“I think I’ll hold on to it, junior,” she said. “If it’s all the same to you.”
He scowled but didn’t press her to give up her protection. “Fine, but at least put it in your pocket. I don’t want it going off accidentally.”
There was something rational and calming about the level tone of his voice, and Dorie decided to trust him that far. Besides, a damp, bitter wind had suddenly swept down from the mountaintop, and she needed both hands to zip up her parka.
Bret turned to his father. “Pop, I think you’d better tell me what’s going on.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Clancy. “Go ahead, tell him, Pop. And while you’re filling your son in with all the details about our recent history, I’m going to be right here listening to every word just so you don’t forget to mention the exact amount of money you owe me.”
* * *
BRET HAD A bad feeling about this. In the forty-eight hours since his father had arrived without notice, nothing suspicious or sinister or even questionable had happened. Bret had allowed himself to ease into a sort of complacent acceptance of Clancy’s appearance even though gut instinct told him to keep his guard up—what he usually did when his dad was in his life. And now this—a woman about as mad as a hen in a hatbox threatening the peace and tranquility he’d come to the mountains to find. Past experience had taught him that this woman’s desperate situation, whatever the details, was probably Clancy’s fault.
He did a quick appraisal of Dorinda Howe. She had guts even if she didn’t have the stature to back them up. At a little over five feet tall, with slim legs encased in a pair of straight jeans and most of the rest of her concealed under a hood and a light parka, she didn’t look capable of tangling with a dragonfly. But looks could be deceiving. And she did come packing mace.
He glanced up at the craggy summit of Hickory Mountain. The sun had slipped toward the valley behind them. In another ten minutes nighttime would descend on the mountainside, and this little patch of land would be about as dark as any place on earth. Bret ought to be putting his tools away and securing the property from bears and raccoons while he still had some daylight. But the normally relaxed ending of his day was obviously not going to happen.
Dorie rubbed one hand up and down her arm while keeping a tense fist near the pocket where she’d put the canister.
“You’re freezing,” Bret said. “And it’s only going to get colder. We’re supposed to dip into the upper twenties tonight.”
“Doesn’t this mountain know it’s the end of March?”
He smiled.
“Whatever. I don’t plan to be here to watch the thermometer drop,” she said through chattering teeth. She glared at Clancy. “My business shouldn’t take long.”
Bret swept his arm toward the building. “Let’s go inside. I turned the furnace off this morning since I knew I’d be outside most of the day, but I can at least start a fire while we wait for the heat to kick on again.”
She studied his face a moment before eyeing the lodge with definite longing, but she didn’t take a step. “I don’t know...”
“Look, you’ll be fine. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of her pocket. “If anything, we’re scared of you.”
She remained still, apparently considering his promise.
“We’ll just get out of the wind while we talk this over. Besides, I don’t know about you, but I could use a cup of coffee.”
She looked one more time at both men before nodding. “Yeah, coffee sounds good. And there’s another thing...”
“Oh?”
She pointed to the lodge he’d been working on all day. “I’m hoping you have modern facilities in there.”
Understanding her concern, he said, “All the comforts of home. Plumbing included.”
She stepped back, clearing a path for Clancy. “You go first. I don’t want you behind me.”
He frowned but moved ahead of her. “And I don’t want that can of pepper spray to come out of your pocket,” he said. He stopped at the door Bret held open and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t try using that stuff on me. My son here used to be a cop.”
As Dorie followed him inside she spared a quick glance at Bret. “A cop, eh? And while you were protecting and serving your community, how many times did you arrest your own father?”
Bret let the door shut behind him. “Never had to.” His lips curled up in a grin. “We always lived in different cities.” He started to recite directions to the bathroom, but stopped when his cell phone rang. “I’ve got to take this. It’s my son, and I don’t always get clear cell service on this mountain.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Anxious as always to hear Luke’s voice, Bret waved Dorie to the hallway bathroom. “Hey, buddy, how’s everything going?”
In a hyper, enthusiastic voice, Luke regaled his father with the latest escapades he’d enjoyed with his cousins.
“Can’t wait for you to get home tomorrow,” Bret said. He hoped his son felt even a small percentage of the longing he himself was experiencing at seeing the boy again. They had been apart almost a week now, and to Bret, that was far too long.
“Me, too, Dad,” Luke said. “But I was wondering why Aunt Julie has to bring me home tomorrow. Why not Sunday? School doesn’t start until the next day.”
Bret hid his disappointment behind parental prerogative, stopping just short of saying, “Because I said so.”
“We talked about this already, Luke. Saturday is the day Aunt Julie can come up here, and Saturday is the day you’re coming home. Okay?”
“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Bret disconnected and stacked logs in the fireplace. He struck a match and blew on the kindling, creating a nice start to a fire. Aware that his father was fiddling with the coffeemaker, he waited to see if Clancy would offer an explanation for Dorie’s accusation. But the only sounds in the room were the crackle of the flames and the hiss of the brewing machine.
Crouched in front of the hearth, Bret turned to his father and said, “I’d really appreciate it if, before she comes out of the bathroom, you’d tell me what you did to that woman.”
Clancy stared at him before taking a seat on a bench at one of the recently assembled wood picnic tables in the center of the all-purpose room. “Why are you assuming I did something to her?” he asked, doing his best to affect a tone of wounded feelings. “Maybe she did something to me. Maybe she showed up here on some crazy vigilante mission, and I’m caught in her crosshairs. Maybe...”
Bret stood, placed his hands on his hips, and fixed his gaze on the entrance to the hallway. “And maybe you owe her money like she said.”
Clancy threw his hands up. “I helped her, that’s what I did! She came into my place looking for a job, and I did her a good turn.”
Dorie stormed into the room, her jacket draped over one arm. “That’s how you’re telling this story? A person could end up homeless because of your good turns, Clancy. In fact, I practically have!”
She marched to the table. Wavy strands of wheat-colored hair fell to her shoulders. She raked her fingers through wispy bangs nearly covering eyes that snapped with blue fury and shoved her other palm under Clancy’s nose. “Give me my money. And don’t