smiled sweetly. “I’m afraid not. You have a top-of-the-line washing machine and dryer in the laundry room for that—I realize it probably doesn’t measure up to pounding clothes on rocks and rinsing them in a cold river, but it will have to do. I’ll see you on Friday.”
As the door closed behind her, Jake began to laugh.
* * *
HANNAH DUMPED JAKE Hollister’s sheets and towels on the floor of her laundry room and gave them a kick. Jackass. He’d baited her, but that wasn’t the problem. It was his attitude about the Cascades she found truly infuriating.
If he acted that way in other parts of the world, he’d probably start a war one day. Actually, she was surprised he hadn’t started one already.
Hadn’t anyone ever told him he shouldn’t insult someone’s home? It was akin to telling somebody their baby was ugly, or that they were an idiot for choosing to live in a certain place.
She loved Mahalaton Lake and having her parents a few miles away. It was great to know people on the street and be a part of their lives. She felt connected here. As a teenager she’d thought about leaving, but not any longer. Yet apparently Jake Hollister was always thinking about the next place he was going.
Hannah loaded the towels into the washer. It was a good thing she was getting so much for renting the lodge. When Lillian had told her what Jake had offered, it had seemed absurdly high, but it made more sense now. With his appalling manners, greasing the wheels with money was probably the only way he could survive.
At least she wouldn’t have to send Danny to her parents the next time she cleaned. It had hurt seeing the crushed expression on his face when he’d learned he wouldn’t be “helping” in the big house. In the way children could instantly form a liking for someone, he had decided Jake Hollister was a kindred spirit. Even Jake’s rudeness hadn’t changed how he felt.
Hannah put detergent in the washing machine and started it. Her parents would soon be back with Danny and she wanted to fix them a meal.
Determinedly putting obnoxious photographers out of her mind, she began chopping vegetables.
Two hours later the scent of garlic and other spices filled the air and she was in better sprits. The front door opened and she heard Danny call, “Hi, Mommy!”
“Hi. Did you have a good time?”
“The best! We went to the zoo and saw the polar bears, just like the ones Mr. Hollister takes pictures of.”
Her dad kissed her forehead. “Smells wonderful, sweetheart.”
“It’s Thai chicken. You and I will have to spice it up with chili garlic sauce since I made it mild for the wimps.”
“I heard that,” her mom called from the other room.
Hannah grinned.
“How was Mr. Hollister?” her father asked.
Her grin faded. “Fine, as far as I could tell. But he’s a slob. No wonder he wanted someone to clean house. What a mess—jam dripping onto the kitchen floor, things thrown about, Great-Aunt Elkie’s books all over the living room.”
Hannah’s mother hurried in, frowning. “Has he done any damage to the lodge or furnishings?”
“Not as far as I could tell. Honestly, though, I think the only things he’s eaten since getting here are Luigi’s pizza and peanut butter. Cold pizza, most of the time.”
“Pizza is yummy,” Danny said.
“I know, darling. But once a week is enough. That way it stays a treat. And we like it nice and hot, not cold and stale.”
“Uh-huh. Poor Mr. Hollister.”
Hannah nearly choked.
She did not feel sorry for Jake Hollister. He seemed to delight in annoying her and she’d be lucky to get through a month without him finding out how loudly she could shriek.
* * *
JAKE WAS FIXING a peanut-butter sandwich when an ambrosial smell invaded Huckleberry Lodge. He went into the sunroom and looked out the windows he’d left open. A blue SUV was parked in the driveway and he wondered if another boring suitor had arrived to court Hannah.
But it was the fragrance coming from the guesthouse that commanded most of his attention. He sniffed—lemongrass, coconut, garlic...it was as if he’d died and gone to heaven. Whatever Hannah was preparing reminded him of dishes he’d eaten in Southeast Asia and beat the hell out of another peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.
PB&J, he reminded himself.
And he could well imagine what his stubborn landlady would say if he tried to wrangle an invitation to dinner. Something sharp and pithy, no doubt. Perhaps he shouldn’t have teased her so much—if her cooking tasted as good as it smelled, it would have been worth holding his tongue for a taste.
Paying for additional services—cooking and laundry and grocery shopping—was another possibility. If he’d thought of it earlier, he might be eating something more interesting than a sandwich for dinner.
Danny, the little boy, came out on the large deck of the guesthouse. He saw Jake and began waving.
Jake waved back halfheartedly, expecting the child to take it as an invitation and come barreling over to chatter his head off. Instead Danny settled down on a chair, head bent, looking at something, with his dog next to him.
Making a face, Jake closed the windows and returned to his sandwich. The bread was getting stale and he’d used the same knife to spread the peanut butter as he’d used on the pizza earlier, so everything tasted vaguely of pepperoni. As he’d told Hannah, he’d eaten much worse in the far-flung corners of the world, but then it had been spiced with exotic scenery and anticipation of the next great photo.
A year, he thought dismally.
That was how long the doctors had said it would take for him to recover and be able to work and travel the way he’d always worked and traveled. If he pushed himself too soon, he risked permanent disability.
Not that he had to stay in Mahalaton Lake the whole time, but it was the best way to photographically capture all four seasons for the book he’d agreed to do. So that meant a year of peanut butter and pizza and a feisty landlady with a small child. Hannah might be fun to tease and a treat to look at, but he’d rarely slept two months in the same bed, much less a year.
And since lovely Hannah was off-limits—obviously not being interested in brief liaisons—he had little to look forward to in that area, either...other than frustration and cold showers.
“THAT SOUNDS GOOD,” Hannah said to Gwen Westfield as she scribbled notes on a pad.
They were planning the upcoming ice cream social fund-raiser for the Mahalaton Rescue Squad, one of several fund-raisers held annually for the squad. The local community enjoyed the events, but they were also geared to bring in tourist
