time with them is definitely taking a walk on the wild side.”
“They’re not so bad.”
“Ha. Mrs. Gardiner refuses to have them both in her preschool class this fall. She claims they get into eight times as much trouble when they’re together. It’s true, of course, but apparently it’s the first time she’s ever refused a student.”
“She isn’t as young as she used to be. As for the portraits, you’re welcome to ask Jake to participate if you want to, but I prefer being left out of it. I...uh, don’t want things to be awkward if he says no. You know, since he’s living in the lodge.”
Dealing with Jake would be tough enough without offending his artistic pride, and Hannah already had reason to think he was a snob when it came to his work. He’d called taking photos of the Cascades “fluff.” Not to mention describing them as commonplace and boring—it was like saying anyone who lived here was commonplace and boring.
She couldn’t imagine he’d explored the Cascade Mountains enough to know much about them. He’d just assumed that because they’d been well photographed, they weren’t worth his precious time. Yet in her opinion, nobody had ever captured their unique spirit. However much she disliked Jake, he was a great photographer—if he wanted, he could do something amazing.
“I might approach him with the idea,” Gwen said thoughtfully. “If only to make Randy jealous.”
“I didn’t think he got jealous.”
“He doesn’t. And it’s kind of annoying.”
Hannah shook her head. Gwen and Randy Westfield were the most mismatched couple she could imagine—and absolutely devoted to each other. Gwen was a willowy brunette beauty, while her husband was four inches shorter, stocky, sandy-haired and pleasant looking, rather than handsome. They had a wonderful marriage, with Randy gently amused at his wife’s flights of fancy and Gwen gamely accepting the uncertainties of life with a husband in a high-risk job.
Hannah didn’t think she could do it herself, but Gwen was proud of Randy and did everything possible to support his work. Of course, there was a big difference between someone who risked his life helping others, and someone who was just looking for an adrenaline rush like Collin and Jake Hollister.
“You wouldn’t change a hair on Randy’s balding head, and you know it,” she said, pushing the thought away. She didn’t actually know Jake was an adrenaline junkie, though the articles she’d read about him had suggested he had a near-death wish.
Gwen gave her a happy smile. “Nope, but it’s fun to tease.”
They went on making plans for the social, but Hannah’s mind was only partly on the discussion. Jake had gone back into Huckleberry Lodge and Danny was throwing a stick for Badger to retrieve. He looked up and she motioned for him to come inside.
A minute later the door opened and Badger came bounding in ahead of Danny.
“Danny, what did I tell you about leaving Mr. Hollister alone?” Hannah asked him.
“It’s okay, Mommy, he talked to me first. I brought him a loaf of bread and he gave me five dollars to thank us.” He handed her a bill. “Um, Badger and me are real hungry. Can we have a cheese sandwich? Please?”
Hannah put the money in her pocket. “It’ll have to be cheese and apples since you gave Mr. Hollister our bread. Please talk to me before selling any more food to him. I’ll fix lunch later.” She gave Danny a plate of apple quarters and sliced cheese and returned to the dining room. “Can I get you anything, Gwen?”
“I’m fine. Randy asked if your mother is bringing her peach cobbler to the social. It’s his favorite.”
“Yes, and she’s making vanilla ice cream.”
“He’ll be thrilled. He says it’s even better than his mom makes.” She looked at her watch. “Oops, better go. The babysitter can only take the boys in limited doses.”
When Gwen had gone, Hannah sat down and looked at her list. She needed to go shopping, but it would have to wait. Being out of bread wasn’t a big deal, and at least she now knew what had happened to the loaf in the garage freezer.
She was pretty sure the leftover Thai chicken she’d cooked on Tuesday had also traveled over to Huckleberry Lodge, thanks to Danny’s generous heart. The plastic container was nowhere to be found, and her son was still at the age where he asked for food instead of trolling through the refrigerator like a hungry vacuum cleaner. However, he was capable of deciding to bring leftovers to their neighbor.
She’d considered speaking to Danny about it, but she liked that he was concerned for other people’s well-being—even obnoxious photographers.
* * *
JAKE DROPPED TWO slices of the bread Danny Nolan had brought him into the toaster. Maybe he should have talked to Hannah before accepting it, but Danny had said it was okay. Besides, he’d given the youngster money, making him promise to get the cash to his mother.
When Hannah came over later he’d have to ask if she would take care of grocery shopping for him. Though considering her reaction when he’d teased her about doing his laundry, the answer would probably be no.
It was nice that Danny wasn’t proving to be the problem Jake had expected. He’d encountered kids in his travels, of course. They were fascinated that a captured image could be seen instantly with the digital equipment he favored. Josie, on the other hand, despised the new technology, saying the old cameras and film were the true art. Jake didn’t agree; it was simply a different kind of art. Still, he had to admit it was a pain having to recharge his camera batteries, especially in the remote parts of the world where he preferred working. He had a solar-powered charger, modified for his particular needs, but it wasn’t as convenient as plugging into an electric outlet.
Well...Toby had taken care of charging batteries and shuffling equipment the past eight years. Working without him was going to mean changes; the question was whether to replace Toby or go solo again. Solo was probably best; he could never replace Toby, with all his cursing and complaining and unquestioned loyalty.
The toaster popped, and Jake smeared butter on both slices of bread. He sprinkled sugar and cinnamon over the top, only to hear the front doorbell ring before he could take a bite.
Frowning, he limped toward the front door. He’d told Hannah she could come in without knocking or ringing, though he didn’t really expect her to do it. Jake opened the door, but instead of his landlady, he saw a broad-shouldered man holding an athletic bag with Lower Mahalaton Rehab Center emblazoned on the side.
“Mr. Hollister? I’m Owen Kershaw, your physical therapist, here for our eleven o’clock appointment.”
Crap.
Jake belatedly remembered his first rehab session was that morning. He was tempted to say he didn’t feel like company, but he’d never get better if he didn’t work his ass off.
“Uh, hello. Please call me Jake.”
Owen didn’t try shaking hands, he marched in with his bag and a folding table and motioned toward the kitchen. “I noticed a room with lots of windows on that side of the house. Is there enough space to work in there?”
“Probably.”
