The bright light pierced a gap in the curtains and stabbed Allie in the eye as if it were hell-bent on waking her in a way that would annoy her for the rest of the day. She pulled the blanket over her face and groaned. As she turned over, she grabbed her phone to check the time. Surely it couldn’t be later than six.
Eleven? How could that be?
She ran her hand over her face and sat up, only to be greeted with a pounding head, eyes struggling to stay open, and a mouth that was dust dry. There were few things Allie hated more than hangovers, and yet here she was, her head in her hands and her stomach churning.
“Damn.” She went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. It helped a little, if only to assure her that she was in fact awake.
Ten minutes later, craving coffee, she stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen after having made herself as presentable as possible, adhering to one of her own personal rules: When you are deathly hungover, it is important to appear anything but.
Why had she had those last few shots? She knew the real answer: to spite that damned nosy cop—but she wasn’t ready to admit it yet.
The house was quiet—so quiet that she knew no one else was about. Where would Cara and Des have gone on a Sunday morning? Des wasn’t a churchgoer, she knew that much about her sister. And where was Barney?
Allie sat at the table and pulled up the photos on her phone that had sent her reaching for the clandestine bottle in her suitcase when they returned from the bar around midnight. The first picture and text from Nikki had been innocent enough: Me and Courtney before the big sophomore dance last night, she’d written under a photo of her and her BFF, both adorable in pretty dresses, their hair and makeup perfect. Allie had been thinking how the tenth-grade boys must have fallen all over themselves when these two walked in, when it occurred to her that Nik was wearing a dress she’d never seen before. Without stopping to think, she typed: I don’t recognize the dress?
A moment later came the reply: Courtney’s mom took us shopping this morning. Isn’t it the best dress evah?
Allie had to take several deep breaths before responding: It’s lovely. It’s perfect on you.
Nik’s last text of the night—Thanks, Mom! Night! Love you!—was attached to a series of pictures taken before, after, and during the dance. Nikki and Courtney. Nikki and Clint, who was, surprisingly, wearing a sport jacket, button-down shirt, and khakis. Odd attire for dropping Nik off at school or at Courtney’s. Clint’s at-home wardrobe had always been pretty much old jeans and an even older T-shirt. Then there were Nik and Clint standing next to Courtney and her mother. Clint was on one side and Courtney’s mother on the other, like bookends, their offspring between them. The last photo, taken apparently at the dance, was of Clint and Courtney’s mother standing with another couple. That’s what they look like, Allie thought. A couple. She enlarged the photo to study the look on the woman’s face. Oh yes, indeed. That’s the look of a woman in love—or at least in lust. Either way, it hit Allie like a thunderbolt.
Allie sat stock-still on the window seat, her stomach suddenly feeling as if hot molten lead had been poured inside her.
She had to fight the urge to call him. He’d never admit it. Never. Hadn’t he vehemently denied that there was another woman in his life?
“Damn him.” Allie pushed her coffee away along with the hot angry tears she felt welling up. He’d played her. Pure and simple. He’d played her to get close to another woman. Taken her daughter from her under the guise of what was best for Nikki, when he was actually using Nikki to get to know this woman.
Would he really do that, use his daughter to give him an excuse to get close to a woman?
Of course he would. And apparently, he had.
Allie had run through her savings to pay her half of the tuition to a school she couldn’t afford because Clint had shamed her into it with his snotty little jab, Give her the best, or be content with the rest? And most painful of all, Allie had had to trade her weekdays and nights with Nik for just the weekends in order for her daughter to attend this incredible school.
And this realization had come directly on the heels of her having to deal with a holier-than-thou Ben Haldeman at the Bullfrog last night.
He’d sat next to her in the seat Des had occupied, even after she’d made it pretty clear she had no intention of speaking with him beyond her initial “I’m not driving, so go find someone else to harass” declaration.
She’d tried to ignore him, but he didn’t move. Finally, his very presence irritated her so much she couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer. “That’s my sister’s seat,” she’d told him.
“When she lets me know she wants it, I’ll vacate,” he’d replied.
Allie had turned in her chair and done her best to ignore him. She’d been doing a pretty respectable job, too, until he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “That’s your, what, fourth drink in”—he’d glanced at his watch—“oh, roughly fifty minutes? Which averages out to about one drink every twelve and a half minutes.”
“You just did all that advanced math in your head? Who says we don’t use it once we leave school?” She didn’t bother to turn around.
“Well, we law enforcement types use math for all sorts of things. It wouldn’t even be a challenge for me to make a quick calculation of what your blood alcohol level might be right now.”
“Doesn’t matter, does it, since, as I’ve told you, I’m not driving. I have to assume I’m not breaking any laws since you’re not snapping your handcuffs on me.” She looked at him over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “You ever use them for something other than restraining bad guys—or bad girls, Sheriff?”
“It’s Chief.” His eyes darkened and narrowed.
“Chief. Sheriff. All the same. Means head lawman in his respective jurisdiction, right?”
“So why aren’t you out following unsuspecting drivers home so you can scare the living crap out of them?”
“I’m off duty.”
“I see.” She turned and deliberately took a long, slow sip of her drink.
He’d fallen quiet for a moment, then asked softly, “Bad day?”
“Why does it matter to you? You don’t know me. What difference could it possibly make to you?”
He’d nodded in Barney’s direction. “It’d matter a great deal to her if something happened to you. And if it matters to her, it matters to me, because she matters. Barney matters a great deal to a lot of people around here.” He stood and took a card from his wallet and handed it to her. “You ever want to talk about it, you ever need a friend or you want someone to just listen and not judge, give me a call.”
He’d walked away and left Allie sitting there with her mouth open.
She’d told herself he was the nerviest person she’d ever met, that he must be one of those people who just couldn’t help sticking his nose everywhere it didn’t belong. Maybe that was why he became a cop—so he could get in other people’s business. She’d started to drop the card on the floor, but something stopped her. She’d put it into her bag and tried to forget that the conversation ever happened.
A noise from the backyard drew her attention. She peered out the window and saw Barney emerging from a shed with a shovel in one hand and a rake in the other. A cardboard box holding what looked like a dozen or so plants stood open on the grass. Coffee in hand, Allie stepped onto the porch.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Barney turned to her with a smile. “Sorry you missed breakfast. There’s some fruit salad left in the fridge, though.”
“I’m good, thanks.” Allie walked down the steps and onto the patio. The bricks were raised here and there, and she carefully made her way to where Barney stood looking like the wife of Old MacDonald, her appearance so different from her usual put-together look. Old worn jeans, old sweater with moth holes on the front, sneakers that had clearly seen many other springs. Soft leather gloves, the color of ripe bananas, hung from her pants pockets, and sunglasses perched atop her head.
“Picked up my plants from the garden club the other day,” Barney said. “Good day to get them in the ground while the earth is soft from last night’s rain and the temperature is nice and warm. The sun’s getting a little higher every day.” She raked dead leaves from what had apparently been last year’s garden, exposing the raw earth beneath the composted matter. Here and there, small stubby fingers of green pushed through the soil.
“What are they?” Allie pointed to the stubs.
“Daylilies. Those fat little stems pushing up—the ones with that dark purple color mixed with the green—those are peonies. I’m pretty sure my grandmother planted those. Live forever, those things.”
Allie bent down to see what was in the box. “Isn’t it a little cold to plant flowers? Those are flowers, right?”
“A few perennials—good to get them going early and they can take a frost, most of ’em—and of course peas and some lettuce. Peas like the cold, but I might be a little optimistic where the lettuce is concerned. But it looked so pretty, I couldn’t resist.”
The name of each plant was written on a little white plastic stick wedged into the dirt in the pots. Hollyhocks. Echinacea. Veronica. Astilbe. A few daylilies.
“Is all this your garden?” Allie pointed to the carpet of dead leaves that surrounded the large patio and extended into the wide beds on three sides. Barney’s outdoor furniture was lined up on one side, each piece still wrapped in its protective cover against the weather.
Barney nodded. “It seems to grow a little every year. Guess I have no willpower when it comes to flowers.”
“I had roses at my house in California.” Allie recognized the wistful undertone in her voice. She tried not to think about it, but damn, she did miss that house. “I planted them myself. They bloomed so beautifully last year.”
“My mother and grandmother both had roses. They never did much for me. Maybe you’d do better with them. They’re all on the other side of the house. Take a look, why don’t you?” Barney gestured toward the left side of the house. “Of course, they’re just sticks right now, haven’t started to leaf up yet, but maybe when they do, you could see what you can do with them.”
“I really don’t know anything about roses. I just got lucky.”
“Gardening is part luck, part experience, part knowledge. You’ve apparently had some experience with them and you’ve had luck. So I’d say you probably have more knowledge on the subject than you realize. Certainly more than me.”
Allie shrugged and stood watching Barney rake for several more minutes before asking, “Any idea where Des and Cara might have gone?”
“They hiked up to the top of the falls. They took a thermos of coffee and a couple of the muffins Cara made, so I guess they planned on staying for a little while. You could probably join them.”
“Not up to the challenge this morning?”
Allie shook her head. Just forcing herself not to text Nikki to interrogate her about Clint and Courtney’s mother was enough of a challenge this morning.
“What’s everyone doing today, do you know?” Allie checked the screen on her phone for updates. There were none.
“Cara is meeting Joe and the exterminator at the theater around one to see what they can do about whatever has moved in. Des said she wanted to spend some time in the attic looking for a box of old photos of the theater that my mother stashed up there.” Having cleared all the beds, Barney traded the rake for the shovel and leaned upon its handle. “What about you?”
Allie shrugged.
“Grab a shovel from the shed, then, and help me get this bed ready.” Barney gestured toward the area she’d just finished raking.
“Oh, I don’t really—”
“Do you good, Allie.” Barney turned her back and began to turn over the soil.
Allie sighed and went to the shed. She tested the array of shovels, searching for the lightest in weight, and carried it back to the bed where Barney was working.
“Barney, what would you like me to do?”
“We need to just turn the dirt, like this.” Barney demonstrated, digging up a shovelful of soil and dumping it back onto the spot where she’d dug it.
Allie mimicked the motion and began the task of helping Barney. The work was mindless, and for the first five minutes it wasn’t too bad. Before long, Allie’s hands and wrists began to ache, and her head was pounding even louder than it had been. She rested against the shovel handle and closed her eyes. It didn’t help.
“Looks like you could use an aspirin or something,” Barney observed without breaking the rhythm of her digging. “There’s a bottle in the cabinet next to the sink in the kitchen. Go on in and take a couple. I can finish up here.”
Allie stabbed the point of the shovel into the dirt and left it standing there. She hurried toward the steps, her stomach roiling.
“You also might want to try a glass of milk with a raw egg in it,” she heard Barney say as she reached the porch. “I hear it’s good for hangovers.”
One hand over her stomach and the other over her gagging mouth, Allie beat a quick path to the powder room.
“It’s really peaceful here.” Cara sat on a large rock next to Des, her feet dangling over the edge, a plastic travel mug in her hand. She’d drunk most of the coffee, so all that remained was a cool puddle in the bottom of the mug.
“Agreed,” Des said. “The falls are like white noise, you know? I like it. It’s soothing.”
“It is. There’s something sort of, I don’t know, mystical or unearthly about the place. I could totally see this as somewhere forbidden lovers met, or where something tragic had occurred.”
“You should write a novel,” Des told her. “One of those Gothics. You’ve got a dramatic flair, you know?”
“I’d expect you or Allie to have more of a sense of drama, since your mother was an actress. My mother? Not a dramatic bone in her body. As far as she was concerned, the less drama in her life, the better.”
“My family was just the opposite. We were all drama queens. Especially Allie, but don’t tell her I said so.”
“Cross my heart. But at least you had an outlet for it. Your TV show, I mean.”
“I’d have been happier finding a different outlet. Allie was so much more suited to that whole scene than I was. She loves attention and she has a real flair for the dramatic in everything she does.”
“So why you and not her?” Cara had been wanting to ask.
“Allie has the desire and the will, but the truth is, she didn’t have the talent gene. Not one iota. I’d never say it to her face, but my mother never missed an opportunity to remind her. If I’d known then what I know now . . .” Des blew out a long breath. “I wish the show had never happened. It totally ruined my relationship with Allie.”
“Because she was jealous . . .”
“She still is. She just can’t let it go. Honestly, if I’d had any idea what it would have cost me, I’d have fought a lot harder against it than I did.”
“Were you ever close?” Cara asked.
Des nodded. “Until I was signed for that show, we were best friends. We were homeschooled some years because Mom shuttled us around with her a lot, so we were together almost all the time. I’ve tried so hard over the years to find a way to get her to move past it, but it’s like she’s stuck at twelve years old and she can’t forget that I had something she wanted.”
“Maybe being here together and working toward a common goal will help you get close again,” Cara said.
“That’s what I’m hoping.” Des appeared close to tears, so Cara rubbed her back to comfort her. “That’s why I’m here.”
“How’d you end up on TV in the first place?”
“When we were little, my mom would take us onto sets with her. She thought it made her look like a devoted mother. Then sometimes the script would call for a child, and one or both of us would be in the film. When I was nine, a TV producer friend of hers saw me in some film and thought I’d be good in a kid’s show he wanted to do. I was the right age and had the look he was going for. I was small, perky, and cute. Allie was tall and skinny and, at twelve, was just going into an awkward stage.”
“So you got the part.”
Des nodded. “At first it was fun. It wasn’t the acting I disliked. I kind of liked being someone else for a while. Our home life was totally screwed up. My mother drank and my father was never home.”
“I guess we now know why.” Cara couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt knowing that the reason their father was absent in Des and Allie’s life was because he was so involved with hers.
“For whatever reason.” Des paused. “You don’t think I hold that against you, do you? Because I don’t. None of us had anything to do with what happened back then. Those were choices our father made.”
“I understand that, but still . . .”
“There’s no ‘still.’ My mother was impossible to live with by that time, and Dad fell in love with someone else. Period.” Des sighed. “Anyway, the show was a huge hit and it got bigger every year. Allie hated me so much back then. She’d wanted her own show so badly, which only made our home life even suckier than it had been. The older I got, the more I disliked it. You know how when you’re a teenager, you go through stages of insecurity and self-doubt, not to mention your body is changing and there are times when you don’t want anyone to look at you?”
“Well, imagine going through that with the whole world watching. I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything, and my only friends were the other kids on the show. Which wasn’t too bad until I found out that one of them was sleeping with our TV dad and two of the others were doing cocaine between takes.”
“Yow.”
“Yeah. The show finally ended when TV Dad was arrested for having sex with a minor. I was so relieved when we were canceled.”
“Why’d you do it if you hated it so much?”
“My mother’s career was starting to go down the tubes. She drew a nice salary for ‘managing’ my career.”
“Dad let her do that?”
“She had those contracts signed before he even knew about it. Even when he realized how unhappy I was, he couldn’t do much about it.” A small smile spread across Des’s lips. “Though I always wondered if he was the anonymous source that blew the whistle on TV Dad and his underage honey.”
“I guess if he couldn’t get it done one way, he’d find another.”
“True. But enough about me. What time is your meeting with Joe today?” Des asked.
“I told him I’d stop by the theater around one. The exterminator will be there. Thank God. I want whatever is living in there to leave and find another home.”
“Do you want to go out with him?”
“I do.” Cara pulled some leaves off a nearby bush and tore them into strips, sending the pieces over the side of the rock to the pond below. “And then I don’t.”
“Why would you not want to go out with him? He’s nice, he’s smart and capable, he has his own business, and, oh yes, did I mention he’s adorable? In a very hot way?”
“Why don’t you go out with him?”
“He’s not the least bit interested in me. It’s you he’s had his eye on since day one.” Des thought for a moment. “Seriously, Cara—why would you not want to go out with him?”
“I’ve only been divorced two months. Yes, Joe is all those things, I agree. But when I first met Drew, he was all those things, too. For almost the entire time we were married, he was all those things.”
“That didn’t work out in the end. I get it. But it doesn’t mean that every nice, smart, adorably hot guy is going to be a jerk.”
“It doesn’t mean that he won’t be, either.” Cara straightened her legs out in front of her. “How can you tell the guys who at some point will turn into assholes from the ones who won’t?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I’ve never gotten that far with anyone. I’ve had ‘relationships’ but never anything I felt was deep enough to last a lifetime.” Des’s voice softened. “And I want that, something deep enough to last a lifetime. My parents’ marriage was terrible. I’d never admit it to Allie, but I don’t blame Dad one bit for falling in love with your mother. Our mother was an alcoholic who verbally abused all of us. We were never able to depend on her, the way you should be able to depend on your mom.” She turned to look at Cara. “The way I bet you could depend on your mom.”
“Yes. Susa was always there for me. She was always there for everyone she cared about.”
“And she and our dad probably had a pretty good relationship, right?”
“They sure seemed to. Except for, you know, that one little omission on Dad’s part.”
“My parents argued all the time. About everything.”
“Mine never did. At least, I never heard them or saw a sign that they were less than happy just to be in each other’s company.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. That’s what I want. I’ve never felt that kind of . . . comfort, security, with anyone I’ve ever dated. A couple of times I came close to seeing if that would happen, but in my heart I knew it wouldn’t, so I walked away. I mean, it always felt like more trouble than it was worth.” She grinned. “ ‘Why bother?’ should probably be written on my tombstone.”
“I thought I had all that with Drew. The closeness, the comfort, the trust—everything I ever wanted. I believed it. I totally committed myself to him, to our marriage.” Cara shook her head. “And I was wrong.”
“So you wouldn’t go out with Joe because Drew turned out to be an asshole?”
“Why would I want to make that mistake again?”
“Because next time might not be a mistake.”
“I still feel raw. I still can’t think about Drew with Amber without wanting to cry.”
“Do you still love him? Drew?”
“I hardly feel anything for him.”
“Then why do you still feel burned?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I can’t trust myself anymore to know when something is real and when it isn’t. I feel stupid for trusting him even when I started to see signs that maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Like what?”
“Just arguing over stupid things. It seemed like he was looking for ways to start an argument so he could storm out. I thought it was because I was spending so much more time at the studio, but in retrospect, I think it was just an excuse for him to see Amber and play the wronged husband.”
“That burning you feel? I think it’s your bruised ego. I think you feel raw because from what you’ve said, it seems it was all very public and everyone in your little town knew about it and on top of that, the woman he left you for is—was—a friend.”
“All that’s true.” Cara shrugged. “Maybe it’s just that having been publicly humiliated still hurts when I think about it. God knows I don’t want him back. But it doesn’t mean I can tell the difference between a guy who is sincere and a guy who seems sincere.”
“I don’t know a whole lot about men, but I do know that none of them come with guarantees.”
“Well, they should. They should come with grades or little caution cards. ‘Lies without conscience.’ ‘Will cheat every chance he gets.’ ‘Really does think that dress makes your ass look fat.’ ‘Only pretends to like puppies.’ ” Cara stood and brushed off her shorts.
“Yeah. Then we’ll all be fighting over the ones that say, ‘Will never look at someone else when he’s out with you.’ ‘Totally trustworthy.’ ‘A forever kind of guy.’ ”
“ ‘Great kisser.’ ‘Sweet and cuddly after sex.’ ”
Des laughed. “Maybe someone will come up with an app for that.”
“I’d definitely download it. Right now, I need to get moving. I want to call my friend Darla and have some time to chat before I leave to meet Joe.” Cara picked up her coffee mug and the thermos. “Are you going to stay up here for a while?”
“No, I think I should get going, too. I’m determined to find that box of old theater photos in the attic. They might come in handy if we run out of money and have to apply for grants.”
Des followed Cara down the trail, running behind her and matching her stride for stride until they reached the edge of the woods.
“Okay, I’m done.” Des appeared to be trying to laugh, but she was too winded. “I don’t know what made me think I could keep up with you.”
Cara stopped so Des could catch up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you were trying to. I would have slowed my pace.”
Des bent at the waist and sucked in air. “I will start running. Tomorrow.”
“Just pace yourself, start out on a slow and short run, then build up the distance. Don’t torture yourself by going too far too soon.”
They followed the path toward the house. Off to the left stood the outbuildings—the garage, the carriage house that connected to the main house via a stone porte cochere, and another building that could have been a stable at one time.
“Can you imagine what this place was like back in the day? I’ll bet it was the coolest place in Hidden Falls,” Des said.
“No doubt it was,” Cara agreed. “I can just see a carriage coming up that long drive.” She paused and glanced at the carriage house. “I wonder if they’re still in there.”
“What, the carriages? It wouldn’t surprise me, since we’re apparently descended from a long line of hoarders. Let’s check it out.”
They crossed the driveway and walked under the porte cochere. The carriage house had tall double doors set with high windows in the front, well over the heads of Cara and Des, and the doors were solidly locked.
“I saw a door on the other side,” Cara said. “Maybe it’s unlocked. I’d love to see what’s in there.”
But the side door was locked as securely as the front. However, the windows, though dirty, were low enough to peer through.
Des tried wiping away the dirt from the glass panes with her hand.
“Let me try.” Cara pulled up the bottom of her old sweatshirt and rubbed the glass. “That’s a little better.”
She held her hands around the sides of her face to block out the glare from the sun. “Oh, it’s empty.”
She stepped back for Des to look.
“I’m disappointed,” Des admitted. “With everything they held on to over the years, they apparently got rid of the carriages. Bummer. I’d have loved to see them.”
“I’ll bet there are photos somewhere. Maybe when you’re looking for pictures of the theater, you’ll come across some of the carriage. I’m betting that whoever put the photos in the attic didn’t bother to organize them.”
“Just think what fun you’ll have when you finally find the stash.”
“If I find it. You saw the amount of stuff in the attic. Finding anything is going to be like, well, needle, haystack.” Des stepped away from the window and, drawn to the area, Cara took one last look.
The carriage house was dark inside, but even in the dim light, Cara could see what looked like concrete floors and a high ceiling. A row of windows across the back would have let in tons of light had they not been filthy and had the trees behind the building not grown smack against the wall.
It could be a glorious space, Cara thought. There were so many things it could be used for. A guesthouse, maybe. Or a yoga studio. Not that she was planning on sticking around after the challenge had been met—and she was certain they would complete the challenge—but there was no denying the space spoke to her. Maybe sometime she’d ask Barney for the key so she could go inside and take a look around. But it wouldn’t be today. She had just enough time to clean up and get over to the theater. Ridding the old place of its unwanted inhabitants was the priority, and it couldn’t happen soon enough.
Living alone these past years hadn’t prepared Des to live with three other women, and she was savoring the peace and quiet of the attic. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed spending some time with Cara—she had. It was an interesting experience, meeting and getting to know your own sibling for the first time as an adult. She liked Cara. She was straightforward and open and thoughtful. In some ways, she felt closer to this woman she’d just met than to the sister she’d grown up with.
It was too bad Cara and Allie had married such jerks. They both deserved better. Every woman did.
She thought back to her last few relationships and acknowledged that none of them had lasted because they shouldn’t have. Kent was destined to join that long list of guys who couldn’t cut it with Des, she knew. It hadn’t even occurred to her to give him a call since she got here. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met a guy who gave her that little jolt that you get when you’re with someone who does it for you.
Okay, there was that guy at the bar last night, but he was so totally not her type, interesting though he had been. Tall, bald, sculpted arms covered with tattoos, he’d come up behind her at the bar and said hello. She wasn’t even sure he’d been talking to her until she realized he was staring at her. Finally, she smiled and looked away, busying herself trying to catch the attention of the bartender.
“You’re one of the Hudson sisters,” she’d heard him say.
Des had turned and looked up at him. Deep brown eyes had gazed down on her from a rugged face that, while not handsome, was arresting.
“That’s right.” Curious, she asked, “How would you know that?”
“You look like a Hudson. What are you drinking?”
“Yuengling.”
“Two Yuenglings,” he’d called to the bartender, who acknowledged with a nod.
“So which of the sisters are you?” He’d turned his attention back to Des.
“I’m Des,” she told him.
“I meant, one of Nora’s or one of the second wife’s?”
“I’m Nora’s younger. My father’s second wife only had one daughter.” She’d nodded at the table where her sisters sat. “Cara, in the black sweater.”
“Sitting with Joe?”
“You know him?”
“Went to kindergarten all the way through college with him.”
“You went to college?”
He’d laughed out loud good-naturedly. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to make conversation or if you’re trying to insult me so that I’ll leave you alone.”
“Conversation.” Des had felt color rising from her chest to her cheeks. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“Uh-huh.” He was still smiling when the bartender set their beers up on the counter and Des handed the man a ten-dollar bill.
“On the house.” The bartender turned to the bald man and said, “See you at the meeting this week, Seth?”
“I’ll be there.” The bald man had glanced down at Des. “I’m Seth, by the way. I’m a friend of your aunt’s.”
“It seems like everyone in Hidden Falls is a good friend of Barney’s.”
“Everyone is.” He took a long drink from the bottle, then set it on the bar. “How are you liking Hidden Falls so far?”
“I like it pretty well. Aside from its obvious shortcoming, that is.”
“What shortcoming?”
“There’s no animal shelter.”
“What?”
“There’s no rescue shelter for animals in Hidden Falls. I asked Barney about it the other day and she said there wasn’t a shelter of any kind for lost, abandoned, or abused animals.”
Seth appeared to reflect on what she’d said. “The police pick up lost dogs and take them to the station until they can track down the owner.”
“What if they can’t?”
“I’m not sure.”
“And animals that have been abused?”
“Anytime anyone sees anything going on that shouldn’t, they call Ben—that’s the chief of police—and he personally looks into it.”
“And does what?”
“Whatever needs to be done.”
“He’ll take a dog away from someone who’s abused it?”
“I guess so.”
“You’d have to ask him that.”
“Dogfights?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Cockfights?”
A smile had played on his lips, but he just shook his head no.
“No strays?”
“Well, sure. From time to time we’ve had some strays. People sometimes do stupid things, like bring their dogs up into the mountains and let them go.”
“What do you do in cases like that?”
He’d rubbed his stubbled chin. “I think the last time, someone took the dog in. Or maybe took it to the SPCA over in Harlow Park. Not sure, now that you ask.” He stared at her with dark eyes. “Where are you headed with all this?”
“I’m trying to figure out what Hidden Falls does with animals that need help.”
“What would you like to see done?”
“I think this town should have a rescue shelter. What would someone do if they wanted to start one?”
“I guess they’d look into the ordinances regarding kennels or keeping animals.”
“Maybe the library has that information,” she’d said mostly to herself.
“And if there are no ordinances, I guess the next step might be to bring it up to the town council.”
“Right. That makes sense. Thanks for the tip. I’ll keep that in mind. I’m sure Barney knows when and where the town council meets.”
“There’s a meeting on Wednesday. Seven p.m. The conference room in the back of the police station.” He’d smiled again. “If you’re thinking about going, go early if you want in. The place fills up fast.”
“There are that many people in Hidden Falls who show up for these meetings?”
“Not much else to do on a Wednesday night around here.”
Right then, an older man had come up behind them and slapped Seth on the back and begun to rail about something. Des turned away so as not to appear to be eavesdropping. She tried to ignore a ping of disappointment because she’d been enjoying the conversation with Seth. He’d seemed genuinely interested in her thoughts about a shelter and had given her what sounded like good advice. Despite his tough appearance, he was soft-spoken and thoughtful and cute in his own way. That is, if a bald giant covered with tattoos could be considered cute.
Once the idea of setting up a shelter took hold, Des had had a hard time thinking about anything else. She sat up half the night making lists of the steps she might take. She had the time, the resources, and the experience to run a shelter. All she needed was the place.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, she warned herself. She already had one big project on her plate. She wasn’t sure how much of her time it’d take to keep the theater’s records and paying the contractors’ bills once they started on the actual renovations.
She’d check the internet to find the closest rescue group and see if they could use her services. She missed having a furry friend by her side. Maybe at some point she’d talk to Barney, find out how she’d feel about Des possibly bringing a dog into the house. Hypothetically, of course.
But right now, there was the job of locating the photos. She’d love to find pictures of the opening night to share with the local newspapers, maybe even the TV stations in Wilkes-Barre and Scranton. It would be great publicity to drum up interest for the theater in Hidden Falls, and publicity could increase their chances of getting those grants if need be.
And wouldn’t it be great if they took photos all throughout the renovation process, maybe put them together in a book with some of the older ones? Des could see pictures of the boarded-up front door side by side with a shot from the 1920s showing the door partially open for a handsomely dressed patron going in. The more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. The book could be an effective fund-raiser, and they needn’t wait till they were running out of money to put the book on sale.
She’d have to discuss it with the others, of course, but she was pretty sure they’d agree it was a great idea. And she’d probably have to turn the actual design process over to Allie, who had a much better sense of such things. But as long as it brought in funds they might need and generated interest in the theater within the community, Des didn’t care if her sister got all the credit. The important thing was that it was done, and done right.
But first, she had to find those photos.