moved one step over and thought again how this game was getting very old. She glanced at him, but he was looking not at the view but behind her, at the apartment. She turned back to the street.
“That’s because it’s temporary.”
And because they were staying away from the luxury homes and condos that would be harder to secure. She pressed a finger to her temple. She could feel the beginnings of a headache.
He wasn’t going away. She needed to deal. She turned to face the only headache she had—Stanley.
“Often the hunters and skiers use this same lodging, but there aren’t many around this time of year. Right now there are a few permanents, or longer stays, I guess you’d call them, and you. But you won’t spend much time in the apartment.”
“I suppose.” He turned his attention back to the apartment. “What channels do I get?”
“No idea,” she said, not caring if she was abrupt. She watched as he went back inside. That was one thing no one had checked, television channels. She knew there would be something wrong with them. Stanley was a complainer. Since the airport, he’d had a list of minor complaints. They ranged from the length of time it took for the luggage pickup, to the hard seats in the rental van. The apartment was no different. It was too small, too little light, too... He was in the kitchen now, running a finger along the counter.
“What’s around here? To do, I mean,” Stanley said a few minutes later as he came up beside her. “Other than great scenery.”
“You didn’t research before you came?” She supposed he’d want to do something other than take pictures, but that wasn’t her problem.
“Yes, but... I thought you might...” He smiled a slightly slick smile, obviously another ploy for her attention.
That was it.
“Have a seat,” she said pushing him toward the couch just off the kitchen. She picked up a couple of brochures she’d seen resting in a small squat bookcase and tossed them at him. “Looks like you have some reading to do.”
The way he didn’t look at them. The way he dangled the brochures between his thumb and forefinger like they were tainted. All of it told her everything.
“You weren’t really needing that information, were you?”
“No,” he said, and blushed.
It was apparent that he’d only wanted a topic of conversation to connect with her. She didn’t have time for conversation. That wasn’t her job.
She turned and went back to the balcony, but made the mistake of looking over her shoulder. She sighed, feeling sorry for him and his rather hangdog expression. “Come here. Check out the view.”
He stood a foot away from her. Unlike last time, this time he looked at the scenery. There was an expression of awe on his face and she wasn’t sure how he could have been so wrapped up in the apartment’s conveniences, or lack thereof, to miss the extraordinary view the first time he’d stood on the balcony. But Stanley appeared to be a man with a one-track mind. He was no multitasker. Now he gazed out at the snow-covered plains and mountains that swept around the city limits seemingly transfixed, like he’d just realized all of this was here. He lifted his camera and snapped a picture then two, three... She lost count. Stanley was finally in his element and she was forgotten. Ten minutes later he put the camera down with a small smile on his face.
“Thank you,” he said. “For picking me up. And putting up with me.”
“It’s what I’m paid for,” she said, trying to inject a touch of humor into the words.
“I suppose.”
“So what’s with the name? Stanley, I mean,” she asked.
He looked at her; his hazel eyes were awash in innocent confusion. At five-eight she almost looked eye to eye with him.
“I mean, it’s a nickname obviously. How’d you get it? Did your parents come up with the name?” She wasn’t overly interested. But it might serve to get to know the man she was supposed to protect just a bit better. Actually, it would help her get to know the man she would be chauffeuring around Wyoming. That was probably a more apt statement.
“No.” He shook his head. “It was a name my older brother gave me. It’s after a cartoon character. I don’t suppose you have the program here. Anyway, I got the name when I was two. The show hasn’t played in years. But at the time, he thought that I looked like the main character.” He shrugged. “Of course, when he gave me the nickname, he was little more than a kid himself.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. How could they have missed the existence of a brother? The file listed no siblings. In fact, the closest relatives listed were an uncle and two first cousins. Then there were only distant relatives listed in order of succession. It was a major oversight, and it had her immediately concerned. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“I don’t,” he said rather sadly. “Not anymore. He died a few years before my mother.” He cleared his throat. “Accident,” he said with a rasp to his voice. “His death destroyed my parents.”
For the first time, her heart went out to him. It was tragic, and he said it so nonchalantly. The hurt in his eyes told her that wasn’t how he felt about the tragedy.
It was interesting how she’d had to tweak the profile she’d established for him. He was annoying but he wasn’t arrogant; instead he had expectations. He was socially awkward, especially around the opposite sex. She wasn’t sure if that was just her. The most surprising had been his compassion. There was a lot she still didn’t know, as the file hadn’t spoken to personality. But what she did know was that he was basically a good egg.
“Don’t hit it!” he’d yelled when she’d swerved for an elk on the way from the airport.
“Oh my goodness,” he’d said after the animal had dodged into the bush. “I’m so glad you did that. That you were able to swerve like that.” He’d taken a slightly strangled breath as if he’d been holding it. “That he lived.”
In that moment, she could have forgiven most of Stanley’s annoying behaviors, at least the ones she’d recently suffered through, when he displayed that kind of compassion for a wild animal. Add in that he was the client, and they were never wrong, and he was in a pretty good place. For the first time she relaxed and smiled at him.
“I’m sorry,” she said in reference to his brother. According to the file, his mother had died twenty-two years ago. His father had died a few years after that of a heart attack. She wondered what else the file might have missed.
“Don’t be,” he said softly. “He had a good life. Just short.”
She looked at him with a frown. It was an odd thing to say about losing a brother, as far as she knew, his only sibling. Since it was accidental, she imagined it had been tragic—definitely sudden. She had questions, but she asked none of them. None of it was relevant to the case.
Instead she mulled over the strangeness of Stanley’s response. Everyone dealt with grief differently, but she was curious. She started to say something and then stopped.
Before she could consider the matter further, there was
