, where keys could be picked up and dropped off. She'd made a reservation the night before and then marked it on her list as her first expense. Once she made her deposit, Lily Rock Realty sent her a receipt and the directions. She'd pick up her key from them. The department is gonna cover every last dime of this assignment.
"Once more around the block," Jones muttered. She pulled away from the curb, and then slammed on her brakes. A small child running ahead of his mother crossed in the middle of the road. Sticking her head out the window, Dixie yelled, "Get your kid out of the street! Don't you realize my car weighs more than you and that kid put together?"
She wanted to cite the mother for endangering a minor. If she were a cop in Lily Rock, she might have done that. But fortunately she remembered she was undercover.
After two more trips around the block, Jones pulled into an empty parking space across from Lily Rock Realty. She'd been sent an email that her keys would be ready for pickup before noon. Beep. The truck locked. She looked both ways and then hurried across the road. A line had formed out the small doorway of the realtor's office. Standing at the end, she pulled out her phone to avoid making eye contact.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a man wearing a felt bowler hat, moss-colored t-shirt, and slim black pants. He'd tied a red and black flannel shirt around his waist, and his hair had been pulled into a bun. The dark beard on his face contrasted with the gray color of his hair.
Jones smirked. Looks like the hipsters have made it to Lily Rock. Must make the residents nuts. She assumed anything new would make a small town like Lily Rock uncomfortable.
The man walked past her muttering, "They gave away my reservation. I'm so gonna Yelp them."
She hastily checked her own confirmation number. The email said she had a reservation, but there was no official number or charge on her credit card. When it was her turn, she held the phone in front of the young kid's face. "I got a confirmation," she claimed.
He gave her a half smile. "That's not exactly what that email means. Here in Lily Rock, you don't count until you show up. I can't tell you how many people say they're coming and then only spend the day and drive back to LA without spending the night." He looked over her head toward the rest of the line and sniffed. "Smells like snow is coming," he mumbled.
"I didn't come here for a weather report," she retorted.
His eyes finally fixed on hers. "I'm afraid we gave your cabin to another customer. Or as they say, no room at this inn."
Jones shrugged. "Don't give me any of that seasonal nonsense. Do I look like a person who celebrates Christmas?” She waved the phone in front of his face again. No wonder they're getting bad Yelp reviews. I guess the anonymous emailer had that right.
She squinted to take a closer look at the name tag pinned to his shirt. "Okay, I see your name is Brad. So why don't you get me another room, Brad. Any cabin will do. Then I'll give you ten bucks to go spend at the arcade. Surely a place like this still has pinball."
Brad blinked. "Pinball?"
"Oh stop it. Don't play dumb with me. Give me the key."
He shook his head. "I can't take your ten bucks because the last cabin was rented an hour ago. I suggest you try down the street or get online. Airbnb may have a last-minute cancellation."
Jones noted his grimy hands, grease under his fingernails. "Do you normally work here?" she asked. If I draw him into conversation maybe he'll find me a cabin. Personal connection, that's what they told me in class. Makes residents feel all warm and fuzzy.
The kid stared at his hands. He held them up. "I work at my uncle's garage. I'm just stepping in here for the afternoon. If you live in Lily Rock, you take the jobs that come up. Gotta stay flexible."
Jets sighed. She knew for all practical purposes, it was senseless to try to wheedle a room from someone who really didn't have one. "Whatever happened to small-town hospitality?" she muttered. "Thanks for nothin'."
Across the street and back in the driver's seat, she placed both arms on the steering wheel. This place is starting to get on my nerves. After a brief search on the internet, she couldn't find anywhere else to stay one night, let alone two. She inhaled deeply, feeling her irritation get the better of her.
Taking another deep breath, she looked around. Lowering her window, she stuck her head outside and inhaled again, smiling. The cold air feels great. Invigorating. Even her lungs felt less congested when she took another deep breath. I forgot the last time I actually inhaled without coughing.
Shallow breathing in Los Angeles had become something she accepted about her new location. She'd learned to treat her shortness of breath like her unruly curly hair, something to tolerate and tuck away so as not to think about it too much.
Everyone at the academy smoked or vaped—outside, of course. But the secondhand smoke slipped inside through open doors. Exhaust from vehicles filled the entire city, smelling slightly acrid. After a while it got stuck in your nostrils.
She took another deep breath, exhaling slowly. I kind of like this feeling. The people here are wacko but the air is pretty nice.
Then her inner voice interrupted. Stop it, Dixie. Don't go getting soft.
Unsure about what to do next, she glanced down the boardwalk toward a lineup of small shops. Her thoughts drifted back to the academy, where she'd made an unexpected connection with a seasoned officer and instructor. Brian had led her through all of the difficult issues, including being older than the rest of the recruits.
"You have a mouth on you," he'd told her at their first meeting. Before she could retort he added, "But I like that. I like it a lot. In fact your mouth may be your greatest asset. Just be careful. The captain may not be a fan of you talking back."
She knew that comment had helped her just in time. She could have made a real problem for herself had she refused the Lily Rock assignment. She'd explain to the captain afterward about not wanting another small town. She'd tell him the fantastic academy training had broadened her horizons. Everyone likes their ideas to be important. After she wrote her Lily Rock report, he'd be more understanding. At least she hoped he would.
Her eyes rested on the library sign. There you go. Small towns have helpful librarians. I'll step in and see what a local can do for my predicament. She opened the truck door. Plus I can look around to see if anyone is typing on a computer. Maybe catch the anonymous emailer in the act. Fast work, Dixie!
She grinned and crossed the street again.