Barefoot Season Part 13

"I know who Carly Williams is."

She raised her eyebrows. "Should I ask how?" Was there a story? Did he and Carly have a past? Before she could decide if she cared, he got up and collected the vodka bottle.

"We live on an island. I know everybody here."

"So you never..."

"Asking about my s.e.x life?"

"One of us should have one."

"No. Not with her."

"Why not?"

"Why don't you like working with Carly?"

Mich.e.l.le watched him pour them each a drink. She took her gla.s.s but only held it. "We used to be friends. A long time ago. It was complicated. Stuff happened and then we were friends again. Then we both met this guy. Allen."

She glanced at Jared, but he didn't say anything.

"I was crazy about him. He was charming and good- looking and I was so lonely. Then I found out he was dating Carly, too, and it broke my heart. I said he had to decide. I was so sure he was going to pick me, but he didn't. I found out later it was because she'd slept with him."

"Why didn't you, if he was so important to you?"

She took a sip. "I was still a virgin. Sleeping with a guy seemed like a big decision. Carly didn't have any worries on that front, so he dumped me for her and then they got engaged."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. It was tough. But the worst part wasn't losing Allen, which should have told me something about how I felt about him. It was losing her. She was still my friend, but every second of every day was about her and that d.a.m.ned wedding. It was like she was rubbing it in my face."

She was aware she was talking too much, sharing details that couldn't possibly interest Jared, but she couldn't seem to stop the flood of words. People said alcohol loosened inhibitions. Vodka had nothing on one of Arnie's pork sandwiches.

"My mother was all over the wedding, which made things harder for me. I had to be the maid of honor. That hurt."

She paused, knowing she didn't want to keep going. But somehow she found herself saying the rest.

"Two days before the wedding, Allen came to me. He said he'd made a mistake-that he'd really been in love with me and that he'd ended things with Carly. He seduced me and I let him and..." She looked out the window. "I was so stupid."

"You were young."

"Not that young. Carly found us and Allen told her it was my fault. That I'd tricked him into bed."

She could still remember him jumping up, still naked. He'd gone to Carly and actually started crying. He'd been so convincing, Mich.e.l.le had nearly believed him herself. Only she'd known the truth. She had a feeling Carly had guessed it, as well, only she hadn't let on. Carly had blamed Mich.e.l.le, as had Brenda.

"I took off that night, drove to Seattle and joined the army. I wanted to be anywhere but here and that seemed like my best option."

"Carly stole him from you and you stole him back. You're even."

She eyed him over her gla.s.s. "Not exactly how I would describe it."

"That doesn't change what happened."

"Maybe not, but now I have to work with her."

"It was a long time ago. You're different people."

"You got that right."

"At least you let yourself come home."

She took a drink. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't come back before. You were punis.h.i.+ng yourself. If you're back now, you're done."

She glared at him. "Where the h.e.l.l do you get off-?"

Her cell phone rang, interrupting her. She was so startled by the sound, she just stared at her phone. No one ever called her. She wasn't even sure why she kept the d.a.m.n thing. She glanced at the screen and saw a Los Angeles number.

She pushed the ignore b.u.t.ton and finished her drink.

"Where was I?" she asked, more to herself than him.

"You were telling me to mind my own business."

"Were you listening?" she asked.

"No."

"Typical guy. You only hear what you want to hear."

"It keeps things simple. You miss your mom?"

"That wasn't a very subtle change of subject." She reached for the vodka bottle.

He poured more for her. "I wasn't trying to be subtle. She died while you were gone. It was recent, wasn't it?"

"A few months ago. Cancer. She went fast. I wasn't here."

"Should you have been?"

"It's considered polite."

"Do I look like I care about polite?"

"No."

"Should you have been here?" he asked again.

"I don't know," she said, admitting the truth. "I feel guilty for not being with her when she died."

"Where were you?"

"In a hospital in Germany, getting part of my hip replaced."

He didn't say anything.

She sighed. "I feel guilty because I'm glad I didn't have to make the decision. No one wants to be a bad person. I just can't figure out what I think about her."

"So don't. She's gone. Move on."

"You're not a very good psychologist."

"I own boats, Mich.e.l.le. Ask me about the tide, the wind or the cost of diesel. I don't know much about anything, but I do know how to listen. So what's the real problem?"

Mich.e.l.le held on tight to her drink. "I slept with my best friend's fiance and I killed a man and I don't know which is worse."

He slid to the end of the bench and stood, then leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "You're going to have to be the one to figure that out, kid. Night."

He walked out of the kitchen, leaving her alone with the night and the bottle. She carefully stood. After tossing the paper bags, she rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher and limped to her bedroom. She left the vodka bottle where it was. For tonight at least, she'd had enough.

Twelve.

Carly circled the dining room with a pot of coffee. Isabella had called in sick and Carly was picking up her s.h.i.+ft as hostess for breakfast. It was a little after nine on Monday morning. Most of their guests were already finished eating and the locals had long ago left for work. Three older ladies sat together, lingering over a map of the town, and Leonard was by the window, typing earnestly on his netbook.

She walked toward him, shaking her head when she saw the still-full plate of eggs in front of him. Leonard was the cla.s.sic absentminded-professor type. She was amazed he managed to get through the day without walking in front of a car or absently tripping off the edge of a cliff.

"Morning, Leonard," she said, pausing by his table.

He glanced up at her, his eyes unfocused. "Oh, hi."

"Did you forget something?"

"What?"

She pointed to his plate. "Breakfast."

He stared at the plate for a second, before glancing back at her. "Right. Food. I need to eat. I was up late, watching the cranes. All the breeding pairs have nested. I have the numbers on nearly all the eggs. We're going to compare birthrates to eggs produced. I'll calculate how many chicks we expect, and then later, when they're hatched, we'll be able to refine our process."

She wondered how long he could talk about his cranes and their chicks, then decided she didn't want to know.

"Leonard? You're still not eating."

"What? Oh. Sorry." He picked up a fork. "Thanks for the reminder."

"You're welcome." She turned over an empty cup and poured in fresh coffee, then picked up the cold one he hadn't touched. "Have a good day."

"I will. I'm very excited to get those last eggs counted."

"Good luck with that."

"Thanks."

She walked away, thinking he was basically a sweet guy. Not for her, but maybe for someone who could appreciate his avian enthusiasm. There was someone for everyone-at least she hoped there was.

She returned the coffee carafe to the stand and surveyed the room. The ladies were gathering their things and getting ready to leave; soon she could head back to the inn.

Before she could make her way back to the kitchen to tell Damaris they were done for the morning, Mich.e.l.le shuffled into the dining room.

Carly instinctively looked for a way to escape. Ducking out would be a whole lot easier than facing her. She still didn't know what to say to her. Their last encounter had been fraught with emotion. It was the only explanation for the other woman blurting out what had happened while she'd been in Afghanistan.

Mich.e.l.le had given her information she didn't know what to do with. Compa.s.sion seemed the most reasonable reaction, but she was talking about someone who'd seriously screwed up her life, not to mention resented her. Life would be a whole lot easier if they could just go their separate ways.

Mich.e.l.le settled at one of the clean tables and dumped several pages in front of her. Carly approached cautiously.

"Coffee?" she asked.

"No, thanks. We have to talk. I spent the weekend going over budgets and projections. Is this a good time?"

As there was only Leonard in the dining room and he was far more interested in his bird reports than anything they might say, she nodded and took the seat opposite.

Mich.e.l.le pa.s.sed her a couple of sheets of paper. "Here's how much we have in the inn's checking account and what is owed to the bank in the short term. We're okay with current payments, but there are six months in arrears and the penalties that go with that."

Carly stared at the numbers and immediately saw the problem. "We can't pay this and cover our expenses, payroll and stay current on the mortgages."

"Exactly. I have some savings. I can pay about half of it back, but we'll have to find the rest. Which means cutting expenses."

"I don't need my raise." She wanted to drag back the words the second she said them. She didn't own the inn-she was an employee. Mich.e.l.le had made that very clear.

"While I appreciate the offer, it's not close to enough, so no. We have to look for other places to save money. Starting with cutting dinner here at the inn. We're in compet.i.tion with some great restaurants in town. From what I can see, dinner is a financial sinkhole."

Carly thought about how quiet the dining room usually was and the evening staff had little to do. "I agree."

"Good. Because that's only a start. We need to let go of about a quarter of the current staff. A third would be better." Mich.e.l.le paused. "I'd like your input on that. You know more about the day-to-day running of the inn."

Carly did her best to keep from looking surprised. "Of course. I'll go over the work schedules and look at how long various jobs are taking. Obviously some things can't be cut, regardless of how slow we get. Someone needs to be at the front desk from early until at least ten or eleven. But there might be ways to share responsibilities. The person on duty in the evening could clear email and send out reservation confirmations. That kind of thing."

"You've been thinking about this," Mich.e.l.le said.

"I knew we had to start saving money. I've been making a list of ways to do that."