A Long Way to Fall, page 7
Lola caught up to her. “Wait. Are you being serious?”
“Oh, yeah. She won’t require any guidance. In fact, she’ll boss you all over the bedroom. Window to the wall.”
Lola grabbed her arm and stopped her. “Okay. I know where you’re going with this. And it’s not even a little bit funny.”
Bridget gestured with her thumb and index finger. “Maybe a little bit funny? You? Harriet? Sparks flying?”
Lola threw a hand over her eyes. “I can’t deal right now. She’s like, I don’t know…an auntie figure?”
“Yeah. It’s kinda creepy. But we’re going to her office anyway. We need to discuss getting you on the schedule up here.”
“I thought you were the boss. It’s your name on the building.”
Bridget gave one of her younger guests a little wave as she went by. “Technically, I am. But nothing happens without Harriet’s approval. You know that.” Another young guest approached them, so Bridget threw her hand in the air. The boy made a running jump and tried to high-five her. “Good one, Max. You’re almost there.”
“Why are the cops here?” he asked.
“One cop. And she’s my friend.”
Lola offered her fist. “Hey, Max. Nice to meet you. Word of advice, Bridge? Don’t tell Harriet what you just told me. You need to run this place like it’s yours. Which it is. So own it, okay?”
Bridget didn’t need any reminders that she was in charge or that everything to do with the lodge fell on her shoulders. She’d been carrying that load around for going on a year now. She stopped at Harriet’s door and turned to Lola. “Trust me. I’m owning it when it counts. That hot Fleming chick will not get under my skin or anywhere near my…” She cringed when she realized she’d said it out loud. Maybe Lola would let it go. And maybe pigs would fly.
Lola smirked. “Hot, huh? Oh, and please finish that sentence. She won’t get anywhere near your what?”
Bridget rolled her eyes. “Fill in the blank.”
* * *
Kennedy opened a kitchen cupboard and slammed it shut. She did the same thing with three more while she waited for her phone call to go through. She knew food wouldn’t magically appear in one of them, but giving them a good slam every few hours seemed to help with her newly acquired anger management issues. She gave the empty fridge a good slam too.
“Ken? What’s that noise?” Michael asked.
“I’m starving, okay? There’s no food in this house, and no one will deliver because I’m on top of a fucking mountain, and the driveway hasn’t been plowed. The only reason I can talk to you right now without the call dropping is because I bribed an employee at the lodge to give me their Wi-Fi password. Did you get the picture I sent of the cabin? Our father obviously lost his mind long before we knew he was losing his mind.” It was a harsh thing to say about a man suffering from dementia, and Michael’s silence told her it wasn’t appreciated. “Sorry,” she said. “That was uncalled for.”
“Is that crime scene tape?”
“Oh, you noticed that too, huh? Doesn’t blend in with the evergreens and snow well enough, apparently.”
“What happened?” Michael asked.
“I happened. And when the fine people at the Boden Berg Lodge realized I was here, they put that tape up all around Dad’s property. A fine welcome to the neighborhood, don’t you think?” She slammed the last empty cupboard door shut. “Now, get me the hell out of here before an actual crime gets committed.”
“Okay, look. You can’t leave yet. I’ll find someone to plow the driveway for you.”
It didn’t make sense. Michael could’ve worked with a real estate agent remotely. Kennedy did that in Miami all the time with out-of-state clients. And it wasn’t as if they could sink a few grand into the house and make that much more of a profit. The place was dated. The design was horrible. The furnace was useless. The house was a total tear-down. Why not just take what they could get and walk away?
She sank back down in the recliner under a blanket. “Michael, our father is hated here. And the longer I stay, the more worried I get that I’m going to lose respect for a man I’ve admired my entire life. They literally hate him. And me by proxy. Why is that? What are you not telling me about this place?”
“You can’t look at it as just a dated house on top of a mountain. Dad built that place back when there were only one or two ski runs on Elk Mountain. The people who skied there back then were diehard badasses who didn’t care if the runs were groomed. They were there to ski the back country where the powder was deep, and there wasn’t another soul around.”
“Great story, bro, but here’s a news flash. There still isn’t another soul around, and the few who are here on top of this, this goddamned mountain won’t feed me. Oh, and my luggage still hasn’t arrived, so I have nothing but Dad’s clothes to wear. Just kill me now, Michael.” She sounded pathetic and spoiled, even to herself. But she hadn’t put herself in this situation, Michael had. In fact, she’d worked her ass off just so she’d never have to deal with shit like this. She could pay someone else to stoke the fire and bring her food and whatever the hell else she needed. This was just plain bullshit.
After a long pause, Michael said, “I thought lesbians liked flannel.”
It wasn’t like Michael to make jokes about her sexuality. Why he chose that particular moment to make one, when she was cold and hungry, was beyond her. “You know what, Michael? You’re lucky your wife is about to deliver my goddaughter because it’s the only reason I’ll still be talking to you after this. Good-bye.” She wanted to throw her phone across the room, but then she’d truly be all alone.
Chapter Four
Bridget walked Lola to the door. “Thanks for stopping by. And give it some thought, Lo. I think some of our guests would jump at the chance to ski with you.”
“And I think you’re selling yourself short,” Lola said. “But I have to say, the way you told Harriet what was what instead of asking her permission was kinda hot. Keep that up, okay?”
Bridget blushed. Even though their dating relationship had been short-lived, Bridget was grateful it hadn’t ruined their friendship. She didn’t know what she’d do without Lola in her life. She was about to reply when a strange voice came through her radio.
Please be advised that Hungry Hippo just sat at the bar, and she’s about to order a martini on an empty stomach.
Bridget gasped. “How did she get hold of someone’s radio?”
“That’s her?” Lola asked with a laugh. “Hey, at least she has a sense of humor.”
Harriet rushed toward them. “Bridge, maybe you should let Sheriff Johns handle her this time?”
Lola grinned. “I’d rather watch Bridget kick some ass. But in a really nice way because she’s working on not being antagonistic.”
Bridget fumed on the inside. Kicking ass was exactly what she wanted to do, but she gave Harriet a reassuring smile. “Take Lola to the security office. She can watch from there.”
Lola winked before she turned to walk away. There was a certain level of comfort in knowing she’d be there if Bridget needed backup. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that since the lobby had started to fill up with tired skiers ready to warm up by the fire with a cocktail. She made sure she smiled at her guests as she went while calming herself with a few deep breaths. The last thing she needed was a nasty scene right before the dinner hour.
Kennedy was indeed sitting at the bar with her arms folded tight against her body and a scowl on her face. She lifted her chin when she saw Bridget and said, “It’s about time. Kevin would only serve me water until you arrived.”
Bridget held out her hand. “The radio, please.”
With a look of defiant reluctance, Kennedy took a radio from its hiding place between her legs and set it in Bridget’s hand. “I got desperate when I couldn’t find Seth.”
Kennedy didn’t make eye contact the way she had before. She folded her arms again and stared straight ahead. Bridget took it as a silent threat that she’d make a scene if she was asked to leave again. As much as she wanted to grab her by the arm and drag her out of there, a part of her also wanted to impress Harriet and Lola by diffusing the situation without their help. Didn’t mean she couldn’t still make the threat.
She leaned on the bar with one elbow and faced Kennedy. “If you’re here to make trouble, you should probably know that Sheriff Johns is currently sitting in my security office.”
“I bet his jail is warmer than my house. Maybe I should steal some food instead of going broke for it.” She put up a finger and made eye contact. “Or maybe you should go to jail for charging me two hundred dollars for coffee and a muffin. I think they call that price gouging?”
Bridget tried to suppress a grin. The fact that Kennedy actually paid Seth that much made her want to laugh out loud. “The sheriff is a she, actually. And I wouldn’t know how warm her jail is, but if you leave quietly, neither of us will ever have to find out.”
Kennedy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I love a woman in a uniform. Especially one who’s packing heat. What color is her uniform? I’m going to guess it’s khaki green. Seems logical for someone whose territory is in the woods, wouldn’t you agree, Bridget?”
For a moment, Bridget wondered if their close proximity and the flirty tone in Kennedy’s voice was some sort of power play. Now that she had their Wi-Fi password, had she done her research? Did she know Bridget was a lesbian? Did she just assume she was also a sucker for a pretty face? She didn’t want to think of Jerry Fleming’s blood relative in those terms, but it was hard not to when they were so close to one another. When Bridget realized she’d let her eyes follow Kennedy’s hand as she smoothed her hair over her ear and down the back of her neck, then rested it under her chin, she turned away.
“Oh God,” Kennedy said. “You’re going to make me wonder what color it is, aren’t you? Well, for the love of all that’s sacred, can I please get some bread and butter before I keel over on your floor, and you’re forced to give me mouth-to-mouth?”
Bridget could’ve kicked herself when her eyes went directly to said mouth. It was as if she couldn’t help herself from falling into every flirty trap Kennedy set for her. With a quick flick of her wrist, she waved a server over. “A basket of bread, please, Wendy.”
“And a cheese board, Wendy. And a medium rare steak, if it’s not too much trouble. Oh, and I don’t know if word has gotten around, but I tip really well, especially when I’m on death’s door. Can you see how hollow my cheeks have gotten? And my color is sort of gray, isn’t it? Like I belong in a hospital bed getting last rites from my priest.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Bridget shooed Wendy away and turned back to Kennedy. “I’d appreciate it if you’d direct your comments to me and leave my staff out of it.”
Kennedy leaned back in her chair and put her hands up. “Fine. At least you haven’t kicked me out into that arctic gale that’s picked up in the last hour. I guess I should be grateful for that much.”
“Guilt trips won’t work,” Bridget said. “You’ll eat your bread, and then you’ll leave quietly. Now, what kind of soda do you like? I can’t have you choking on the bread.”
Kennedy leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand. “The vodka kind.”
Bridget caught Kevin’s eye and waved him over. “I’m not going to serve you alcohol on an empty stomach so you can wander out into the cold and die on a snowbank. I hate when that happens.”
“Yeah, choking and hypothermia don’t sound like much fun, but what if you try to kill me with food? A big fat steak and a baked potato covered in butter and cheese and bacon bits. Oh, and sour cream, obviously. I’d die for that. Hell, I’d kill for that. And you can sit right here on the stool next to me to make sure I behave.” Kennedy threw her hands to the sky. “My God, I’m brilliant.”
“What can I get for you?” Kevin asked.
Bridget stopped Kennedy from replying by putting her hand across the bar in front of her. “She’ll have a Diet Coke on the house. No refills.” She snapped her head around when she heard a chuckle and said, “I’m this close to kicking you out, so I wouldn’t laugh if I were you.”
Kennedy pursed her lips together and gave her a nod. “Thank you for buying me a drink. Very chivalrous of you.”
“Don’t say it like I just bought you a drink drink.” Bridget grimaced at her own words. She felt flustered and feared she was getting red in the face. She wasn’t sure what to do next. Should she stand there and watch the Hungry Hippo snarf down a mini loaf of bread? Should she walk away and hope she didn’t go from table to table begging for scraps? Should she give in and let the woman eat? She pulled at her collar and wished she hadn’t put a company sweater on over her button-up shirt.
“Holy hot sheriff,” Kennedy said. “And I nailed it with the khaki green.”
Bridget turned toward the entrance. She wasn’t sure why Lola had felt the need to join them. She had the situation under control. It irritated her slightly, but she tried not to let it show and waited until she was seated on the other side of Kennedy before she said, “Sheriff Johns, this is Kennedy Fleming, aka, Jerry’s daughter. She’ll be gone once her bread arrives, won’t you, Ms. Fleming?”
Kennedy gave her a sly grin. “Careful, Ms. Berg. You might get me all hot and bothered with your tough talk.” She offered a hand to Lola and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sheriff Johns.” She leaned back in her chair so the three of them had a view of each other and glanced between them as if watching a silent tennis match.
Lola reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. “I just came by to introduce myself. This is my direct number. If you have any issues, concerns, complaints, feel free to call me anytime.”
Kennedy took the card and tucked it in her pocket. “That list would take some time to write, so how about we focus on my current complaint, which is the lack of service in this bar. Do you happen to have any pull with the boss, Sheriff?”
Lola smiled. “I try to save it for the really important stuff. You ladies have a good evening.”
Kennedy offered her hand again. “So good to meet you, Sheriff. Feel free to stop by my place anytime. It’s BYOB. Oh, and potluck. But not salad. I don’t have time for salads anymore.”
Bridget had heard enough. “Hey, Sheriff? Chef is making a special Sunday brunch tomorrow. You should join us if you can.”
Lola rubbed her hands together. “Ooh…will he be making those hazelnut crepes I love so much? If so, I’m in.”
“Great. See you tomorrow.” Bridget gave Lola a pat on the shoulder as she went by and turned back to find Kennedy scowling at her. “I’ll have the shop send over some provisions to your house in the morning. Can’t have the neighbors going hungry.”
“So I’ll be eating tiny powdered doughnuts from your gift shop while you all have, what? Caviar? Stuffed French toast? Fresh ground espresso? Maybe an English muffin with marmalade?”
“Homemade English muffins. They’re delicious. And don’t forget about the caramel pecan cinnamon rolls and warm beignets dusted in powdered sugar.” It gave Bridget such pleasure to say those words; she realized she was smiling in a gleeful way. Was that horrible? Did it make her a bad person? Probably, but she didn’t care.
Wendy walked up with a to-go container. The look of fear in her eyes told Bridget that she’d realized who Kennedy was: Jerry the Jerk’s daughter.
“Oh, look. Wendy put the bread in a to-go container for you, which means there’s no reason for you to sit here any longer.”
Kennedy picked up her glass and downed her drink. She stood and faced Bridget. “I wouldn’t take that bread from you now if it was the last thing I had to eat.”
Bridget raised an eyebrow. “It is, isn’t it?”
With a final glare that Bridget assumed was meant to cover up the hurt in her eyes, Kennedy walked out of the restaurant. “Well, shit,” Bridget whispered. She grabbed the bread and went after her. “You really should take the bread. Can’t have you dying of starvation on my mountain,” she quipped.
Kennedy sauntered through the lobby, never looking back before she went out the door. She didn’t even stop in the store for some snacks. Lola came back out of the security office and stood next to Bridget. “Well, she’s trouble with a capital T. Hot trouble.”
Bridget huffed. “You’re just saying that because you like the feisty type. Remember that girl from Sweden?”
“All legs and bad attitude,” Lola said. “God, how I loved her.” She nudged Bridget with her elbow. “Want me to take this one off your hands?”
Bridget gasped. “She’s a Fleming, Lo. Please tell me you would never, in a million years, go there, or I might have to ban you from the property too.”
Lola laughed. “I’m just messing with you. And I’m one call away if you need me.” She put her coat on and zipped it all the way up. “It’s getting bad out there. Better get going.”
Bridget held up the to-go box. “I remember how much you like good toast in the morning.”
Lola took the box. “Ooh, I have the perfect topping for it too. Aunt May just made a batch of her apple jalapeno jelly.”
“Tell her to call Chef. He’ll want to stock up.”
“Will do.”
She watched Lola brave the wind and snow until she was safe in her SUV. Snowfall was welcomed by all but combined with wind, made for some rough skiing. Bridget hoped it would die down by morning.
* * *
Kennedy wasn’t spending another miserable night in that cabin. She didn’t care what Michael had to say about it. She opened the garage door and inspected the four-wheel ATV. It had a small snowplow attached to the front. She just had to figure out how to make the damn thing work so she could plow the driveway and get herself out of this godforsaken place.
