Need
Alice—A new life.
Lauren—I second that, preferably in Bali.
Lauren—And also dark chocolate with sea salt.
Knox—this is for WORK-RELATED NEEDS ONLY, LADIES!
Knox almost always got up early. It was a holdover from when he’d been a kid. He’d get up before the sun, check to make sure his mom was home and breathing, and then he’d walk or ride his bike the few miles to the lake. In summer, he’d swim or bodysurf for as many hours as he had. In the winter, when it was too cold to get in the frigid waters, he’d stand at the shoreline, with the swells lapping gently over the rocky sand, and look out at the mountains, which were the only sure thing in his life. It was there at the glorious blue lakeside where he’d learned to manage his emotions.
From the lake, he’d go to school, and then after that to the inn, where his mom worked as Eleanor’s housekeeper. Eleanor gave him work too, doing whatever she needed, whatever it took to keep his and his mom’s world together.
He’d failed at that, spectacularly. He’d been eighteen and just out of high school when she’d succumbed to alcohol poisoning. For years, he’d blamed himself, thinking if only he’d tried harder . . . But with some hindsight and the dubious honor of maturity, he knew no one could have saved her but herself.
When he’d left Sunrise Cove, he’d stayed in touch with Eleanor, visiting her whenever he could—though he’d not made time to stand at Lake Tahoe’s edge, not once.
Deciding to remedy that, he got out of the ridiculously frilly bed. Yeah, he was still sleeping in the pink room. Alice had refused to switch with him, saying she was allergic to lace. If that was true, he’d eat the lace thong he’d caught a tantalizing glimpse of the other day when her jeans had slid to a dangerous, sexy low as she worked on the floorboards. “She’s playing me,” he told Pickle. “But I’m not playing back. I don’t have a death wish. Time to get up.” And doing his best to ignore the miles and miles of lace, he got up and dressed.
Pickle opened one eye, watching suspiciously from the foot of the bed.
“We’re going for a run.”
Pickle closed his eye.
“I will leave you here.”
Pickle leaped off the bed. He wasn’t fond of exercise in any form, but he had a serious case of FOMO and couldn’t stand to be left behind.
They got to the lake just as dawn arrived and stood breathing heavily at the shoreline, Knox feeling vibrantly awake, Pickle plopping onto the sand.
Knox took in the deep azure-blue waters of one of the highest alpine lakes in the country and breathed in the almost unbearably familiar calm quiet. Just like always when he stood right here, his problems seemed so far away.
Pickle gave a startled “woo-woo” and took off after a gaggle of geese coming out of the water. With alarmed squawks, they scattered but regrouped quickly to begin stalking Pickle, flapping their wings at him in indignant anger.
Pickle dodged left and then right, trying to catch up with them, but they were smarter and stayed out of reach. Finally he sat, looking confused.
That was when the biggest goose came up behind him and bit him on the ass.
With a yelp, Pickle leaped straight up in the air, but by the time he came down, the goose was gone.
“Don’t write checks you can’t cash,” Knox suggested.
When the sky was aglow with the sun’s rays peeking over the tops of the rocky peaks, touching down on the glass-like lake, they headed back.
At the inn, he stopped at the mailbox because he was pretty sure no one had checked the mail in a couple of days. Normally Lauren did the chore, so he was surprised at the note taped to the outside.
Alice and/or Knox, but hopefully Knox because you won’t laugh at me:
Inside is two days of mail being held hostage by a big fat hairy spider with googly eyes and a LOT of legs. Every time I try to reach in, he gives me the come-and-get-me gesture with two of those spindly legs. If one of you could convince him to move to a new home or brutally murder him, I’d so appreciate it.
Lauren
Knox opened the mailbox and pulled out the stack of mail. No big fat hairy spider with googly eyes and a lot of legs. He headed inside, dropped the mail on the table, filled Pickle’s water bowl, fed him, then took a shower. He and Alice had fixed the circuit breakers three days ago now, and he’d discovered he could handle almost anything as long as he had hot showers. This morning, he happily stood under the hot steaming water for far longer than necessary before dressing and heading back to the kitchen and the coffemaker he’d bought the other day, needing to mainline some caffeine.
He was leaning against the counter doing exactly that when he heard Alice scream from the bathroom: “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”
“Brace yourself,” he warned Pickle.
Sure enough, Alice showed up in the kitchen doorway a moment later, wrapped in nothing but a towel and water droplets, her hair full of shampoo, the suds running down her face and shoulders, vanishing into the towel. “You,” she ground out.
How the woman managed to irritate the hell out of him and turn him on all at the same time, he had no idea. “Looks like we need to add a bigger water heater to our list.”
Not mollified in the slightest, she pointed at him. “This is war,” she announced, and stomped off, leaving wet footprints on the wood floor.
Oh, good. War. “Careful,” he called after her. “Wet wood can be really slippery—”
As he said the word, she indeed went slip-sliding and nearly fell onto her ass, but she caught herself and her towel.
Sometimes life was a bitch.
“War,” she repeated at a higher volume this time.
Pickle whined, his heavy brow wrinkled in worry.
“Don’t worry,” Alice told him. “It’s not you. You are adorable.” Once again, she pointed at Knox. “You are not.”
“Understood.”
She adjusted her towel. “I’ll be back after my cold shower. Oh, and there’s a spider on top of the stack of mail. Don’t let Lauren see it, she’s more afraid of spiders than she is of dogs.”
Knox turned, and yep, sure enough, a big, fat, hairy spider complete with googly eyes and a lot of legs sat on the mail on the kitchen table like it owned the place. There you are. “Right. I’ll brutally murder it, right away.”
Alice stared at him like he’d grown an extra head. “What is wrong with you? No murder. Relocate her, because maybe she’s a mama. But if you want any peace in this house, take her far away from the house.” Shaking her head, she started to walk away. “Oh, and we’ve got a leak in the ceiling of my bathroom.”
When she was gone, Knox relocated the spider out in the field, then rinsed his mug, set it in the dishwasher, and snapped for Pickle. “You heard the woman. We’d better get to work.”
Outside, he eyed the eaves. They appeared to be overloaded with dried pine needles and, given the droppings along the house, probably also field mice.
This wasn’t a problem for him. He’d spent the past few years in literal hellholes. Being here was not only a piece of cake, it was also a reminder of where he’d come from. Eleanor had nourished his love of building things. She’d challenged him, saying, “Boy, I bet you can’t fix those steps.” Or “Fix the leaky kitchen sink” . . . and he’d figure it out.
The bottom line was that she’d given him a valuable skill, and a way to pull himself out of the gutter. She’d saved him, and there was only one way to repay her—save this inn. He was still standing there staring up at the roof when Alice came up next to him.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
He slid her an amused glance. “So we’re speaking?”
“When required.”
She’d braided her wet hair, which hung down her back. No makeup, torn-through-the-knees jeans, and a sweatshirt, scarf, and work boots, yet somehow she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Wow,” a woman said behind them. “The place looks just like it does on the show.”
Knox and Alice turned in unison to find three women in their sixties, in various leisure wear and supportive athletic shoes, all of them phones up, snapping photos.
They each had a lanyard around their neck, their badges proudly claiming them as Last Chance Inn Fan Club Premiere Members.
“This is private land,” Alice said. “You can’t just come out here and start taking pictures.”
“Oh, but they’re for Last Chance’s fan club’s Instagram page,” the first woman said. She beamed in her black-and-white polyester tracksuit. “I’m the president. We’re based out of L.A., but we drove up here to get some pics. When we post them, all the other ladies are going to be so jealous.”
The woman in the middle, wearing purple velour and matching lipstick, said, “We heard there might be a remake, filmed here. Are you two going to be the stars? You sure got the sexual chemistry down.”
Knox slid an amused look to Alice. She narrowed her eyes. “No,” he said. “We’re not actors, and there’s no reboot happening, that’s just a rumor.”
“Bummer,” the president said. “Do you think we could pretend you didn’t tell us that last part and get a pic of you two?”
“Oh yes,” the third musketeer said in migraine-inducing yellow terry cloth sweats. “And could you two stand closer together? And maybe kiss?”
“Seriously?” Alice asked. “We—”
Knox put a hand on her shoulder and leaned closer to the ladies. “We’re the owners of the property, getting the inn ready for the reopening. If you want to post about that, we’d love to give you a pic or two.”
Alice whipped her face to his, which he ignored, because the ladies squealed and had their phones back up and ready. He slid his arms around Alice and dipped her dramatically, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before bringing her upright again. He half expected her to knee him in the family jewels, or at least warn him to sleep with one eye open. He didn’t expect her to dig her fingers into his biceps and close her eyes at the feel of his mouth to her soft skin like she enjoyed the touch.
When he brought her back up, she stared wide-eyed at him.
“More, more, more,” the women chanted, practically vibrating with glee.
“That was plenty,” Alice said tightly, stepping back from Knox.
“She’s as grumpy as Eleanor Graham was,” one of the ladies said cheerfully. “Love it.”
“Now, Alda, we don’t know. Look at her, maybe she just needs some carbs.”
Alice opened her mouth, and Knox pulled her in tight against him, palming the back of her head and not so accidentally, smashing her face to his chest. “Okay, ladies, that’s it,” he said.
“You can bet your sweet ass that’s it,” Alice muttered into his shirt.
“Remember,” he said, waving, “we open next month!”
“Well, isn’t he the hottest thing since sliced bread,” one of the three ladies said as they got into their car.
Knox was grinning as they drove off.
Alice shoved free. “Wow,” she said.
Most definitely not a compliment. “You think you’re ready to work now, or do you want to pander for some more future guests?”
“Are you saying you had no fun at all realizing how much this place means to people?”
“I’m saying the dip and kiss wasn’t necessary.”
“My apologies.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not even a little bit sorry.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “Feel free to get even anytime you want.”
“We’re on the clock, funny guy. Tick-tock. Let’s get on this. Paint, right?”
“We’ve got to handle the leak before we paint,” he said.
She nodded.
He cocked his head, amused. “Did you just agree with me on something?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“We need the ladder again. Tell me you didn’t put it away.”
“Of course I put it away,” he said. “I never leave stuff out. But it’s just leaning up against the side of the barn.”
“Okay, you go get the ladder while I assess our situation.”
“So you’re going to avoid the barn the whole time you’re here then.”
She sucked in a breath but didn’t ask him how he knew, just turned her head and stared at him with those whiskey see-all eyes. “Maybe.”
He nodded, and when he didn’t press, she looked surprised. “You’re not going to tell me that’s a stupid plan?”
He shrugged. “You’re a big girl. You already know that.”
This won him a very small, wry laugh, which felt a whole lot like winning the lottery. He and Pickle went and retrieved the ladder. The minute he set it against the side of the inn, Alice stripped off her scarf and sweatshirt and started climbing.
“Déjà vu,” he said on a sigh.
“Look,” she said, “I can get a look at the eaves and assess the situation. Because there’s a lot of stuff coming up that I can’t help you with, so I want to do everything I can to pull my weight.”
He doubted she’d ever not pulled her weight, but before he could say so, her cell phone began vibrating on the ground next to the sweatshirt and scarf she’d tossed aside.
“Crap,” she said, stopping halfway up the ladder. “Who is it?”
He looked at the readout. “Miguel.”
She grimaced.
“Boyfriend?”
“Work,” she said. “Answer on speaker so I can talk?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Knox entered the four-digit code she rattled off and answered the call on speaker with, “Alice’s phone.”
There was a weighted pause. Then a gruff male voice. “Who’s this?”
“Alice’s phone,” Knox repeated.
From above him, Alice rolled her eyes. “Miguel, it’s me,” she called. “What’s up?”
“Oh, hey, darlin’,” the voice said, softening, going flirtatious. “How’s it going there? Ready to come home to Flagstaff yet?”
Knox looked at Alice in time to see her roll her eyes again. “I know I told you guys I’d be a month.”
“Maybe you want to fly in for a visit then. Say this next weekend.”
And maybe Knox should have accidentally disconnected the guy when he had the chance.
“Let me guess,” Alice said dryly. “Steve or Eddie gave you overtime, and you’ve got a hot date lined up, so you want to foist your shift off on me.”
“Come on, A, don’t be like that. You know you’re my first choice for a hot date. Only all you ever do is turn me down. Who’s the guy? The one who answered?”
Alice met Knox’s gaze. “Take the overtime, Miguel. You need the money, since you keep spending it like it’s candy. Tell me you miss me and say goodbye.”
“I miss you. We all miss you.”
“Yeah, because I’m the only one who knows how to run the place,” Alice said. “Listen, I’ve gotta go, but remind Eddie he owes you from that time he got so drunk on the plane home from Vegas, he couldn’t work for two days. That should clear you so you can go on your date.”
Miguel laughed. “You’re right. Thanks.” He paused. “You okay, A? Cuz me and Eddie could road trip up to visit.”
“Wow, you really do miss me. But yeah, I’m good. Oh, and Miguel?” There was a smile in her voice now when she said, “I miss you guys too.” Then she jerked a chin toward Knox, which he assumed meant please disconnect the call.
Alice started climbing the ladder again without another word. Apparently, they weren’t going to talk about it. At the top of the ladder, she peered into the rain gutter. “Huh.”
“Need help?”
“No, Fort Knox, I do not.”
“I asked you not to call me that.”
“No, you most definitely did not ask. You commanded. Hold on, I just gotta get past all the pine needles to find the problem.”
“The leak’s about six inches to your right.”
“Is that real inches or penis inches?” She chortled at the grimace on his face and reached into the gutter. Coming up with a handful of pine needles, she tossed them down, barely missing him.
“Hey.”
“Oops.” She sent him a smart-ass smile that he secretly loved. “Sorry.”
He pulled a pine needle from his hair. “Liar.”
She grinned, then reached in for another handful and gasped, nearly tumbling off the ladder.
Not sure what the problem was, he raced up the ladder behind her to keep her from falling as she exclaimed, “A mouse!”
He was behind her now, pressed up against her, caging her in his arms.
She pointed across the roof. “It ran off.”
“It’s okay. It was probably just a field mouse. They’re destructive, but meek. He won’t hurt you, and I’ve got traps I can set.”
“Oh, I know she won’t hurt me.” Her eyes narrowed to little slits. “And you’re not murdering a field mouse.”
Knowing better than to pick this hill to die on, he nodded. “Not murdering. Relocating. They’re humane traps.”
“No. You can’t separate families!”
He paused, trying to decide how to approach this and still get his way. “Pretty sure our guests won’t want to share the inn with mice, Alice.”
She opened her mouth, no doubt to argue with him about something, but then she suddenly paused. “Tell me that’s a hammer in your pocket.”
“It’s whatever you want it to be.”
She narrowed her eyes and he pulled the hammer from the tool belt on his hips, the one that had gotten caught between them.
With a snort, she snatched the hammer. “I’ve got this.”
He backed down the ladder, but oddly, he didn’t want to. Pressed up against her, he’d felt the same electric shock he’d felt standing on the washing machine with her. Interesting, and he wondered if she felt it too. Deciding that he didn’t need that intel, he just watched her work.
“I see a problem,” she called down a few minutes later. She’d used the handle of the hammer to clear the rest of the drain pipe of pine needles. “It’s an ice dam from that storm the other day. But also, I think we need to divert the water away from here. We did this once down in Flagstaff with a sheet of metal.” With that, she climbed down and turned to face him. “How did I do?”
He had to smile. “You know exactly how you did. I’m impressed.”
“The things you learn when you need money,” she said with a small laugh, as if uncomfortable with the compliment. The laugh had sounded a little rusty, and he realized that he hadn’t heard her laugh much, if at all, but when she smiled, it lit up her whole face and transformed her completely.
“Do you need help with the ice dam?” she asked.
Did he? No. Did he want her company? Yes. So they went to the hardware store for the metal, then broke apart the ice and attached the sheet of metal in place.
After, he went to work on the downstairs bathroom. He had to demo so he could replace the floor, countertop, sink, and toilet over the next week. As he worked, Alice dragged out the pile of decimated bathroom. He learned she could swear like a sailor, and so creatively that he actually catalogued a few new oaths. After the demo, he took over cleaning up the mess, and Alice vanished.
He ended up in the kitchen late in the afternoon, starving. He’d hit up the grocery store a few nights back, picking up what he considered the essentials. He was getting ready to cook himself something to eat when Alice appeared as well, dusty from head to toe.
“I cleaned off the show sets,” she said.
“For Lauren?”
She sighed. “Yeah.”
Lauren had been adamant that they showcase the sets, that guests would want to take pictures of themselves on them. Knox agreed with her. He just found it funny that Alice always did Lauren’s bidding, even when not speaking to her. Funny and touching, because at the end of the day, it was obvious that Alice cared about Lauren, deeply. But probably if he pointed that out she’d kill him with his own hammer.
Alice went straight to a cabinet. She had also made a store run, but near as Knox could tell, it was mostly fast, easy convenience food. She opened a bag of chips, poured each of them a bowl.
“Don’t get used to this level of service,” she said. “And just so you know, if I have to open it, pour it, or stir it, it’s homemade.”
He laughed, aware of her watching as he took ingredients from the fridge and then put together food in under ten minutes. She actually moaned when he set a plate in front of her. Hash browns, eggs, sausage, toast.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” she said.
“Don’t be impressed, it was a survival thing. And breakfast’s the only thing I can make.”
She looked up at him, studying his face for a moment. “You cooked for you and your mom?”
So she knew a little something about him too. Seemed fair. “Yes.”
She nodded. “Childhoods suck.”
He laughed wryly, liking her attitude and the fact she didn’t feel sorry for herself. He watched as she inhaled the food he’d made, feeling oddly satisfied at her letting him feed her. “You’re different today,” he said. “You’re different without Lauren here.”
She froze, fork halfway to her mouth. “What does that mean?”
“You’re less on edge. More at ease.” And . . . sure of herself, he thought. So sure of herself. It was sexy as hell.
She shrugged. “I guess I’m getting used to being back.” She paused again. Hesitated. “Not all blasts from the past are good ones, you know?”
“Very much so.” He cocked his head. “You ever going to tell me about you and Lauren?”
“It’s a very long story.”
“I like long stories,” he said.
“I . . .” She shut her mouth and looked away. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”
He nodded. “I can understand that.”
She looked relieved, then gave him a side eye. “Did we just agree on something else?”
“Go figure.” He scooped up some food. “So you learned construction in Arizona?”
“Actually, it started with Eleanor,” she said, a small smile on her lips, maybe at the memories.
Not much surprised him, but this did. “Eleanor? She used to make me do all the stuff around the house. She said she didn’t know how.”
Alice laughed again, less rusty now, an almost musical sound that had him smiling back. “She enjoyed playing the evil queen, but the truth was, she collected lost souls and liked to make sure they were capable before she let them back out into the wild.”
As he well knew. “So once you were released into the wild, where did you go?”
Her gaze was soft, inward, her expression reflective. “You first. You left when I was fourteen.”
“I went to a trade school in Seattle,” he said. “I didn’t learn until later that Eleanor had secured me a sponsorship, which she made me pay back by volunteering for three months with an organization that rebuilds communities after natural disasters all over the world. I stayed a year. From there, I ended up going into business with two of the guys I’d been working with.”
She smiled. “She was a sneaky, manipulative one. Do you like what you do?”
“Love it,” he said and pointed at her. It was her turn.
She shrugged. “I bounced around, doing different jobs here and there. Nothing as exciting as you. I wasn’t nearly as smart, and rebuked Eleanor’s efforts to get me into college.”
“You also left mechanics in your rearview mirror,” he said quietly.
“Maybe I just grew up.”
“That you most definitely did. Right nice, too.”
She snorted. “If you only knew about the stupid crush I had on you.”
“Oh, I knew.”
Her mouth dropped open. “No way. We never talked. And I was stealth. The stealthiest of stealth. The queen of the stealthiest of stealth.”
“Oh, you mean when you used to hide in the loft and watch me work?”
She grimaced. “Fine. So I liked when you used to chop wood. You’d get hot and take off your shirt.” She slid him a sly smile. “Teenage Alice thanks you.”
“Good to know.” He cocked his head. “And grown-up Alice?”
She bit her lower lip while looking at his mouth. “She’s . . . undecided.”
What an adorably sexy liar. “You’re flirting with me again.”
She met his gaze. “Am I?”
He smiled. “Yeah. But you’re also just playing with me right now. You let me know when you mean it.”
She sucked in a breath but said nothing, clearly knowing the value of silence.
But he knew it too, so he simply looked right back at her. As it had several times now, the air seemed to crackle and pop around them. “Yeah, that pesky electrical problem is most definitely us.”
This had her taking in another deep breath. “What’s between you and Nikki?”
Out of the blue, but a fair question. “Nada.”
She studied him, trying to read him. He hoped like hell he was broadcasting his truth, which was that he felt currently . . . messed up, but not because of Nikki.
He was mourning Eleanor. And also mourning both the best and worst time of his life. When he’d run into Nikki the other day, it should’ve been a gut bomb, but instead all he felt was an echo of a long-ago hurt. And if that wasn’t confusing enough, he was feeling sparks for the woman who used to be a girl, running around here with a ponytail and dirt smudged on her cheek. In fact, she still wore a ponytail and had dirt on her jaw.
“If you ever want to talk about it,” she said quietly, “I’m a pretty good listener.”
“Noted.” He held her gaze. “And same.”
Her mouth curved in an ironic smile. “Noted.”
They were both still staring at each other when they heard the front door open and Lauren yell “Hey!”
Alice jumped a foot back from Knox, as if they’d been doing something naughty. Since they hadn’t been, it meant the naughtiness had been all in her mind, which he liked. A lot.
Brushing past him, Alice headed to the living room and he followed, both of them breaking into a run when Lauren suddenly screamed.
“What’s wrong?” Alice demanded, pushing Knox out of the way to get to Lauren first.
She was standing on the foyer table in . . . a Mother Goose costume? And her feet were tap-dancing frantically. “A rat! It’s under the table!”
“And there’s a Mother Goose on top of our table,” Alice said, stopping short.
“I’m not kidding!” Lauren yelled.
Before Knox could move, Alice got down on all fours and looked. “Aw, it’s not a rat. It’s a baby field mouse. Looks like the one Knox and I met earlier.”
“What the—”
“Shh, you’re scaring her.” Alice came back up, hands cradled. She opened them just enough to reveal a black mouse the size of a quarter.
“Oh my God!”
“Shh! Minnie Mouse isn’t used to screaming. Or a five-foot-two Mother Goose.” Alice then carefully walked the mouse outside.
“She touched the mouse,” Lauren said to Knox, not moving from her perch. “She just picked it right up in her bare hands. Is she crazy?”
Yes. But in the very best of ways. “Here.” He gave her a hand down just as Alice came back in, sans Minnie.
“I set her in the flower planter right next to where we saw the droppings earlier,” she reported.
He smiled at her and she did a double take. Note to self: try smiling more often.
Lauren strode straight to the lists on the living room wall, her Mother Goose posture one of indignation. She stopped before the Need list, blew a feather away from her face, and wrote: mousetraps.
Alice walked up to the wall, took the Sharpie, and . . . crossed it off. “We already know about the mice and are handling it,” she said and smiled. “There. See what I did? I used Ground Rule number three and communicated.”
“Since we’re on the subject of Ground Rule number three,” Lauren said, “there’s something I need to tell you guys.”
“You’re allergic to mice as well as dogs?” Alice asked.
“You’re not funny, and no.”
“Is it about why you’re in a Mother Goose costume? And you’re seriously molting, by the way.” Alice swiped a feather from midair. “Is this some sort of role-play thing?”
“What is wrong with you?” Lauren asked. “I’m the Story Time Lady at the library.”
“That was my second guess,” Alice said.
Lauren sighed, as if greatly tried. Knox understood the sentiment.
“I’m trying to tell you something,” Lauren said.
Knox turned to her. “If this is about the yarn you sneaked into the cart, I already saw.”
Lauren paused. “I didn’t buy any yarn.”
“Well, someone did,” Knox said. “And it sure as hell wasn’t me.” He paused. “Not that there’s anything wrong with knitting or anything.”
Next to him, Alice shifted.
He looked at her and went brows up. “You?”
“Fine, I don’t look like the sort of woman who knits, I get it!” She tossed up her hands.
“Wait,” Lauren said. “You knit?”
Alice glared at them both. “So?”
“I just can’t believe the badass tomboy knits. You hate stuff like that.”
Alice crossed her arms. “You’re standing there in a goose costume and you want to talk about the fact that I knit? And I’m not badass. You’re just jealous because I’m . . .” She appeared to be searching for the right word. “Adventurous.”
“Hey,” Lauren said. “I’m adventurous too.”
“Not a single day in your life.”
Lauren looked at Knox, who gave an apologetic smile. “I didn’t think you were either.”
“Ha!” Lauren pointed at them both. “Shows how much you know! I just signed up for zip-lining!”
Now it was Alice who looked shocked. “You did?”
“Yes! Even though on the company’s website, the lead guy was in sandals. So there! Tackling two fears at the same time!” Lauren looked pleased with herself. “Which means that now we’re both adventurous.” She fingered the scarf around Alice’s neck. “I guess the knitting explains this thing.”
Alice’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with my scarf?”
They all looked at the variegated blue scarf around her neck. It was uneven, narrow in some spots and thick in others, and the stitches seemed mismatched.
“It’s crooked,” Lauren said.
“Said the woman in a Mother Goose costume,” Alice fired back.
“Give it up about the costume!” There was something in Lauren’s expression suddenly, Knox realized, something that looked suspiciously like grief, but it was gone in a blink. “Long story,” she finally said.
“Yeah, well, apparently there’s a lot of those floating around,” Alice said, then hesitated, as if seeing the same thing Knox did. “Are you okay?”
“Dandy,” Lauren snapped.
Alice glanced at Knox, then back to Lauren. “I mean, it seems like a nice time for a long story. I love long stories.”
Lauren snorted. “Not a single day in your life.”
“Fine.” Alice tossed up her hands. “But for your information, the scarf’s supposed to be crooked. It gives it a homemade look.”
Lauren opened her mouth to say something, but in the silence, the box on the table with her purse seemed to be . . . vibrating?
“Is that a bomb?” Alice asked.
“Yes, but not the kind you think.” Lauren swallowed hard. “And I’m not talking about it until I have a bag of chips. The mesquite barbeque chips on the kitchen counter.”
“Those are mine,” Alice said. “And you looked at the ingredients and said nothing in there was fit for public consumption, and that you’d die before you touched them.”
Pickle trotted into the room and stopped short in front of the vibrating box. The hair at the scruff of his neck stood straight up and he growled low in his throat.
Lauren moaned and covered her eyes with her hands.
“Seriously,” Knox said. “What’s in there?”
“Chips first!” Lauren yelled and stomped off to the kitchen.
“Quick,” Alice said. “Get your keys, we gotta go.”
Knox blew out a breath. “You ate all the chips, didn’t you?”
“Days ago,” she admitted.
“Just admit it.”
“Are you crazy? You don’t know what she’s like when she’s hangry.”
They heard a muffled scream of frustration from the kitchen, but before they could make a run for it, Lauren was back, looking a little bit like an addict in need of a fix. She pointed at Alice. “I will get even.”
“I’ll get another bag,” Alice promised cajolingly while backing up slowly.
“Now?” Lauren asked hopefully.
“The box first,” Alice said.
Lauren sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I am?”
Lauren moved to the table and looked down at the box like maybe it was a coiled rattlesnake. “It was delivered to my work. It’s Eleanor.”
“What did she do?” Alice asked.
“No,” Lauren said. “It’s Eleanor. In the box.”
Alice just stared at her. Knox joined in on the staring. “Excuse me?”
“Her urn’s in there. We have strict instructions to take her up to Hidden Hills on Ruth’s death date—which is tomorrow, I might add—and scatter her ashes there. I guess it’s where Eleanor and her sister, Ruth, used to go and ice-skate. She’s hoping to haunt Ruth for the rest of eternity.”
Knox found himself speechless.
Alice appeared the same.
“I mean, if it’d been left up to me,” Lauren said, “I’d have set her in the small cemetery on the far northeast corner of the property. I noticed some lovingly tended graves there, and it’s actually quite peaceful. There’s a gorgeous headstone with the name Chester on it. He must have been incredibly important to her.”
Knox smiled, and Alice choked on a laugh.
Lauren narrowed her eyes at them. “What?”
“Chester was Eleanor’s favorite golden retriever,” Alice said. “That area you’re talking about is a pet cemetery, because the dogs she had over the years were the most important things to Eleanor.”
Lauren stared at her. “More important than people?”
“Yep,” Alice said, with actual fondness.
Lauren shook her head. “What I don’t know is why I got the box. We didn’t have a relationship.”
“Look,” Alice said. “I love Eleanor, but she should have done better by you. Not contacting you, even after your dad’s passing, was just wrong.”
Lauren drew a deep breath but didn’t speak.
Knox didn’t understand how Eleanor could have treated Lauren that way. “She never contacted you at all? That’s not cool.”
Lauren bit her lower lip.
“What?” Alice asked her.
“She tried to call me after my dad died. I . . . didn’t pick up.” Lauren grimaced. “I should have. I know that, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was still pretty messed up . . .”
“I understand,” Alice said.
Lauren looked touchingly surprised, and after an awkward beat, changed the subject. “Along with the urn, there’re also some . . . um, personal belongings.”
“And the ticking?” Knox asked, looking at the box.
“Oh, that’s one of those things you’ve got to see for yourself.” Lauren picked up the box and carried it to one of the couches. She sat and put the box on the coffee table in front of her, waiting for them to join her.
Alice sat across from her, the coffee table between them, looking suspicious. Knox remained standing.
Lauren gestured for Alice to open the box.
Alice leaned forward and gingerly flipped it open.
Lauren reached in and pulled out the urn, setting it on the coffee table.
The box was still vibrating.
Alice and Knox leaned in to look at the same time, then recoiled in unison from the sight of a tube of lipstick having a seizure in the box.
Lauren cackled in sheer glee. “Yep. That was worth the price of admission.”
Knox closed his eyes tight, trying hard not to let any thoughts go through his head. He failed. “You realize I can never unsee that, right?”
“Is someone going to turn it off?” Alice finally asked.
“Not it,” Knox said.
Lauren held up her hands. She pointed at Alice. “She’s the one on the clock.”
“Wow,” Alice said. “And we’re all on the clock, remember?”
“We could just let the batteries die,” Knox suggested.
“Oh for godsakes. Give me the damn thing.” Alice yanked the vibrator out and turned it off. “I’m amending the open communication rule. I don’t want to talk about this. Ever. The rule should state we only communicate about things pertaining to the inn’s renovation. Period.”
Knox couldn’t stop staring at it. “I really thought that was her lipstick.”
“You mean you’ve seen it before?” Alice asked, sounding boggled.
“She used to tell me to go get a twenty from her purse.” He grimaced and ran a shaky hand down his face. “I’m officially scarred for life.”
Lauren nodded, looking both grim and grimly amused. “At least we’re even.”