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Maggie knew she could call Becky. Or maybe even Fern. But her pride was bigger than that. And, anyway, if she could solve this thing right now—if she could find a great little rental and sign her name on the dotted line—then everything would be just fine. No need to drag her kids into someone else’s house. No need to dive into the details of her dysfunctional world.
Gary Hart leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk in front of him. The shift of his heft pushed air out from the cushion of his chair, and he winced in embarrassment. But he pushed ahead, undaunted. “Your credit’s shot to heck, Hun,” he answered. The flesh of his elbows rubbed across the varnished finish, and Maggie wondered why on earth he was wearing short sleeves in such weather.
The man dabbed at a sheet of sweat forming along his hairline, which was high enough to nearly disappear from sight. She closed her eyes and forced herself to be nice. And patient. And hopeful. She had no room to judge this kind man. No room at all. “I think I can get cash, Mr. Hart.” Why hadn’t she stopped at the bank first?
“You can’t sign a lease agreement without even marginal credit, Hun. I’m terribly sorry. You know, I have a sister who might rent to you. Up in Corydon...”
Maggie shook her head. “I can’t move. It has to be local. My kids are in school here. My clients are here. You don’t know of anyone who’d be willing to... work with me?”
Gary Hart’s expression softened. “Listen, Miss Maggie. I’ll make some calls. You know property management is not my main line of business here. Leave me your phone number, and I’ll be in touch if I can find anything. All right, Hun?”
She nodded and took his business card, flipping it over to jot down her number before thanking him and rising.
With no family to impose on, and no friends she was willing to humiliate herself in front of, Maggie stomped out to the SUV.
“Well?” Gretchen pressed as soon as the door fell closed.
“He’ll call us if something comes up.” Maggie put the car in reverse and briefly checked over her shoulder just in time to avoid backing squarely into a clearly confused man wandering through the parking lot. “Crud knuckles!” Maggie sputtered, darting a glance in her rearview to see the boys focused on a screen and Briar babbling to her doll. Maggie’s heartbeat shot to triple pace and fell back again.
Gretchen twisted in her seat. “Hey, I know him,” she said, her voice a murmur.
Initially inclined to wait a second then speed off and up the hill toward Hickory Grove Inn, Maggie glanced at her daughter who repeated herself. “Mom, I know that man.”
Exasperated, Maggie asked her how she knew him then squinted into her side view mirror to get a better look. “Oh my Lord, it’s Rhett Houston.” Immediately, she slunk deep down in her seat and waved at Gretchen to do the same. “How the heck do you know him?” she hissed to her daughter as she kept her face firmly turned from the window.
A giggle escaped the teenager’s mouth. “He came into Mally’s today. Ordered a burger and coffee and chatted with Theo. Said he knew you,” Gretchen concluded pointedly.
A flush crept up Maggie’s neck as she peeked over the door to discover the coast was clear. “Yes, well,” she answered, straightening and backing out carefully so as not to draw attention. “We were friends in high school. That’s all. Wonder why he’s walking around Hickory Grove?”
“Theo said he blew a tire on the way here. He’s moving back home, he told us. Has land somewhere. Gonna build on it.” Gretchen was growing bored of the conversation, and Maggie had no energy to devote to someone she barely knew anymore.
“Mama, where are we going? I’m hungry,” Ky called from the far back seat.
Maggie shifted into gear and took off. “We’re going to stay in a hotel everyone,” she declared, smiling as genuine a smile as she could muster. “And you can even order room service!”
Gretchen flicked a sidelong glance to her mother. “Since when does the Hickory Grove Inn offer room service?”
Just as Maggie began to shoot a smart retort to her oldest, Dakota interrupted. “Gretch, you’re getting a phone call.”
“Who is it?” Gretchen asked.
“Miss Becky.”
“Oh, shoot,” Gretchen replied. “Just let it go to voicemail.”
Dakota took the direction, and then Maggie’s own phone buzzed to life on the console. Now entirely suspicious, she took a deep breath. “I take it you told Becky. Answer my phone, Gretchen May Engel.”
Gretchen snatched up the device and held it to her chest. “I’m sorry, Mom. I told Theo. I wanted to help.”
“You told him about our business? Becky Linden is my best friend. She already knows my business. If I want to tell her more of it, then I reserve that right from now on. Give me the dang phone, young lady.”
The eighteen-year-old tapped Accept and passed the device over.
“Hi, Beck.” Maggie sighed into the phone before launching into a full-blown explanation of the day’s events.
Yes, everyone’s fine.
No, they didn’t need her help.
She promised. She swore.
No, they couldn’t stay in the house. Not even one more night.
Technically, yes, they could stay in the house several more nights, but it was a true eviction notice.
Bank-owned.
Maggie had to leave. With the kids. Pronto.
Becky pressed her on this one. “Is it Travis? Are you afraid of him?”
Maggie glanced to Gretchen who was watching and listening as well as she could through the squabbling in the back seat.
“No,” Maggie replied. “But I don’t think it’s smart for us to sit there and wait. The woman on the phone said an offer had been made on the house, and if I can’t match or beat it with cash, then the new owners could make us leave immediately.”
Becky fought this point, claiming she could bring Zack Durbin in on the case, but Maggie refused. She did not have the cash. And if Travis did, then maybe pigs could fly, too. And even if pigs could fly, Maggie saw the whole mess as her chance to get out from under him. “I’ll figure something out,” Maggie insisted. “I don’t want to discuss it right now. Kids are here.” She looked over her shoulder.
“Maggie, what is your long-term plan? You can’t just live in a hotel room indefinitely.”
Her best friend had a point. “True. Okay, Beck. If I can’t pull something together in two nights, then I’ll ask Zack for help. Deal?”
“Deal,” Becky huffed. “Mags, just... be smart for once, okay?”
It took every last ounce of strength Maggie could muster not to totally hang up on her friend. Pulling from her deepest reserves, she bid Becky a terse farewell just as they pulled up to the Hickory Grove Inn.
The building itself was a converted mansion or boarding house of some sort. Practically ancient—for the area—and looming at the very end of Overlook Lane. But the new owner had made it work as a cross between a hostel and a charming bed-and-breakfast.
Maggie left the children in the car to go and see about a vacancy. The snow had finally stopped, and she moved quickly up the crumbly, salted steps wondering what in the world she would do if there were no available rooms.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she stalled outside the front door to answer it. Fern Gale.
Great.
“Hi, Fern,” Maggie answered, unwilling to avoid the inevitable. “I guess you heard? Or saw?” Though Fern was Maggie’s next-door neighbor, that didn’t mean she had instant access to the drama unfolding one door down. On Pine Tree Lane, every property was over an acre in size, and Fern’s was several.
Fern’s warm voice nearly brought Maggie to tears. Any pity was hard to take, but coming from sweet Fern—the redhead almost broke. “Maggie, I hope you will bring the kids here to stay. You know I have more than enough room. I’d love to have you.”
Maggie thanked her second-best friend profusely but declined, asserting that they had a plan and all would be well. She swallowed a sob.
“What about all your belongings?” Fern pried.
“I’ll get them. I just—I need space. I’ll send someone. Hire someone, even. We wanted to make a clean break.” Maggie cringed at her own turn of phrase. She wasn’t running from anything.
Was she?