Cotton Grass Lodge (2 page)

As they walked in the middle of a narrow road, twelve-foot leafless brush opened to reveal the lodge. An impressive log building fronted by a wide front porch. Carl had explained essentially it was four bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs with the kitchen and open lodge room. The green metal roof sloped from three dormers over the porch. Standing here, Duncan realized he had stayed in places that called a building this size
staff quarters
.

Nell stopped walking, sucked a deep breath, and blew through pursed lips. “My Harry and I built this with our own two hands in the early 1960s. You’re gonna pay me three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and I’m gonna come back and visit any damn time I want to. That’s part of the contract.”

Duncan had considered the price a steal until now. “But I paid cash, and there’s nothing of the sort in the contract.”

“Don’t give a damn how you pay for it. Still gonna be part of the deal. Isn’t your word any good?” Nell smiled at him. “I don’t have to sell, ya know.”

What? He and Carl had signed the papers at a title company before he left Anchorage. Nell had already signed the same papers.

Duncan dropped his voice an octave. “Mrs. Janovich, are you going to back out of the sale?”

“Call me Nell.”

The rumble of the four-wheeler came up behind them, and they moved to the side of the slippery trail. “You want to ride?” Hanna called.

“No. We’ll get there,” Nell hollered over the sound of the four-wheeler’s engine. “Put the kettle on.”

Hanna tossed off a sassy smile and drove on, avoiding the deep ruts threatening the stability of packages on the back of the machine or jostle the ones piled in the small trailer it pulled. He admired the strength and competence of her compact little body. As the noise faded, Duncan went back to business. “Nell, the lodge is sold. You signed the papers.”

“Well, of course I did, a deal is a deal.” Nell started walking again, apparently unaware of the soggy trail or Duncan’s confusion. “Everything you see will go with the place. The four-wheelers, there are four of them. The snow-machines, there are four of those as well, not to mention the ones sitting around for parts.”

She was serious about the sitting around part. Duncan had been too preoccupied with misery to see these things from the air. The remains of at least three snowmobiles peeked out of the receding snow in odd places around the yard. A fluttering blue tarp attested to the condition of the roof of the main building and from this vantage point a small outbuilding behind it as well. A burst of chunky raindrops danced a jig across the yard and stopped just as suddenly.

Nell pointed toward the worn trail running past the lodge. “Out back is the rest of it, a machine shed, a generator shed where we keep the freezers and the water pumps, the garden is fenced, there’s a shed for the garbage and the outhouse. Folks get used to using the sauna instead of a bathtub.”

“What? There isn’t a bath?” Duncan coughed.
She can’t be serious.
Carl said the lodge was a little rough around the edges; he didn’t say anything about primitive.

“The generator’s in good shape. I replaced it two winters ago.” Nell inventoried as they strolled. “The bunkhouse isn’t finished yet, but it could be a good money maker.” Still holding his arm she rotated, and he had to look into her washed out blue eyes. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Duncan swallowed hard and worked the muscles of his jaw. After sixteen years in upscale hotel management, this piece of shit lodge was something he could do in his sleep. A month, tops. He didn’t know why Carl had advised him to take his time. Duncan added a bathtub to his list of things to change.

Chapter 2

As Hanna steered the four-wheeler past Nell and Duncan walking arm in arm, she wasn’t surprised when Nell declined a ride but wondered if he would accept. She conceded that thought was mean.

Damn it, Nell had sold the lodge to Mr. GQ Cover Boy. The man was clueless, he didn’t own a smile, and why didn’t he tell her before they left Anchorage he was the new lodge owner? Outsiders always wanted to change things. She felt like this little piece of paradise would always be here, just waiting for her the way it was, whenever she needed it.

Embarrassment skittered through her chest. She had been unprofessional, not mean. Well, maybe a little mean.

She thought about his clean-shaven impeccability; it was quite nice to look at. Hanna shook her head;
stop thinking about him as if he was a man
. He won’t fit in here at the lake. If he was so darn smart, why didn’t he know it was April? For crying out loud, street shoes, he wasn’t prepared for anything but a night out. The last thing the lake needed was an Outsider’s attempt at spit and polish.

When she got to the lodge, a husky puppy bounded out from under the porch. She slowed the four-wheeler to allow him space to get out of the way before she dismounted. “Hey, you. Stay down.” Her stern warning curbed his enthusiasm. Briefly.

Nell’s old dog, Kobuk, had died in February, and Hanna had come up for a long weekend so she could help bury him. She’d kept a bonfire going for most of two days to thaw the ground enough to dig a hole. Nell had said Hanna didn’t have to, but she’d known how much Nell loved Kobuk.

Hanna had seen Nell cry for the first time, ever, when they gently lowered the aged dog into the grave Hanna had labored over. Even when Nell’s beloved Harry died two years ago, Nell had controlled her tears.

Last year, Nell’s kids wanted her to close the lodge down. They said she could retire and just do guests for the salmon season in the summer, but Nell always said she planned to die at the lodge. Now, this surprise.

Hanna squatted. The puppy launched from his self-imposed
sit-stay
into Hanna’s arms. “Ohh, what a good boy.” She scrubbed him behind the ears and then signaled for him to calm down. His tail drooped only momentarily, and he went back toward the hole under the porch.

Hanna took an arm full of bags and went up the steps into the lodge. Its cozy dimness couldn’t hide scattered stacks of newspapers and the smell of sour garbage. She put the groceries on a counter in the pantry and then set the kettle on the stove. She quickly replaced the over flowing garbage bag with a new one, and when she took it to the back porch, she was sad to see three others in a pile. Not a good habit to get into in bear country. Nell was getting tired, but now spring had come, surely Nell would get more observant.

When she came back out onto the porch Duncan and Nell were talking at the foot of the steps. “When did you decide to get another dog?” Hanna called to Nell.

“I didn’t. The Shaman brought him a couple of weeks ago. He said I needed this dog.” Nell shrugged.

“The Shaman?” Duncan asked.

Hanna skipped down the steps. “Uh—just a local.” She hoped to avoid talking about the weird little man. She gathered two bags, one plastic and one canvas with C.G. stenciled on it. “What did you name the puppy?”

“I haven’t yet.” Nell turned to Duncan, “He’s your dog now; you name him. He’s young. He’ll get easier to handle as he grows up. Him and the cat go with the place, too. I’m gonna do some traveling, so they can’t come with me. Maybe I’ll get ’em when I get back.”

Duncan closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t want any animals left here. I don’t much like cats, and I’ve never had a dog.”

“They stay.” Nell moved purposefully toward the cart and picked up a bag of groceries.

A tiny current rippled across Duncan’s jaw, and he picked up a box from the trailer. “Let’s get these inside.”

Hanna watched the man carry packages up the steps of the lodge and wondered about the slight limp. It hadn’t been apparent until now, but there was something about how he walked suggesting a deeper pain. It wasn’t just cold feet. He covered it with a well-rehearsed swagger, but it was there just the same. It didn’t affect his broad shoulders, she was pleased to notice. She looked across the lake and took in the dreary, gray afternoon.

When he got to where she stood on the porch, she looked up into his green eyes. A quick shock of some unnamed emotion tingled her lips and worse, the fullness of her breasts. “Are you going back this afternoon? I’ll need to start back no later than an hour from now.”

Nell answered for him, “No, he’s stayin’ the night.”

“I am?” Duncan faced Nell as she came up the last step and joined them on the porch.

“You have to know what you’re getting yourself into.” Nell gestured grandly around her, “This lodge ain’t just a pretty face.” She turned to Hanna. “If you need to get back, go. If not, stay the night. You know you’re welcome.”

“It would save me gas and a return trip if Mr. Mahoney decides to leave tomorrow.” Hanna looked at Duncan. “Of course, if this isn’t what you thought it would be, you can get out of the deal. I could take you back right now. There’s plenty of daylight. It wouldn’t be the first time someone got off the plane and didn’t wait for the luggage to be unloaded to decide to leave.” He wasn’t the kind to ever fit in. And he was handsome, too handsome. Which meant cocky and arrogant.

“I’m going to stay.”

Hanna stared for just a moment too long at the place where muscles flicked over his square, clean-shaven jaw. His resolve surprised her.

The screaming teakettle echoed from deep in the house. Hanna held the door for Duncan and then led the way into the dingy kitchen.

Ten minutes later Hanna had stowed away the last of the groceries. After living at the lake for so many years, she worked as easily in the lodge kitchen as she did in her own. She sat at the table and watched Duncan’s hands.

He carefully folded a paper napkin to contain a drip sliding down the side of his cup. Oblivious to the debris of coffee smudges and crumbs marring the eight-foot trestle table. He was clean and slick; she would even venture to say, manicured. His face seemed too thin for the structure of his head, as if he needed a good meal to fill out the angles. Dark hair accentuated his pasty skin. He was attentive to Nell as they talked business, so Hanna kept her mind on the prospect of a new neighbor. Damn it, she had to admit, after six years on the lake, she wanted to keep things the same. Over-confident Outsiders brought conflict no one needed.

Hanna finished her coffee. “I hate to interrupt, but I’m going to my cabin. Can I use a four-wheeler? I’ve got a few groceries and gas for my generator.”

“Anytime.” Nell shifted in her chair toward Duncan. “There’s another thing ya gotta learn. Up here at the lake most of the neighbors look out for each other, so if Hanna needs to use a four-wheeler to get home, she don’t have to ask. She’s just polite.” Nell turned to Hanna. “Aren’t you gonna stay for supper?”

“No, thanks,” Hanna said. “I think you two have a lot to talk about. I’ll see you tomorrow. I haven’t been here in a couple of weeks, and I have to tie the plane down, too.” She stood and stuck her hand out to Duncan. “Well, Mr. GQ Cover boy, you bought the lodge, so I’ll have to start being nice to the new neighbor.”

His eyes narrowed sharply. “GQ what?”

“Cover Boy.” She hoped her smile mitigated her name calling. “Get some boots.” His handshake was professional-standard firm, but Hanna was unprepared for the determination she felt flow from his soft hand. His green eyes connected with hers again, and even after he released her hand, the warmth lingered against her palm.
Oh, get a grip. You don’t need a man complication.
She’d let one round of infatuation get out of hand. The pain of her first folly wasn’t going to happen again. Her ex-husband had been almost as good looking as Duncan Mahoney.

“By the way,” Nell said, “I’ve been watching for bear tracks. It’s early, but you can take the rifle if you want to.” She pointed to a 30.06 hanging from a peg in the corner by the front door.

“I’m good. Thanks.” Hanna patted her brown Carhartt jacket under her arm where the .357 was holstered.

“Damn noise maker.” Nell cocked an eyebrow at Duncan. “You shoot a gun, don’t you?”

“Uhh, yeah, I guess so.”

Hanna smiled self-righteously. She didn’t think skeet counted as shooting. She left Nell to her lecture.
Welcome to Cotton Grass Lake, Mr. GQ Cover Boy.
She’d heard the lecture before, a multitude of times. She made a detour out the back porch and put the garbage in the shed. Then she walked around to the front where the eager puppy assaulted her again. “Come on, Nameless, earn your keep by protecting me from the bears.” Hanna unhooked the trailer, scooped up the squirming puppy, and balanced him on the back of the four-wheeler. She cooed and petted for a minute, enjoying the pup. It was nice.

This guy’s gonna try to make lots of changes.
She maneuvered the four-wheeler down the rutted trail back to the gravel strip. He wouldn’t be the first one to come to Alaska with the idea his changes would be good for the backward and uninformed locals. She wondered who would be transformed first.

Hanna kept one hand on the blue bandana collar tied around the puppy’s neck to steady him. He was a little unsure of this experience, and when she stopped the four-wheeler, he was happy to leap off the machine, landing in a scruffy heap.

The lodge had four tie downs on one end of the strip. The holes had been dug by hand and filled with concrete. Bent rebar stuck out of each to hold the tie-down ropes of the various planes stopping or spending the night. Frayed remnants of poly cord fluttered like multi-colored confetti from each metal loop.

Close by on the shore lay a jumble of fifty-five gallon steel drums and gray weather-washed two by sixes. The make-shift dock had been hauled out of the lake in September just before freeze-up. The beached dock was still covered in odd places by what was left of the winter’s snow. In May the lake ice would thin and disappear almost overnight. Hanna could hardly wait.