Cover of Night Read Free Page B

without one. The thought made her stomach clench, but she had to raise them alone, discipline them alone, and keep them safe while somehow molding them into responsible human beings. If she let herself think too much about it, the long years stretching before her, she would almost drown in panic. Derek wasn’t here. She had to do it by herself.
    Mr. Harris cautiously backed out of the cabinet and looked up at her as if gauging whether or not it was safe to speak now. Evidently deciding it was, he cleared his throat. “Ah…the leak is no problem; it’s just a loose fitting.” Blood was climbing in his face as he spoke, and he quickly looked down at the pipe wrench in his hand.
    She blew out a relieved breath and went toward the door. “Thank God. Let me get my purse and pay you.”
    “No charge,” he mumbled. “All I did was tighten it.”
    Surprised, she stopped in her tracks. “But your time is worth something—”
    “It didn’t take a minute.”
    “A lawyer would charge an hour for that minute,” Sherry observed, looking oddly amused.
    Mr. Harris muttered something under his breath that Cate didn’t catch, but Sherry evidently did because she grinned. Cate wondered what was so funny but didn’t have time to pursue the matter. “At least let me get you a cup of coffee, on the house.”
    He said something that sounded like “thank you,” though it could have been “don’t bother.” Assuming it was the former, she went into the dining room and poured coffee into a large take-out cup, then snapped a plastic lid in place. Two more men came up to pay their bills; one she knew, one she didn’t, but that wasn’t unusual during hunting season. She took their money, surveyed the remaining customers, who all seemed to be doing okay, and carried the coffee back into the kitchen.
    Mr. Harris was squatting down, restoring order to his toolbox. Cate flushed with guilt. “I’m so sorry. I told them to leave your tools alone, but—” She gave a one-shouldered shrug of frustration, then extended the coffee to him.
    “No harm,” he said as he took the cup, his rough, grease-stained fingers wrapping around the polystyrene. He ducked his head. “I like their company.”
    “And they love yours,” she said drily. “I’ll go up now and check on them. Thank you again, Mr. Harris.”
    “It hasn’t been fifteen minutes yet,” Sherry said, checking the clock.
    Cate grinned. “I know. But they can’t tell time, so what does a few minutes matter? Will you watch the cash register for a few minutes? Everything looked okay in the dining room, no one needed coffee; so there’s nothing to do until someone leaves.”
    “Got it,” said Sherry, and Cate left the kitchen by the hall door, climbing the long, steep flight of stairs.
    She had chosen the two front bedrooms for herself and the twins, saving the best views for the paying guests. Both stairs and hallway were carpeted, so her steps were silent as she turned to the right at the top of the stairs. Their door was open, she saw, but she didn’t hear their voices. She smiled; that was good.
    Stopping in the doorway, she watched them for a minute. Tucker was sitting in the naughty chair, his head down and his lower lip protruding as he picked at his fingernails. Tanner sat on the floor, pushing a toy car up an incline he’d made by propping one of their storybooks against his leg, and making motor noises under his breath.
    Her heart squeezed as a memory flooded her. Their first birthday, just a few months after Derek’s death, had brought them an avalanche of toys. She had never made motor noises to them; they were just learning how to walk, and their toys were soft, plush animals, or something to bang, or educational toys she was using to teach them words and coordination. They had been too young when Derek died for him to have played cars with them, and she knew her dad hadn’t either. Her brother, who might have, lived in Sacramento and she had seen him only