Hearts Inn Page 10

  After a day trip to Albuquerque to test mattresses while Susan covered the desk, Rosalie charged a mattress to the hotel and set up delivery for the next day. It was delivered midmorning, just when the sun was starting to get hot.

  The drivers unloaded the mattress hastily, leaving it in its plastic wrapping against the wall in Rosalie’s room. The drivers seemed eager to leave, saying they couldn’t take the old mattress or even move it off the box spring: company policy. Rosalie rolled her eyes, thinking liability issues were often a ready scapegoat for unwillingness to help. She was glad Alex was on site reinforcing the banister of the stairs leading to the second story of the hotel. Alex would help her move the mattress, liability issues be damned.

  Rosalie wandered around the building to find Alex had finished the banister and was organizing the storage shed. She’d managed to tidy and organize it from the dangerous jumble Rosalie had waded through weeks before to find the fuse box.

  “Looks good,” Rosalie said, smiling to encourage Alex.

  Alex looked up and gave only a gentle nod of acknowledgment.

  “I just had a new mattress dropped off.” Rosalie pointed her thumb back toward her room. “Can you help me move it? They wouldn’t take the old one.”

  “Sure,” Alex said, wiping her upper lip with her wrist. She followed Rosalie back toward Rosalie’s room.

  “How’s it going?” Alex asked.

  It was so unusual for Alex to initiate conversation, Rosalie was pleasantly taken aback.

  “It’s okay,” she said with a halfhearted smile. “I keep getting weird calls about the Cocheta Way property. I called Gran’s lawyer, and he didn’t know anything about it. Maybe another Campbell owns it, and they’ve got the wrong number.”

  Rosalie opened her door and led Alex inside.

  “Maybe,” Alex said, looking around, gauging the best way to maneuver the old mattress out and put the new one in its place. She crouched beside the bed, sliding her hands under the edge of the old mattress.

  “I’m gonna lift it and you hold the opposite edge in place until it’s vertical. We’ll walk it out together. Can you lift half?”

  Rosalie may not have been as strong as Alex, but she was no weakling.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” Alex said, a stiff smile crossing her face. “One, two, three.”

  Maintaining eye contact with Rosalie, she heaved the mattress up. Rosalie used her knees and hands to keep her edge from sliding off. When it was upright, Alex maneuvered to the bottom, sliding it across the box spring toward the door. Rosalie waited until the head end slid a little farther down before gripping it, helping Alex walk the mattress outside into the blinding light and parching heat.

  Rosalie assumed they’d lean the mattress against the exterior wall, but Alex kept walking.

  “Let’s walk it around back.”

  Rosalie nodded, already feeling short of breath from the exertion. She struggled to keep up with Alex, but in a minute’s time, they’d dropped the old, sagging mattress against the back stucco wall no one ever saw, save for Rosalie, the small gray cat, and the occasional coyote.

  Wiping their hands, they walked back toward Rosalie’s room to unwrap the new mattress and place it on the box spring. Rosalie was looking forward to her first comfortable night’s sleep in weeks.

  When they got back in Rosalie’s room, Rosalie saw there was a stack of papers on the old box spring. Alex picked them up and handed them to Rosalie.

  Rosalie frowned as she flipped a few pages. The top page was a piece of correspondence from George Tackett, the man who had called Rosalie several times since she’d taken over for Gran. The first paragraph of the letter begged Gran to reconsider her rejection of their offer.

  The second page of the pile was another letter from the same company, this one less intelligible to Rosalie.

  The third page, however, was the biggest shock of all: the deed to a large plot of land in Ashhawk, New Mexico, seated at 578 Cocheta Way. It was signed to Estelle Campbell, dated two years earlier.

  “Something interesting?”

  Rosalie didn’t answer as she frantically flipped through the rest of the pile. A half-dozen letters from Shaylin Development Inc., some legal correspondence, and what appeared to be the will of a man named Marvin Cobalt.

  “I don’t understand,” Rosalie said, breathless.

  “What?”

  Alex sidled up to Rosalie to look at the papers as she matched Rosalie’s frown. Then her face lifted, and she looked at Rosalie with a muted expression of surprise.

  “Well,” Alex said, as though it were almost comical. “You got yourself a nice chunk of land.”

  As the sole beneficiary of her grandmother’s estate, Rosalie realized she owned even more property in Ashhawk than she’d thought.

  “How did Gran’s lawyer not know about this?” Rosalie asked, gaze flickering between the papers and Alex.

  Alex moved closer, squinting at the documents.

  “When did she buy the property?”

  Rosalie flipped to the will. “She didn’t,” she said. “She inherited it from someone I’ve never heard of.”

  Alex bit her lip, frowning at the documents Rosalie was sifting through, trying to make sense of the discovery.

  “Oh, Marvin,” Alex said. “He must have left it to her.”

  Rosalie flipped to the deed and saw it was dated two years before. “Two years ago.”

  “And when did Estelle last make changes to her estate?”

  Rosalie froze, realizing what Alex had already figured out. “Three years ago.”

  She stood staring at a tacky painting of a lake Gran had framed on the wall over her kitchenette. She couldn’t believe she’d been saddled with another property.

  Her resentment for Gran flared. Who left their grandchild two enormous responsibilities and no guidance? Was there a letter or note tucked somewhere in another mattress she had yet to lift? Had Gran given any thought to the consequences of the things she’d left Rosalie?

  “So Estelle’s lawyer didn’t know about it,” Alex said, reaching forward to smooth out the edge of one of the papers.

  “Who the hell is Marvin Cobalt?”

  Alex looked at Rosalie, serious and sad. “Her boyfriend, I guess you could say. He lived here with her for a few years before he died.”

  Rosalie was even more dumbfounded. Even though her grandfather had died when she was small—his life insurance had paid off the mortgage of Hearth—she couldn’t picture Gran with anyone else.

  “She had a boyfriend?” Rosalie asked, half disbelieving, half grossed out.

  “Yeah,” Alex said, her voice growing soft, as though she felt sorry Rosalie didn’t know. “They were sweet together. He really loved her.”

  “Did you know him?” Rosalie asked.

  “I saw him around.”

  Rosalie dropped the papers on the box spring, overwhelmed.

  “Oh, my god,” Rosalie growled, covering her face. “What the hell was she thinking, leaving me all this shit in the middle of nowhere?”

  Alex took a step closer to Rosalie, resting her hand on Rosalie’s back. “It’s okay,” she said. “You’ll figure it out.”

  Rosalie drew her hands down, angrily gesturing toward the stack of papers on the box spring. “I can’t even manage one property, let alone two.”

  “You’re doing great,” Alex assured.

  Alex had previously been so stoic and detached, Rosalie was alarmed at how warm and calming she was now. It was as though she had taken off a brace or cast that confined her most of the time and was loose and relaxed in its absence. Rosalie turned into her, wanting to feel more of it.

  “I can’t even dispose of a dead mouse,” she argued.

  “That’s why you have me.”

  “Hiring you is the only thing I’ve done right,” Rosalie mumbled.

  “It’s a good start,” Alex said, a gentle smirk creeping across her face.

  It soothed Rosalie to see Ale
x so lighthearted.

  “You don’t have to make any decisions about the new property now,” Alex said. “Or next week. Or next month. It can sit there for however long you want.”

  Rosalie nodded. Then she remembered something that had confused her when reviewing Gran’s financial records.

  “This explains why Gran was paying so much in property taxes…”

  Alex hummed, giving a little bob of her head. “Do you want to go see it?”

  Rosalie thought about the heat outside and the endless dusty land spreading from one town to the next. She didn’t want to own any more of it than she already did. Maybe if she pretended it didn’t exist, she wouldn’t have to be responsible for it.

  “No.” She let out a sigh and straightened up. “Help me get the new mattress on.”

  Alex nodded, zipping back into her usual demeanor. Rosalie cleared the pile of papers from the box spring, setting them on the table gingerly, as though another deed might spring out from the crinkled edges. She helped Alex take the plastic off the new mattress and heave it onto the box spring. It was taller than the old mattress, making the room feel smaller.

  “Thanks,” Rosalie said.

  With the mattress on the bed and no urgent repairs to be made, Rosalie didn’t know what to tell Alex. She’d justified most of the work she’d had Alex do recently because it was critical to the operation and safety of the hotel. But unless she planned to pay Alex out of her own pocket, it wasn’t sustainable long term.

  “I wish I could keep you here full time,” she said quietly. “You’re the only person helping me with any of this.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about that,” Alex said, gaze falling to the floor as she scratched her ear. “Now’s maybe not a good time, though.”

  Rosalie’s eyebrows lifted, curious. “It’s fine,” she assured.

  Alex raised a challenging eyebrow.

  Rosalie lifted her eyebrows in response, impatient.

  Alex’s gaze drifted around the room. “A few years back, I was going through a rough time, and Estelle let me stay here in exchange for doing some repairs. I was wondering if—you know, if you don’t need all the rooms for occupancy—if you might be open to a work-trade thing. I understand if now’s not a good time. You’ve got a lot on your plate.” She gestured toward the stack of papers they’d uncovered. “Just thought I’d ask.”

  Rosalie felt like she could fall to her knees in gratitude. “Oh, my god, that would be amazing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you move in yesterday?”

  Alex smirked. “I was thinking, like, fifteen hours a week in exchange for staying here? And if you needed more help, you could pay me my hourly rate.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll write up a contract right now if you want.” Rosalie looked around for her laptop, feeling as though she’d had her first stroke of good luck in months.

  Alex looked relieved and slightly less uncomfortable. “I don’t need a contract if you don’t. Your word is good.”

  “I’m happy to write something up if you’d feel more comfortable that way.”

  Alex refused, pushing her hand through the air. She looked around the drab room, eyes growing distant.

  “Estelle was a real nice lady,” she said, crossing her arms across her torso. “She took care of people in this town.”

  She seemed sad—as sad as Alex ever got—and Rosalie was curious.

  “Was everything all right?” Rosalie asked.

  Alex looked up, an expression of mild confusion on her face.

  “When you lived here before. You said you were going through a rough time.”

  “Oh. Yeah, yeah.” Alex’s gaze was traveling the room again. “Just one of those times.”

  Rosalie nodded, trying to convey sympathy without making Alex uncomfortable. She was curious, but Alex was a private person. “I’m sure Gran appreciated the help as much as I do.”

  Alex straightened up at the reminder of how useful her services were. “I hope so.” She seemed keen to leave but didn’t know how to end the conversation.

  “Did you want to move in now?” Rosalie asked, trying to guess what Alex needed.

  Alex let out a pent-up sigh. “That’d be great. As long as you don’t need the room for occupancy.”

  Rosalie rolled her eyes over a creeping smile. “You know I never book up.”

  Alex smiled in admission. “I didn’t want to assume.”

  Rosalie felt her body warm with relief. Alex would be nearby now whenever she needed help.

  “Which room do you want?” Rosalie led the way out of her room.

  “Whichever one’s the cleanest,” Alex said.

  “I don’t know if you’ve met Susan, but that might be a tall order.”

  Alex chuckled. “Fine, the one with the best view of the pool.”

  Rosalie almost reached out to shove Alex playfully. The pool was still empty. “You could live in the pool,” she teased.

  “As long as I get cable,” Alex responded. “Maybe I could sleep on the mattress we just dumped out back.”

  Rosalie giggled and walked next to Alex the rest of the way to the office. Though the mysterious property on the other side of town was still on her mind, she felt better. Having Alex around more often was a good thing.

  ****

  When Rosalie saw Tara was calling a few days later, she frowned. Usually, they scheduled their phone conversations, so an unplanned call couldn’t be a good sign. She took a deep breath.

  “Hey,” she said, sounding unnecessarily cheerful.

  “Hey,” Tara replied.

  Rosalie felt her discomfort rise as the line was silent for an excruciating five seconds. She was supposed to be able to have conversations with her girlfriend easily.

  “So...I hate to do this over the phone, but I’ve been thinking.”

  Rosalie felt her stomach drop and her heart rate pick up. She knew what was coming. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah...” Tara said, sounding apologetic. “I know we said we’d wait until you got back in town to figure stuff out, but I’ve had some time to think, and…I’d rather end things on a good note and not try to juggle long distance with all the other uncertainties.”

  Rosalie felt something settle heavy in her chest. She wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t even upset. There hadn’t been a big enough spark between them to justify navigating long distance. It wasn’t for lack of goodwill or affection. They just didn’t spark.

  “Are you there?”

  Rosalie realized she hadn’t responded. “Yeah.” She straightened up, not wanting to sound too depressed by Tara’s decision.

  “Are you okay?” Tara asked.

  “Yeah.” Rosalie sounded as weary as the rest of Ashhawk.

  “I’m sorry to do this over the phone,” Tara repeated.

  “It’s okay. I figured you were gonna say that.”

  It was quiet.

  “I wish I could see your face, so I’d know what you’re thinking.”

  Rosalie smiled sadly. “It would have been nice to go to Zippy’s one last time. I thought we’d get to do that, at least.”

  “Yeah...” Tara said, her voice drooping. “I was hoping that, too.”

  There was a pause, and Rosalie took a deep breath, letting it flow out, rendering her heavy again.

  “I’m doing my best to sell this place and come back, but I don’t know how long that will take.”

  “I bet it’s so much work,” Tara said.

  Rosalie sighed again. Tara was a kind person. “It is a lot of work. But this way, I’ll be able to focus on it without worrying you’re sitting around waiting for me to get back.”

  Rosalie doubted Tara was waiting around for her to return; she’d seen more pictures of Tara out with friends posted to Facebook since she’d been in Ashhawk than in the entire time they’d been dating. Tara wasn’t waiting for her. But saying as much was a nod to their mutual consideration for each other.

  “I do want to see you when you get back
,” Tara offered.

  “You’ll see me,” Rosalie assured her. “It’s not like we’re ending things in a big fight or something.”

  “Definitely not,” Tara said. “I have nothing but good feelings about you.”

  Rosalie felt herself grow heavier, sadness seeping in. Tara had been so refreshing from the string of anxiety-provoking relationships Rosalie had had before. Talking to her had been easy; they liked the same books and movies and food. They enjoyed time spent quietly together, cleansing themselves of the stress and noise of their work lives. Remembering all the easy sweetness they’d shared in months past made Rosalie sad for it.

  “Yeah, me too,” she said. She felt her throat tighten and her chest constrict, a warning tears were coming.

  Her relationship with Tara could now be added to the death toll of the desert.

  Panicking, Rosalie racked her brain for something to steer the conversation away from anything that would encourage tears. “Hey, is there any way you could send me some of my stuff? I thought I’d be here for two or three weeks, tops, so I didn’t bring much.”

  “Definitely,” Tara said. “I can send you the stuff you had at my place, and I’m happy to swing by your place tomorrow and grab anything else.”

  “Thanks,” Rosalie said, grateful for Tara’s willingness to help.

  “Is there anything else I can do to make Ass-hawk less awful?”

  “Can you send me some lesbians?” Rosalie asked, joking.

  As soon as she said it, she felt guilty. She didn’t want Tara to think she was too eager to move on. She just didn’t want to be the only lesbian in Ashhawk, and since the jury was still out on Alex, she felt alone. “Not to, like, date. Just to combat the overwhelming heterosexuality of this place.”

  Tara gave a soft giggle. “They might be a little hard to ship, but I’ll see if I can corral a few into a FedEx box.”

  Rosalie smiled. “You’re a good friend, Tara.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  Rosalie held the phone to her ear, thinking back on the way they’d related to each other the last few months. Just because it hadn’t been passionate didn’t mean it wasn’t good. Rosalie knew the lack of traction wasn’t Ashhawk’s fault.