Bree decided against jogging to the gym and drove instead. Thinking of Dad had put her in the mood for lunch with Mom.
She was surprised to find Lanie’s car already at the gym. The nineteen-year-old had turned out to be not so bad once they’d gotten past their awkward beginning. Oh, she was definitely rough around the edges, but she was a hard worker and prompt—she was already at the gym at 6:48 a.m. when she didn’t start until 8:30 a.m.
With some encouragement from Bree, Gil had talked to her about her clothes. She’d told him it was all she had. Her dad had kicked her out of the house, and she was living with her unemployed boyfriend, barely scraping by. She’d even been forced to drop out of the food service classes at the community college. Bree and Thea had come up with some workout attire for her that helped her fit into the atmosphere of the gym. She’d insisted she didn’t want a handout, so they’d counter-insisted she could pay them back when she got a little ahead.
Lanie was a sad case, and her upbringing so different from Bree and Gil’s, it was hard for Bree to imagine what the girl was going through.
Bree expected to be assaulted by the fabulous aroma of Lanie’s homemade granola bars when she walked in the gym—why else would she be there so early?—but no yummy scent greeted her.
In fact, nothing greeted her. No movement. No sound.
An eerie feeling raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
“Lanie?” she called. No answer. And she wasn’t at the snack bar.
Bree made a quick survey of the free-weight, cardio, circuit and group class rooms through the windows. All empty. “Lanie?” she called again, louder this time. Still no answer. All of the offices remained locked.
So Lanie wasn’t here after all. Her car was parked in the same space as yesterday, so perhaps someone had picked her up and she’d left it there all night.
Satisfied with that explanation, Bree headed toward the small library to pick out a spinning DVD. Maybe a ride along the Pacific Coast Highway—something to keep that nice feeling of waking up on Kentucky Lake in her system awhile longer.
She flipped the light on, bringing a startled scream from inside the room, which shook a yelp from Bree in turn.
“Lanie! You scared the wadding out of me!”
The girl had been asleep on the couch and had gone from lying down to an upright position too quickly. She clutched her head, and leaned back, eyes wide with fright, and apparently too shaken to speak.
Bree assessed the situation. A small bag on the floor beside the couch. The workout clothes, folded and obviously being used as a pillow. A light jacket draped across the front of her arms for cover. “Did you sleep here last night?”
Lanie nodded. “Iz and I had a fight. He kicked me out, and this seemed like a better option than sleeping in the car.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal, but Bree noticed the quiver of her chin—a break in her usual demeanor.
“I’m sorry.” Bree sat down beside her. “What are you going to do?”
Lanie shrugged again. “I thought maybe I could stay here. I mean, there are showers and a kitchen.” She looked at Bree, her voice becoming more animated as she talked...more pleading. “I can bake the snacks after hours, and—and clean up, and launder the towels, and wipe down the equipment.”
“Lanie.” Bree shook her head. “You can’t live here. Gil would never go for it.”
Fear flashed in Lanie’s wide eyes. “If you think it’ll make him mad, you won’t tell him I stayed here last night, will you?”
As long as it was only the once, Bree thought it would be okay if her brother didn’t know. “I won’t tell him, but it can’t happen again. Do you have somewhere else you can go? To a friend’s?”
Lanie shook her head.
“Back to live with your dad?”
“No.” The girl was adamant about that one.
“Well, let’s put your stuff in my office for now.” Bree got up and placed the stack of clothes into the open gym bag, her mind spinning for possibilities. “Maybe you could stay with Thea and me until we find someplace else.” She knew she shouldn’t be volunteering that idea until she’d talked with Thea, who was the owner of the house. And all they could offer her would be a couch.
“I don’t want to be in the way.” Lanie slipped the jacket on, then took the bag from Bree and zipped it.
“We’ll figure out something,” Bree assured her as she led the way to her office.
No sooner had she gotten the door open than Lanie grabbed her stomach and cried, “Oh, shit.” Then she leaned over and puked into the trash can by Bree’s desk.
Bree looked on, horrified by this quick turn of events. “Lanie...are you?”
Lanie straightened and wiped a shaky hand down her ashen face. “Pregnant. That’s why Iz kicked me out.”
STELLA COULDN’T GET Lanie off her mind.
Needing someone to talk to other than Gil, Bree had unloaded to Stella about her coworker during lunch. And, although she appreciated her daughter’s kind heart, her own mother’s heart couldn’t keep from worrying about Bree’s plan to give the girl shelter with her and Thea.
A father who kicked her out? A boyfriend who sent her packing as soon as he learned she was pregnant? This was a different type of person than those Bree was used to. What if the boyfriend wanted Lanie back and she’d decided she didn’t want him? Was he the violent type? Abusive?
Stella’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want Bree involved in any of that.
But Lanie needed help. To add insult to injury, the poor girl’s car wouldn’t even start now, which was why Stella was headed to Ollie Perkins’s house to talk with Ray Cyree.
It still seemed strange to Stella, seeing cars on East Main at two o’clock in the afternoon on a Thursday. There had been a time when any traffic here would’ve been limited to pedestrians—the reason being the townspeople had wanted to help Ollie, who was legally blind, keep a bit of his independence after his mother had moved to the nursing home. Everyone had stayed off the street and allowed Ollie to drive his car the three blocks to the nursing home to visit his mom one day a week. Even Sheriff Blaine had looked the other way.
But Ollie had given up driving completely now, the macular degeneration having stolen enough of his eyesight that even walking could be a problem.
Thank God for Ray Cyree, she thought, and Isaiah’s favorite saying followed on its heels: Everything happens for a reason, Stell.
Well, what could possibly be the reason for poor Lanie’s situation?
Ray wasn’t outside when Stella pulled into Ollie’s driveway, but the sawhorses were set up, laden with boards and a power saw. A pile of sawdust beneath served as evidence the man was still hard at work on the renovations.
The hammering was so loud, she doubted anyone could hear her knock on the front door, but she tried anyway. When that didn’t work, she opened the door a crack and stuck her head in.
“Ollie? You home?”
The hammering stopped. “That you, Ms. Stella?” Ray’s familiar voice answered. “C’mon in.”
By that time, she was in, but she was glad he’d made the invitation official.
Ray came from the back of the house, wiping his hands on his faded jeans, his warm smile a pleasant greeting.
“Hi, Ray. How are you?”