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Denny followed Alec and Mrs. Ross to the woodshed behind the hotel’s back exit. Fatigue blanketed her, but she told herself that moving would warm her if nothing else. She was used to going to the gym to exercise. So surely carrying armloads of wood upstairs would be a great way to keep herself in shape and warm herself too.
“Go back inside,” Alec told Mrs. Ross, and she was quick to obey.
The snow continued to float to the ground like cotton puffballs. Denny could kick herself for not bringing along additional warm clothes, but how would she know? She’d checked the weather forecast before leaving New Jersey, where the temperatures there had been on the chilly side but not below freezing. Why couldn’t Maureen have chosen to take them to a tropical island? The Bahamas.
Wait a minute, Denny never would have met Alec. She could care less if he was from clan MacDonald. She watched him gather an armload of chopped wood with ease.
“Save some for me,” she said, hearing a flutter in her voice. Yes, she was definitely flirting with him. But what harm in it? She had quit shivering.
He glanced back to her and said, “Are you sure you want to help? I can take care of it.”
“Yes, I could use the exercise. This cold air is refreshing.” Not really, but she would need to change her attitude in order to spend time with him. She would need to change her attitude about many things. What was the use of starting up a relationship with a man if she could be on the verge of death? And would she really want to live here with him? It was doubtful that he would move to America to be with her.
Whoa there, she thought. She was getting way ahead of herself. He had shown no interest in her other than keeping her from falling on the slippery snow. He had asked her nothing about herself, but then that was typical for men as far as Denny could see. Even her own father had shown little interest in her bookstore. In fact, he’d mocked her numerous times for what he called throwing money down the toilet in such an idiotic endeavor as a used bookstore.
He’d guffawed. “Who in their right mind would buy a used book to begin with when they can buy it new online?”
“Lots of people enjoy reading used books.” Denny knew that arguing with him was pointless.
“Then they can go to the public library.” Not that he had a library card and ever went himself. He cleared his throat. “I don’t have time for reading anything other than market reports and emails. I get up early and follow the market. It’s a dog-eat-dog world on Wall Street.”
“But on the weekends?” she asked.
“On a good day I golf with prospective clients.”
Finally, she gave up verbally sparring with him. Because she was the dummy who liked secondhand books. And no use wasting her gray matter on him anymore because he was dead. A tragic reality that sent a jolt through her each time she allowed herself to dwell upon it.
Her mother had often come to Denny’s defense when he was giving Denny a bad time—as if they were in a court room. But she was gone too. No one left to defend her.
Denny told herself to quit reworking that impossible puzzle in her brain. She had spoken to Maureen about their death to no avail. It seemed as if Denny were pounding nails in Maureen’s ears when she mentioned their parents, so why bother? Maureen had a husband and a daughter and could not understand the loneliness that Denny endured.
“Coming, lass?” Alec’s question seemed to wake Denny out of a dream.
“Yes, sorry.”
He handed her part of his load—only a few chunks.
“Where to first?” Denny felt reckless, as though she would follow him anywhere.
“Your sister’s room.”
Denny envisioned Maureen cuddled up in bed with Amanda. And what about Lydia? She might be in there too. “Sure, let’s warm up my sister’s room first.”
They found the right room, number 205. He rapped on the door with his knuckles.
“It’s just Denny and Alec bringing you wood for the fire.” He spoke through the door. “Unlock the door and let us in.”
The door rattled, then opened. Amanda peeked out and shined her flashlight in Denny’s eyes. “Hey, Aunt Denny.”
Denny blinked and recoiled from the piercing light, but she gathered herself and smiled. “Howdy, Amanda and Maureen. Isn’t this fun, like a sleep out?” Denny had never used the word howdy before. Surely there must be a Scottish way of greeting people. She would have to ask Alec later.
“I hate camping, and you know it.” Amanda spun away and dove feet first into bed burrowing under the quilt. “Burr, I hate being cold.”
“You poor thing.” Maureen tucked Amanda in. Amanda snuggled next to her mother, which Denny imagined was a rare occurrence.
Denny knew Amanda was not an outdoorsy girl. Quite the opposite. She loved basking in the sun and always kept the heat turned up too high. Nothing Maureen and Denny hadn’t done at that age. Denny knew she’d been a pill, but Mom had accepted her adolescent behavior as normal. She was never critical. If Mom was alive, Denny would thank her. But too late now.
Alec set several split logs into the hearth atop the glowing coals. “Maybe more wood in your fireplace will help warm things up in here.”
“You’re planning to heat the whole building this way?” Maureen sat in bed watching. She pulled her covers up around her neck. If Denny wasn’t mistaken, Maureen still wore makeup. Was she expecting a member of the press to arrive and snap her photo again?
“One room at a time.” Alec averted his eyes. “Where is Lydia?”
“I sent her back to her and Denny’s room.”
“We’d better go down there next,” he said.
“She told us she was used to sleeping in the cold and liked it that way,” Maureen said, much to Denny’s relief.
Denny had a better idea. “In that case, why don’t we go visit the newlyweds next.”
When Denny and Alec found the right room, there was a Please Do Not Disturb sign on the door. They both stopped short and chatted about their options. Finally, Alec rapped on the door and said, “Hullo. We have wood for your hearth.”
“Could you please leave it outside the door?” a man’s muffled voice answered, followed by a woman’s titter.
“Of course.” Alec set his armload of wood on the hallway floor. Denny could make out a grin on his face.
The two of them trotted downstairs to collect more wood. Denny hesitated to return upstairs but realized she had no control over Alec and Lydia. If they were longing for each other, Denny would just have to live with it. Another disappointment, but what else was new?
Trundling back up the stairs carrying wood, Denny’s feet felt as heavy as if she were wearing lead boots. Much to her surprise and embarrassment, she found herself tearing up. She figured her tears had little to do with Lydia. But she simply could not take another disappointment.
“Anything you wish to share?” he asked, startling her. “If I’m not being too nosy.”
“No, nothing.” She sniffed.
“I’m a good listener.”
What did she have to lose? She was tired of keeping her grief bottled up.
When she didn’t respond to him, he said, “Maybe you should be speaking to your sister. Would you feel more comfortable with that?”
“No, she has enough problems of her own. And we share one of them.” Denny felt a sob erupting from deep inside. “Both of our parents were killed in a car accident not long ago. Hit-and-run.” Denny was overcome with sadness as if a giant had whisked her off her feet. “Someone ran their car off the road. Whoever they were fled the scene like a thief in the night.”
“You think it was deliberate?”
She shrugged and found her shoulders had turned to stone. “No witness got the license plate number. The other car—apparently stolen—slowed down for a moment and then sped up and took off.”
“I am so sorry.” He curved his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him.
Though it was dark, she watched his features grow closer. His lips parted and neared her mouth. She luxuriated in his approaching kiss.
In a flash, candlelight exposed them. “Hi, Lydia. What are you doing here?” Denny’s voice came out like a dagger. The intimate moment was shattered. Gone. Alec released Denny, much to her distress, and he stepped away. She wiped under each eye and glared at Lydia. Not that Lydia could see her clearly.
“I came to get wood and to make sure you were alright,” Lydia said.
“As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.” Denny was anything but fine. She had just spilled her guts to a stranger. She should have gone to the grief counselor her doctor had recommended when Denny mentioned her insomnia. But Denny had decided those groups were for losers and sissies. Yet when she got back home, she might make an appointment. But what good would that do? Her parents were gone forever. And her bookshop was a failure. She might as well close shop and find a nine-to-five job the way her father had admonished her to. Denny lacked business savvy. If only Dad was alive to advise her.
“I’ll bring you wood.” Alec’s words harpooned Denny back to the present. “You two go to your room.”
“You don’t need my help?” Denny felt dismissed.
“Actually, I can move faster by myself.” Proof positive he wanted to rid himself of Denny.
“We’ll be fine,” Lydia said. “I’m used to building fires and living without electricity.”
Denny held her tongue as snappy comebacks threatened to spew out.
“I’m planning to come down in the morning and prepare breakfast,” Lydia said. “Something special for the newlyweds depending on what’s in the kitchen.”
“On a gas stove top and oven no less,” Denny said.
“Yah, just like at home.” Lydia’s face took on a look of panic, her mouth opening. “What used to be home anyway.”