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Sunday morning, July 13th
Natalie woke with a start when a soft thud echoed through the condo. She lifted her head from the pillows and peered at the strip of bright morning sunlight across the corner of the bed.
She groaned. Mornings were not her thing at the best of times and just now her head ached, she was thirsty enough to drink a pitcher of water and she was still exhausted as if she’d been awake half the night partying.
A door. That had been a door closing.
Oh, my God. She had been awake half the night. Partying and then doing very naughty things with a stranger. She jerked upright in the bed. Disappointment sent her shoulder sagging as she saw that the pillow next to hers was empty.
Mase was gone, but she could feel him still, in every movement of her tender body. Could smell him on the sheets. She stroked one hand over the empty place where he’d lain, her eyes sliding shut again.
Last night came flooding back in vivid detail, from their initial meeting to their final lazy encounter in this bed. Exhausted from multiple orgasms, she’d still opened her arms to him when he turned to her in the dark, let him pull her on top of him, where she rode him, sore and aching from their two earlier unions but unable to resist having him inside her just once more.
Afterward, she’d fallen onto his shoulder—the right side, as she remembered to be careful of his healing wound—and into sleep, his warm, damp chest her pillow, his heart thudding under her ear.
She’d really done all that? And with a guy she met at a party? This was so not her. But who the heck cared, because she’d loved every hot minute.
She just wished he was still here. Something in her chest contracted painfully as she wondered why he’d slipped away without saying goodbye. Had he not enjoyed their time as much as he seemed to? Had he not felt the connection when he touched her? One that seemed to deepen with every caress, every kiss, every murmured word of encouragement and praise?
Right. There she went again, expecting more than a man could give, more than he wanted to give. Mase was lucky he’d gotten away before she could jump him again, get him down on the carpet and smother him with her attentions.
“Na-at,” caroled a feminine voice. “You alone in there?”
“Yes,” Natalie croaked through her dry, tight throat. She tried again. “Yes. C’mon in.”
She sat up, catching the sheet with one hand and shoved her hair back out of her face with the other. Ack, her lashes were glued together with eye makeup, and her chin felt tender, abraded. She probably looked like a raccoon with beard burn. A sad one.
Teri opened the door and peeked inside. She, of course, was perfectly put together, her brunette hair sleek, her makeup fresh.
She flung the door open and hurried in, stopping at the end of the bed.
“You hussy,” she accused with a huge smile. “You hooked up with a cop. You were supposed to pick one of Dave’s EMT or firefighter buddies.”
Natalie laughed with Teri, although she winced as she did so. Ow, hangover headache. That’s all her angst was, just metabolizing alcohol and lack of sleep. It wasn’t because he’d slipped away.
“On the porch,” Teri reminisced in scattered phrases. “The way you looked at each other! But then you went separate ways ... so I thought maybe Trev ... but then you show up—zip! Back with Mason.”
“I know,” Natalie groaned, massaging her aching temple. “Crazy ... but worth it.”
Teri beamed. “Yeah? So you got back on that horse and rode. I’m so proud of you.”
Natalie rolled her eyes, but Teri went on. “I mean it. Tony Rotten Roden did such a number on you, sweetie. I thought you’d never get out and date again.”
Natalie drew her knees up under the sheet and leaned her chin on her folded arms. “Well. I wouldn’t exactly call last night a date. More like a ... a sex-a-thon.”
Teri waggled her eyebrows. “Yeah? I’ve only met Mase a few times, but I always thought he had the look about him. Like he could make a girl real happy.”
Remembering exactly how he’d taken charge of her, Natalie blushed helplessly. “Yeah,” she mumbled, tipping her face down so her hair slid over her face. “He does that, all right.”
“So, did he beg for more before he left?” Teri asked, looking around as if for traces of him.
“Um, not exactly,” Natalie said quietly. “He was ... gone when I woke up.”
This silenced even Teri. She gave Natalie a look of sympathy. Then she slapped her hand on the bed.
“Well, fine for that dumb cop. He can just whistle for it next time he gets the craving, right? Now, whaddya say we girls go out for breakfast? Load up on fat and carbs and caffeine. It’s a gorgeous day and there are plenty more men out there. Men with big hoses, men with precision instruments.”
Natalie had zero interest in any more men at the moment, no matter what their equipment, but the rest sounded great. She was starving and she needed caffeine.
“I’m in. Give me fifteen minutes to shower and dress and we’ll go.”
She grabbed some clean undies, a pair of tan skinny shorts, a fitted white tee with gold sequins adorning the front in the pattern of an elaborate tribal necklace, and stepped into a hot shower.
And if her smile slipped the moment she was alone, it was back by the time she slipped into the driver’s seat of her green Toyota Highlander, her wet hair sleeked back in a ponytail. She’d taken the time to smooth on concealer, mascara and some brightening golden-brown eye shadow, as well as some dangly gold earrings, because every woman knew fixing up made everything better, but she also wore her big sunglasses not just to shield her eyes from the bright sun, but to conceal the shadows in them.
She’d had great sex, and now it was done. No worries, no regrets. And who wanted seconds with a man who didn’t care enough to say good bye? Not her, that was for sure.
She’d had a husband who didn’t respect her enough to talk out their problems, and she’d left him. Any man who pulled that garbage now was history.
Besides, she had more than enough on her plate for the foreseeable future. She didn’t have time to date, or even for more slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am.
After a breakfast of strong coffee and fluffy, crisp French toast drowned in sweet, gooey syrup, she felt better. Teri was right—once in a while, nothing did it for a girl like fat, carbs and caffeine. Even if the treat would go straight to her hips and thighs.
“So,” Teri asked after the waitress had taken their plates and refilled their coffee cups. “What are you doing for the rest of the day? Any plans?”
Nat took another drink of coffee, the hot, bitter beverage chasing the last taste of buttery maple from her tongue. She set her cup down and rummaged in her purse. “Yes. I’ve put it off long enough,” she said. “It’s time I used this.”
She held up the tagged key the lawyer had given her. The key to Rambles.
Teri’s smile slipped away, and she gave Nat a dubious look. “Well, of course you should at least look it over, make sure it’s in good condition. But then ... I think you should sell the place.”
Nat stared at her. “You do?”
Her friend leaned over the table. “I totally do. The real estate market is up right now, according to my friend Daisy. I lived next door to her in Beaverton, before I moved up here to be near the salon. She’s with WorldWide Realty, one of the biggest. You could sell Rambles, make a bundle and then invest in something you want to do, not Tony’s leftover dream.”
Natalie drank her coffee. “It was my dream too. Not just Tony’s.” Maybe even mostly hers, looking back.
Teri’s look turned skeptical.
Natalie set her cup down. “No, I mean it. I loved running Rambles until ... you know.”
Until she discovered that while she was busy doing the books at home and traveling the road to Seattle as often as she could to visit her mother in the hospital and then long term care, Tony was busy using their bar as his personal pickup plan. And that half the town of River Ridge had known and done nothing to dissuade him or tell her. That somehow they’d believed it was her fault for neglecting her husband.
“I admit I couldn’t face going in there at the end,” she said now. “But that was because it hurt so badly to know that he’d been hooking up there. Well, and my pride—knowing that everyone knew he’d been making a fool out me. I’m sorry Tony’s dead, but I helped him build Rambles and ran it as his partner. Now it’s mine.”
Teri gave her a look of mingled sympathy and exasperation. “Running it by yourself will be twice the work.”
“I know. I’ll hire help, believe me. But I want to do this, Teri.”
“You know, you could just get a job in your degree. Everyone’s always looking for accountants and book-keepers.”
“Ugh. I’d rather do the books for my own business. I like watching numbers fall into line, sure, but I don’t wanna be stuck in a cubicle somewhere. I want to be out in front of people, interacting with them. That’s the fun of owning a bar—the people, the bustle and busyness, the excitement of selling great products in an attractive way and watching people enjoy them.”
She gave Teri a look. “Just as you could be working a chair in someone else’s salon. But you’d rather have your own.”
Teri lifted her hands in defeat. “True. Okay, I’ll stop—for now. But I still hope to change your mind.” She gave Natalie a narrow-eyed look. “This is bigger than a salon.”
Natalie shrugged. “You can try to talk me out of it. But I can do this, and I’m going to.”
As long as she could find a bank that would help her. Because she might have the determination, but re-opening Rambles in a way big enough to make a splash was going to require cash—lots of it.
* * *
RAMBLES SAT ON THE east side of the Columbia River, just south of River Ridge. Nat took one of the back roads north from Vancouver, winding north through small farms with a mix of animals, berry fields, Christmas trees and developments with huge new homes on acreages.
“Podunk, here we come,” Teri said, curling her lip at a trio of horses standing under a huge oak, swishing their tails. “We could’ve taken the I-5. It’s so much faster.”
“I like this drive,” Nat said. “It’s peaceful.” It was also a route as rambling as the name of her bar, which delayed her arrival there for a little while longer. She needed every moment to nerve herself up to face it.
“That’s for sure,” Teri muttered. She let her head fall forward. “Zz-zz.”
Nat laughed, although it caught in her throat. “We’ll be there in a minute. I’ll be sure and wake you.”
She slowed as the road forked. The right lane headed north into River Ridge, but there on the left was the wooden sign for Rambles. Blackberries crawled up the support posts, and one had crept up over the back to dangle over the ‘a’. The sign’s green and gold paint was faded.
She added refurbishing or replacing the sign to her mental to-do list.
Her hands tightened on the wheel as she drove over a small rise between two bunches of towering fir trees edging more farm fields. There were no other vehicles in her rearview, so she rolled to a stop, staring. Her breakfast sat like lead in her stomach.
There it was, Rambles. The bar that had been such an exciting venture for her and her new husband ... until it slowly turned into a nightmare.
“Wow,” Teri said. “Look at that, would you?” She pointed at the new cluster of buildings to the north of the bar. “There’s the new River Ridge Plaza Dave mentioned. I didn’t realize it was so close to the bar.”
She turned to Nat. “Great sales point. Right next to a pizza place, with more new stores coming in.”
Barely hearing her, Nat gazed at the bar. Timber-framed, with a dark green metal roof, the building was a rectangle with the long sides facing east/west. The exterior was painted brown that had faded to a mellow cocoa hue. A graveled parking lot surrounded the south and east sides, with a patio by the river on the west.
The main entrance was on the east side, with a paved walk to the parking lot. Just before the property, the paved road swung north along the river toward River Ridge and beside the new cluster of businesses in the plaza.
“You gonna drive down?” Teri asked dryly. “Or sit here and stare at it?”
“What? Oh.” Nat put her foot back on the gas and drove down the hill. “Sorry. It just hit me, you know? This is all mine. My responsibility.” Also her hope for a solid, meaningful future.
“That’s right,” Teri said. “A big one. And before, you had a strong man at your side. Well, when he wasn’t off chasing tail.”
Nat drove into the parking lot, the gravel crunching under her tires. She pulled up before the building, mingled nerves, old angst and an unquenchable excitement roiling in her middle. Was Teri right? Was she nuts to even think about reopening this place by herself? Could she banish the ghosts of the past?
They got out, and Teri walked around the car to gaze at the green expanse of the Columbia, flowing placidly by. “Wow,” she said admiringly. “Nice view, anyway. How did Tony ever get his hands on this property?”
“The land was left to him by his grandparents,” Nat told her, pausing to admire a gleaming white pleasure yacht cruising slowly past on the near side of the majestic river, while a tow boat pushed a huge cargo barge upriver near the opposite tree-lined bank. Usually gazing at the river calmed her, but right now she felt ready to jump out of her skin.
“They bought the land decades ago, when River Ridge was still just a sawmill and general store surrounded by cattle and berry farms. Tony inherited this land and Cassidy got some money.” A lot of money, which Tony’s little sister had promptly blown on expensive clothing, a sports car and a Portland apartment. Nat wondered if she still had these assets, or had lost them by now.
“Location, location, location,” Teri chirped. “That is a million-dollar view, kiddo.”
Nat closed her car door and Teri followed her toward the patio overlooking the river. The location was one big reason Nat truly believed she could make a success of the bar. She enjoyed having a drink and a meal in a scenic location; so did other people. There were several very successful bar and restaurant venues along the Columbia in both Vancouver and Portland to the south.
“Euww,” Teri said, surveying the ground with distaste. “Looks like the local teenagers have been using your parking lot for more than the view.”
Nat looked down and saw a used condom in the gravel, along with a smashed plastic drink bottle. There was another a few feet away. Broken glass bottles and other trash littered the lot. Mylar snack bags hung in the tangle of blackberry vines along the bluff, nearly obscuring the newer, heavy duty guard rail the county had had built after Tony’s death. Deep tire marks gouged the middle of the graveled lot as well, where drivers had wheeled in circles at top speed.
She set her jaw. The lot could be cleaned and re-graded, and once the place was open the local teens would have to find somewhere else to park and hot rod. The bar would be open until the wee hours of the morning. She’d make sure the tall security lights at the corners of the property stayed on until dawn.
“Oh, my God,” Teri exclaimed, moving up onto the sidewalk around the building. “This place is a mess.”
Nat turned to scan the building itself. Her heart sank. Teri was right, the building was a mess. She scowled at a graffiti symbol spray-painted in hot pink on the wall. The empty paint can lay among the junipers planted along the base of the walls. Little creeps better hope she never found out whoever had painted on her bar.
A couple of the junipers planted between the walk and the building had been smashed down, probably by the taggers. The rest needed trimming, and tall weeds had grown up among them. She’d had such a sense of accomplishment the spring morning she unloaded them from the back of Tony’s pickup and planted them with her mother and sister’s help, and now look at them.
It had been only a year and a half since she last locked the doors. How could have it have gotten this rundown looking so fast? Of course all plant life grew rampant here in this temperate climate, and as for taggers, there were always wannabe gangers looking for an opportunity to leave their mark on empty buildings, even in smaller towns.
“Are we going in?” Teri called impatiently from the front walk. “That sun is hot.”
“Oh, sorry,” Nat said. She hurried along the walk, wrinkling her nose at the remains of someone’s fast food dinner scattered on the broad front step.
At least the tagger hadn’t reached the double glass doors. Rambles was painted on the inside of each door in glossy gold lettering with green trim. A Portland graphic artist had painstakingly hand-lettered the signs for them.
Paper had been taped up inside the glass to block anyone from peering through the doors and windows. She’d hired someone to do it, unable to face the task herself.
“Hope the interior looks better,” Teri said. “Nervous?”
Natalie nodded. “Oh, yeah.”
“You don’t have to go in,” Teri went on, her voice warm with sympathy. “Just hire a cleaning crew and some landscapers to come and fix it up before you call a Realtor.”
Natalie blew out a calming breath. Teri was just trying to be helpful. Too bad her idea of help was to discourage the whole idea. “Or they could come and clean up before I re-open.”
Inserting her key in the big lock, Nat unlocked the doors and pushed the right one open.
With the windows and doors covered, the interior of the bar was so dark Natalie could hardly make out the outlines of the furniture. A gleam of light through the edge of a west window highlighted the corner of the bar.
“Ooh, creepy,” Teri said over her shoulder. “Where are the lights?”
“There’s one set of switches right over here,” Nat said, moving cautiously to the left of the door. But although she found the switches, none of them worked. Of course, the power had been turned off.
“Give me a second to tear some of the paper off one of the windows,” she said, feeling her way along.
“I’ll just wait for you out here,” Teri said. “Sorry, but ... spiders.”
“Ugh, thanks for reminding me,” Natalie muttered. She hunched her shoulders, shivering at the thought of little legs racing over her skin as she reached up to grasp a handful of paper and rip it from the nearest window.
Just like ripping a scab off of a sore that wouldn’t heal without the sting of further treatment.