Twice in a Blue Moon Read Online Free Page B

for the worst, she opened the door.
    Encouraged by a faint whiff of stale Lysol, she walked down the long hall, opening doors as she went. The first on the left revealed an abandoned office with windows that looked onto the parking lot. The next door was to a long room. Empty barrels and equipment littered the floor. Behind the door on the right stood the industrial washer and dryer, the deep working-man’s sink between them.
    The next room on the right was the manager’s living quarters, and their home until the cabin was shoveled out.
    She opened the door and sniffed. “It’s safe, Barney. Come on in.” Set up like a room in one of those extended-stay hotels, the apartment had a small kitchen area on the right, a two-person dining table to the left, and a neatly made double bed before her. Crossing the room, she turned left to check out the bathroom. The shower/tub combo, sink and toilet all gleamed.
    Thank God the cleaning crew didn’t quit too.
    Problems lay tangled in her mind like huge piles of string. She had no idea where to begin unknotting them.
    First things first.
    A short while later, on her last trip to the car unloading what she and Barney would need for the night, the repairman found her in the hall.
    â€œI’ve cobbled together a temporary fix, ma’am, but frankly, your whole system is held together with bubble gum and cat hair.” He squatted to pat Barney. “It’ll need to be replaced.”
    â€œThe whole thing?’ The taxi meter in her head whirred.
    â€œWell, some of the duct work could probably be salvaged.” Head down, he studiously petted an adoring Barney, whose tail whopped the metal doorjamb with a hollow bong.
    She didn’t want to know. “How much?”
    He named a figure that stole her breath, and a considerable chunk of the business savings account. But you couldn’t make wine without a consistent temperature. Even she knew that. Should she call another company for a second quote? She bit her lip. Businesses would be closed by now. Tomorrow might be too late.
    Bong. Bong. Bong.
    â€œJeez, Barney.” She grabbed his collar and pulled the little traitor away from the door. He’d always liked men better.
    What to do? Nothing had gone right since she’d stepped foot on the property. She’d known when she took this path that she’d have to trust in her intuition, but she hadn’t known that the weight of responsibility would be so heavy. It smothered her last flicker of energy. She looked up at the repairman’s young, guileless face. Surely she could trust a face like that. “How long will it take?”
    â€œWe don’t have a unit that large in stock. I’ll need to order one. Should take a week to ten days to get here.”
    â€œWill the cat hair hold out?”
    He smiled. “If it doesn’t, you call me. I’ll keep it running until then, no charge.”
    He should. The price he quoted for labor alone would send his kid to college for a year. What would Harry do? A chill wind filled the place in her chest where Harry used to be, howling around the cracks in her cobbled-together life. She crossed her arms to cover the void and chose the easier option. “Yeah, okay, order the parts.”
    She followed him out, locked up behind them, then returned to the manager’s quarters. The bed beckoned. She longed to fall onto it, curl into a fetal ball and welcome sleep’s respite. Instead, after a long, lingering look, she set up her laptop on the kitchen table and fired it up, then wandered into the kitchen area to find a bowl for Barney’s food. Her stomach growled, but the shelves and drawers revealed only dime-store dishes, bent-tined silverware and a few pots and pans. The fridge was empty save a box of baking soda that sure hadn’t been put there by the manager.
    She poured Barney’s food into a chipped cereal bowl with Mickey Mouse tap dancing around the rim.