He grasped the handle of his coffee mug and took a sip, hoping the pause would allow the topic to fade away. “Are you renting a place?”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Not yet.” She evaded his gaze.
He swallowed his next question, knowing it was too soon to ask and definitely bad timing.
“I need to find a place to stay. Do you know anyone who has a flat around here? Shirley told me you knew what was happening in town.” Her questioning expression turned him upside down.
Had she read about his job in the paper? If so, she’d certainly mention it. The image of his boathouse apartment flashed in his eyes and he bit his tongue to control the offer, sensing it was a bad idea. He’d already come on too fast. “Not offhand, but I’ll keep my ears open.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
He fiddled with his paper napkin, hounded by the desire to be honest about his job opening with room and board, but if she said no, then he would wish he had waited. She’d just started the job with Bernie and he really didn’t know her at all. He liked her, that was true, but could she handle Gary? He wanted to do what was best for his son. He’d be wise to give himself time to know her better.
When Nick refocused, Rona eyed her watch.
“Time’s up.” She looked disappointed as she slipped her mug onto the empty muffin plate. “I’d better get back to work before Bernie fires me on my second day.”
Nick managed a grin, but had to fight from praying for that exact thing to happen.
Rona settled into the easy chair, snapped on her bedside lamp and pulled the newspaper from the table. She needed to find a place to rent. This motel situation would drive her mad. The past four days these cramped quarters had felt like a jail cell. The thought prickled up her arms.
Jail. Prisoner. The words jarred her and she thought of her brother. Would Don find her? He would be paroled some time this month, and though he was her brother, she wanted no part of him. He’d nearly ruined her life.
She spread the newspaper on her lap, but before she could focus, the alien jangle of her cell phone jarred her. The cell had been meant for emergencies. She hadn’t given the number to her father, only a friend who promised to let her know if anything went wrong at home.
Rona closed the paper and dug into her bag. The irritating jingle continued as she gazed at the number without recognition. She said hello, and as soon as she heard the voice, she remembered. She’d given her number to Mrs. Bailey.
“I baked cookies today. Chocolate chip and peanut butter. I wanted to make sure I had something you’d like.”
“I love them both, Mrs. Bailey,” Rona said, hearing pleasure in the elderly woman’s voice.
“Would you like to come over for a visit? I’d love your company.”
Again? She’d only been there last night. She eyed the newspaper, feeling guilty, but knowing she didn’t want to give the older woman false hope of being a constant companion. Though she was pushing forty, Rona wanted to live a little before ending her social life.
“I have some things to do tonight, but how about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
Rona heard disappointment in the woman’s voice.
“All right, then.” She paused as if grasping for another comment. “I’ll make tea tomorrow.”
“Tea sound wonderful, and I know the cookies will be as good tomorrow as today.”
She heard hesitation in Mrs. Bailey’s voice, but she must have accepted her excuse. “I’ll be waiting,” the woman said, her cheery voice zapping Rona with sadness as they said goodbye.
Rona fell back against the chair, wishing she didn’t feel so guilty. That could be me one day, she thought. Lonely. Alone. Mrs. Bailey and she had that in common. Yet the older woman had enjoyed a full life with a husband she loved. Rona had life to look forward to if she could stop running and settle somewhere safe, somewhere she felt free.
Pulling herself from her reverie, Rona unfolded the small newspaper again and flipped through the pages until she found the rental ads. She read the few entries, disappointed. Most of them offered cabins by the month or week. The only other ad she saw wasn’t what she wanted. She had no desire to rent a house. A flat or apartment would serve her purpose well.
She turned the paper over to the Help Wanted ads and scanned the page. She didn’t see Nick’s ad for a housekeeper. Why hadn’t he asked her? She’d given him every opportunity. He’d probably found a woman already. The possibility weighted her shoulders. Living on an island would have been wonderful—a beautiful setting, room and board, and a paycheck. What more could she want?
And, best of all, Don would have a difficult time finding her, or at least getting to her. He loved to ride into her life like a knight with all kinds of promises and then leave her eating dust.
Dust. Rona licked her dry lips and realized she needed something to drink. She rose and reached for the cooler, pulled out an orange pop and nabbed the potato chip bag.
When she settled back, she picked up the newspaper again to read the local news. She wanted to become familiar with the town she’d chosen to live in. As she placed her thumb on the edge of the daily paper to turn the page, Nick’s ad lay just below her finger. How had she missed it earlier? Her pulse rose as did her hopes. Maybe Nick thought she wouldn’t be interested so he hadn’t offered her the job. Rather than second-guessing, she could just apply and get it over with. If he said no, she would just have to deal with it.
Then reality smacked her between the eyes. Nick knew she wanted a better job. He knew she needed a place to stay, but he hadn’t offered her the position. He could have asked. Nothing had stopped him, except his own choice.
Nick hadn’t given her a thought.
Chapter Four
Nick closed his car door and stood outside waiting to hit the remote while Gary sulked inside the SUV. Last night Gary had mentioned he might get home late from school again today, and, certain that his son planned to get away with something else, Nick had met him at the end of the school day, and this time insisted he go home with him.
Yesterday, he’d tried to control his frustration and broached the subject about Gary’s overnight stay at Phil’s and set down some rules. Gary only shrugged and blew him off. Rather than fight, Nick decided to give the situation thought and prayer. Today, he hoped to move a mountain.
“You can play the silent game with me,” Nick said when Gary finally dragged himself from the passenger seat, “but we really need to talk.”
With a half glance, Gary slammed the door and strutted past him. “Talk.”
“I have been. Now it’s your turn.”
Gary dug his hands into his pockets and kicked at the tufts of broad-leaved grass as they headed toward the lake. The progress they’d made earlier that morning had faded.
Disappointed, Nick looked at the stretch of water and knew talking was impossible over the
