Hearts Inn Read online

  “How’s it going?”

  “Okay.” Alex bobbed her hand and placed her hands on her hips.

  “It’s hot out here,” Rosalie said, looking at the way Alex’s golden skin glinted in the sun.

  “No shit,” Alex said, as though to call attention to the fact that Rosalie had the luxury of working in the air-conditioned office while Alex endured the sun’s cruelty. “I finished up with the sink.” She gestured toward the guest rooms. She squinted in the harsh light, shielding her eyes with her hand. “I was trying to find a few tools to finish the pool tomorrow.”

  “Here,” Rosalie said, feeling guilty as she held the water toward Alex.

  Alex reached forward as she wiped her brow with her other hand. She drank the water in a long, graceful motion, throat pulsing as she swallowed, body seeming to surge with gratitude for the coolness and hydration. She finished with a small gasp, wiping her lip and bringing the cup down before extending it back to Rosalie. She crouched down again, frowning at a stack of paint cans.

  Watching Alex sort through the shed, Rosalie wondered if Alex liked girls. Rosalie knew it wasn’t so simple, but Alex’s appearance gave conflicting clues: She wore comfortable clothing and practical shoes and kept her hair, face, and nails natural. Her posture was strong and unapologetic, but she had a feminine fluidity to her. Alex’s presentation confused Rosalie, and her inexpressive face didn’t help.

  Pushing her curiosity aside, Rosalie realized Alex probably worked up an appetite.

  “I was thinking of making lasagna for dinner. Do you want some?”

  Alex looked up, stoic for a moment before she responded. “Sure. Let me know when.”

  Rosalie wrung her hands. “Whenever you’re hungry,” she said. “I need, like, five minutes.”

  “To make lasagna?”

  “It’s microwave,” Rosalie admitted. “I don’t know how to cook. But I figured you must be hungry at the end of the day...” She trailed off, embarrassed she had thought offering to microwave a lasagna was generous.

  But Alex nodded. “Sounds good,” she said, glancing back at her work. “I’ll look around here for another ten minutes. If I don’t find what I need, I’ll go get it tonight.”

  Rosalie squeezed her hands to keep from fidgeting. “It’ll be ready in ten.”

  Ten minutes later, Rosalie took two single-serving lasagnas out of the microwave. They looked plain in their cardboard dishes, the cheese crusting on the sides, hints of ruffled noodles poking out around the edges. Maybe there was something she could sprinkle on it to make it look more appealing. Parsley, maybe? Dried oregano? Did those things go with lasagna? Before she could contemplate it further, she heard the door open and the bells clang against the glass, announcing Alex’s presence.

  Rosalie poked her head out of the back room with a nervous smile on her face. “Hi,” she said. “It’s still too hot.”

  Alex nodded, looking around the lobby, catching Rosalie’s eye as she did. Rosalie wondered what her eyes saw that Rosalie didn’t. Was there an obvious electrical problem? An unstable shelf affixed to the wall? Black mold growing somewhere? Rosalie wanted to know.

  “Do you want to eat in here?” Rosalie asked.

  Alex’s face stayed expressionless. “I’d like a break from the heat,” she said, sighing a little bit.

  Rosalie nodded, realizing eating in the lobby was their only temperature-controlled option unless she planned to invite Alex back to her room to eat at her rickety card table and sit on her folding chairs staring at Gran’s ashes, which she didn’t. Gran’s room was too depressing to spend much time in.

  “I have hard cider, if you want,” Rosalie offered, her mind flashing to the two bottles she had left in her room.

  Alex smirked, as though she had expected as much. “It’s okay. I’m heading to the Peso after this. They’ve got good beer on tap.”

  Of course Alex had plans for after work. Who with, Rosalie didn’t know, but it seemed fitting Alex would go to a bar and have a tall, frothing glass of something rather than sitting in Rosalie’s sad lobby.

  As she contemplated what Alex might do after work, Rosalie wondered where Alex would go to meet girls, if she was so inclined. Was there somewhere in town, or did she have to go to Albuquerque or Santa Fe? Was it safe to be out in a town like Ashhawk? She had no idea what it meant to be a lesbian in this part of the country.

  But of course, she didn’t want to assume anything based on Alex’s appearance.

  “Is the Peso any good?” Rosalie asked, setting the lasagna on the desk. She pulled an extra chair out from the back room, deciding she would give Alex the cushioned rolling chair she sat in all day.

  Alex ventured around the counter. “It gets the job done.”

  Rosalie nodded as though she knew what Alex was talking about. She imagined the bars in New Mexico weren’t places she’d want to go—filled with smoke, truckers, and rednecks. She’d rather sit in her room drinking cider and eating microwave lasagna. If only she had some company.

  “Is that the only bar in town?” Rosalie asked.

  Alex shook her head, eyeing the rolling chair Rosalie had offered her before sitting in it, occupying it as though it were strange and too large. Her knees fell open and her arms draped over the armrests, but she looked stiff and uncertain.

  “I forgot forks,” Rosalie said, darting up to retrieve them from the back room. When she returned, Alex was turning the chair from side to side, looking a little more comfortable.

  “There’s also the Hog on Galisteo Street. It’s owned by the Stewarts. Do you know them?”

  Rosalie shook her head, eyeing her lasagna. “I only know you and the housekeeper and the blond waitress at the diner.”

  “Shelley,” Alex offered.

  “Are bars the only social scene around here?” Rosalie asked, trying not to wince at the possibility.

  “Pretty much, unless you go to church or AA or something.”

  Rosalie grimaced, nodding as she took a bite of her lasagna.

  “You look disappointed,” Alex said.

  Rosalie shrugged. “It’s different here than back home. It’s hard not knowing anyone.”

  Alex nodded as though she now understood why Rosalie was always hovering around her. “If you want a great social scene with a nice blend of small town and urban culture, my brother’s got a place an hour south of Albuquerque. He does these weekend events called ‘salons.’ Drinks, music, entertainment, and stuff. He does different themes every month. I usually drive down for the men’s weekends.”

  Rosalie was confused. Even if Alex wasn’t especially feminine, she was pretty sure Alex didn’t think of herself as a man.

  “Men’s weekends?”

  “Gay men from all over the country. I’m usually the only girl, but it’s fun.”

  Rosalie perked up at the mention of anyone who wasn’t straight. She was desperate to believe she wasn’t the only lesbian in Ashhawk, but short of flat out asking Alex if she was Sapphically inclined, there was no way to know.

  But she could drop hints about her own orientation and see how Alex reacted. She calculated how much she wanted to share; if she outed herself, maybe Alex would grow cold and distant. Or maybe she would start to open up over their shared experience. Rosalie figured if Alex enjoyed hanging out with gay men, she was probably okay with gay women.

  Steeling herself, Rosalie took a risk. “I went to Provincetown for Women’s Week with my girlfriend once.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Alex’s expression was unreadable.

  Rosalie felt her pulse surge. “It was fun. Kind of overwhelming, but fun.”

  “How long have you two been together?”

  Rosalie felt her body relax, coming down from the anxious high of outing herself. Alex was accepting.

  “Oh. Uh…we broke up. It was a while ago. But I have someone I’m seeing in Philadelphia. We met about five months ago.”

  Rosalie realized she wasn’t prepared for this conversation. She’d felt so awf
ul after talking to Tara the night before. “We’re in a weird place right now.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Alex said. Her tone was formal.

  “Yeah,” Rosalie said, retreating from further talk of her personal life.

  Alex was hard to read; she wasn’t irked by Rosalie talking about Tara, but she hadn’t warmed up, either. Maybe she was being polite. Rosalie didn’t want to make Alex feel uncomfortable.

  “It’s funny what inheriting a shitty hotel can do to a girl’s life.”

  “I imagine.”

  Rosalie felt Alex studying her, scrutinizing her. She busied herself with her lasagna. She wondered if she’d been foolish to out herself so hastily to one of the only people helping her in this strange town.

  “You’re trying to sell this place, right?”

  Rosalie wriggled, trying to shrug but not committing to it without guilt.

  “I haven’t met with any real estate agents yet. It’s overwhelming just to run this place day to day. And I feel bad because I know it meant a lot to Gran.”

  Alex sat forward, as though she were about to confide something in Rosalie. Rosalie braced herself for it.

  “I got to know your grandmother a little bit a few years back. She was a real nice lady. Took care of people in this town as best she could.”

  Rosalie nodded, jarred by the sudden closeness and subject change. People had spoken to her about Gran since she’d arrived in Ashhawk, but not like this.

  Alex continued. “As much as she loved this hotel, she wouldn’t want you to feel stuck here because of it. She’d want you to be happy.”

  Rosalie felt her throat tighten, not because of the way Alex was reminiscing about Gran, but because Rosalie knew what Alex was saying was true. Gran was gentle and kind to everyone. She hadn’t pushed for Rosalie to come visit her over the last decade, probably because Rosalie had been insolent and whiny the last few summers she’d come to visit. Her teenage self had resented being sent away from her involvement in clubs and petty social drama and charades of crushes on boys. Gran had known Rosalie didn’t love Ashhawk and didn’t try to make her visit. Now Gran was gone, fifteen years of summers with her had been lost, and Rosalie had nothing to show for it but a few concert tickets and a Rollerblading scar on her left knee. Thinking of how poorly she’d treated Gran, she felt even guiltier about selling the inn.

  “Yeah,” Rosalie said, hoping she wouldn’t get emotional in front of Alex. “I think you’re right.”

  Alex leaned back, a trace of a smile on her face as she used her fork to carve out a large bite of her lasagna and bring it to her mouth.

  Eager to change the subject, Rosalie waited until Alex finished chewing before she asked, “Have you always lived in Ashhawk?”

  Alex swallowed. “I’ve bounced around a bit. Did some apprentice work in Albuquerque, spent six months here and there. But I always land back here.”

  Rosalie tried to phrase her next question so it didn’t hold the judgment she knew she had. “What brings you back?”

  Alex let out a chuckle, as though she was as confused as Rosalie. “Family, friends. The comfort of the familiar.”

  Rosalie nodded, as though she understood how such things could bind someone to a place as dismal as Ashhawk. She knew Gran had loved Ashhawk, but she couldn’t understand what would draw someone as young and capable as Alex back time after time.

  “There’s lots of space here,” Alex continued. “It’s easier to figure out what matters when there aren’t five hundred things happening at once.”

  Rosalie nodded as though she understood how the desert could help bring clarity when all it did was parch and overwhelm her.

  “Where did you say you were from?” Alex asked.

  “Philadelphia,” Rosalie said, relieved to be on a safer topic. “I’ve been there since college.”

  Alex’s eyebrows lifted, and Rosalie wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t have brought up her college education again, especially after how it had irked Shelley the night before.

  “What do you do in Philly?” Alex asked.

  “I work for a reinsurance company.”

  Alex frowned.

  “Insurance for insurance companies. Corporate CYA,” Rosalie explained.

  “Sounds like a lot of paperwork and math,” Alex said.

  “It was,” Rosalie said, thinking back to her clean, reliably climate-controlled office with its view of another building’s side.

  “Was,” Alex echoed. “Did you leave?”

  “No,” Rosalie said, startled she’d spoken of her job in the past tense. “I’m on leave while I get things taken care of here.”

  “And then you’ll go back,” Alex said, finishing Rosalie’s sentence.

  “That’s the plan,” Rosalie said, weary hope dragging in her words.

  “Hmm.” Alex studied Rosalie. “Do you like the work?”

  Rosalie shrugged. “It has good benefits.”

  Rosalie realized too late it was a snobby thing to say. Most people in Ashhawk didn’t have benefits.

  “But do you like it?”

  Rosalie couldn’t bring herself to shrug again. “It’s not bad.”

  Alex raised her eyebrows. “You should figure out if you like it before you get rid of this place.”

  “I do like it,” Rosalie said, backpedaling through the discomfort Alex had brought up. “I want to go back.”

  Alex bobbed her head and finished her last bite of lasagna before she leaned forward, as though to get up. “Then you better get those real estate agent appointments lined up.”

  Rosalie remained seated, disarmed by Alex’s frank advice.

  “Thanks for dinner,” Alex said. “Where should I put my plate?”

  “Leave it,” Rosalie said, swatting the air.

  “Okay,” Alex said, standing. “I’ll be back in the morning to paint the pool.”

  “Okay,” Rosalie said, sorry to see Alex go, yet relieved she wouldn’t have to think about whether or not she actually wanted to sell the hotel. “See you tomorrow.”

  Alex gave Rosalie a familiar smile as she walked out from around the counter and left the lobby. Rosalie listened as Alex’s truck roared awake and rattled out of the parking lot. She sat in the silence until she couldn’t bear it any longer and got up, eager to see if the small gray cat had come back to find her.

  Chapter Three

  Recovery Suite

  Alex was already at work in the empty pool when Rosalie got up the next morning. Rosalie walked over to the pool, more confident since their conversation the night before. Alex may not have gone out of her way to be friendly, but Rosalie no longer felt disliked.

  Alex was wearing white painter’s overalls, rolling bright blue rubberized paint over the curved side of the pool.

  “Morning.”

  Alex turned around and looked up. “Morning,” she said with a smile. Alex’s smile was funny; half the time, it looked like she was determined not to let her tough exterior crack and was annoyed when something warranted a smile, and half the time, she looked relieved to have something to smile about.

  A beat passed, and Rosalie was eager to fill it with conversation. “I took your advice.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I called a bunch of real estate agents last night.”

  “Good for you.” Alex lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun and the glare off the bottom of the pool. “What did they say?”

  “I’m meeting someone in a few hours.”

  “Good,” Alex said.

  Another beat passed, and this time, Rosalie felt like Alex was searching for something to say, too.

  “I’d say you could help me paint for a bit if you’re bored, but I wouldn’t want you to get sweaty or covered in paint before your meeting.”

  Rosalie hesitated, considering Alex had invited her to hang around. But Alex was right; she didn’t want to look or smell unprofessional for the real estate agent.

  “Yeah, I should probably be in the
office in case someone wants to check out.”

  “Of course.” Alex looked back at the section of bright blue paint she was rolling over the faded blue with its white lightning bolts where she’d filled in cracks. “This should take me another hour.”

  Rosalie nodded, crossing her arms so she had something to do with them. “There’s coffee and tea in the lobby, if you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  Knowing the conversation was done, Rosalie turned and headed back to the office to avoid hovering around the pool awkwardly.

  Alex was a mystery. Stoic and strong, she was the perfect balance of masculine and feminine. Rosalie wondered how she had come to be that way. Had she been raised amongst brothers? Had the heat baked excess softness and vulnerability out of her? Or had she simply come into the world as Alex, hearty and unapologetic?

  An hour later, Alex came into the lobby to get some water and tell Rosalie she’d be back in the late afternoon to do the second coat. Rosalie nodded, reminding Alex to give her an invoice for the work at some point.

  When Tom, the real estate agent, showed up, he looked around the property distractedly as Rosalie greeted him. Rosalie had the sinking feeling he hadn’t expected the property to look the way it did. She quickly launched into her dilemma—how she’d inherited the hotel, how she was keen to get back to her life in Philadelphia, and how much the property had meant to her grandmother.

  After exhausting all her possible subject matters, the man cleared his throat.

  “I’m not the best agent for this listing,” he said.

  “Can I ask why?”

  He seemed impatient. “Honestly, this place isn’t going to go anytime soon, and you’re probably not going to sell it for market value.”

  Rosalie was disheartened.

  “This town isn’t exactly a prime location, sweetheart.”

  Rosalie stiffened at his condescension.

  “Nothing in this town is selling, in case you couldn’t see.” The man gestured around as though they were surrounded by faded For sale signs.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Rosalie had foolishly hoped the hotel would be different from the rest of Ashhawk. Its affiliation with Gran had made it seem separate to her.