before she found the flashlight, and she followed its weak beam back into the storm and to the detached garage. She managed to make her way through the clutter and over to the generator with only one undignified shriek as she walked through a cobweb. She played the light over the dusty machine, searching for some indication of how it worked, and found a small power switch. She flicked it to the on position and stepped back, giving in to the fantasy that the generator would magically rumble to life and light up the house, even though she figured the heavy cords draped over it needed to be attached to something. She didn’t relish the idea of fumbling in the dark with electrical circuits, so she struggled against the wind and back into the house.
Helpless again. And unprepared to look after herself, let alone an inn full of guests. Her frustration at least helped distract her from the odd noises coming from every corner of the inn. Okay, somewhat.
She was drenched after the brief step outside, but a hot shower was as elusive as light. She changed into dry clothes and crawled under several blankets, moving learn how to operate generator to the top of her mental to-do list.
❖
Pam startled awake when the electricity went out, and she sat up in her bed in the A-frame’s loft. Piper’s small snores were reassuring in the dark, and she settled back again and listened to the wind whistling between the closely spaced beach houses. Only a moment later a loud cracking sound made her sit up again. Piper woke with a snort at what sounded like one of the neighbor’s pine trees slamming into Pam’s house. She grabbed a powerful flashlight from her bedside table and trotted down the circular staircase.
“Damn,” she muttered as she shone her light on the branches that had ripped through a section of her roof. Rain dripped onto her living-room floor, splashing onto broken glass from the south-facing window, and the wind slashed loudly through the hole. It would be small consolation to say I told you so to her neighbors when she called to tell them about the damage. She had mentioned the unhealthy tree several times, suggesting they take care of it before leaving to winter in Arizona. Their homeowner’s insurance would cover the cost of repairs, but Pam knew the process would be long and slow.
She thought she might be able to pull the pine off her house, but it was actually providing some shelter for her floor. So, instead, she climbed on a chair and struggled against the wind to tuck one of her canvas drop cloths between the branches and the jagged edges of her roof. Another cloth covered the broken glass, so Piper wouldn’t accidentally cut her paws on it. Then she pulled stacks of soggy books from the broken bookshelf and laid them out on the linoleum floor in the laundry room. There wasn’t much more she could do in the darkness. She briefly considered trying to find a hotel for the rest of the night, but she hated the thought of leaving her broken house. After one last resigned look with the flashlight, Pam climbed the stairs again and changed into a dry T-shirt. In a rare moment of weakness, Piper left her cushion and huddled on the bed. Pam burrowed under the covers with her dog curled in a tight ball at her side and finally fell into a fitful sleep to the sound of flapping canvas.
Chapter Seven
Pam answered the door with her cell phone held to her ear and the tinny sound of Muzak grating on her already frayed nerves. Mel. Great. She had almost forgotten the message she had left on Mel’s machine the night before, giving her address and an invitation for Mel to come by anytime to pick up her painting. Naturally she had come at the worst possible time, as if to remind Pam why she rarely let anyone know where she lived.
“I’m on hold with a contractor,” she explained as she waved Mel inside. “A tree fell…Yes, I need to speak with someone about repairing my roof.”
Pam gave a detailed description of the
Helpless again. And unprepared to look after herself, let alone an inn full of guests. Her frustration at least helped distract her from the odd noises coming from every corner of the inn. Okay, somewhat.
She was drenched after the brief step outside, but a hot shower was as elusive as light. She changed into dry clothes and crawled under several blankets, moving learn how to operate generator to the top of her mental to-do list.
❖
Pam startled awake when the electricity went out, and she sat up in her bed in the A-frame’s loft. Piper’s small snores were reassuring in the dark, and she settled back again and listened to the wind whistling between the closely spaced beach houses. Only a moment later a loud cracking sound made her sit up again. Piper woke with a snort at what sounded like one of the neighbor’s pine trees slamming into Pam’s house. She grabbed a powerful flashlight from her bedside table and trotted down the circular staircase.
“Damn,” she muttered as she shone her light on the branches that had ripped through a section of her roof. Rain dripped onto her living-room floor, splashing onto broken glass from the south-facing window, and the wind slashed loudly through the hole. It would be small consolation to say I told you so to her neighbors when she called to tell them about the damage. She had mentioned the unhealthy tree several times, suggesting they take care of it before leaving to winter in Arizona. Their homeowner’s insurance would cover the cost of repairs, but Pam knew the process would be long and slow.
She thought she might be able to pull the pine off her house, but it was actually providing some shelter for her floor. So, instead, she climbed on a chair and struggled against the wind to tuck one of her canvas drop cloths between the branches and the jagged edges of her roof. Another cloth covered the broken glass, so Piper wouldn’t accidentally cut her paws on it. Then she pulled stacks of soggy books from the broken bookshelf and laid them out on the linoleum floor in the laundry room. There wasn’t much more she could do in the darkness. She briefly considered trying to find a hotel for the rest of the night, but she hated the thought of leaving her broken house. After one last resigned look with the flashlight, Pam climbed the stairs again and changed into a dry T-shirt. In a rare moment of weakness, Piper left her cushion and huddled on the bed. Pam burrowed under the covers with her dog curled in a tight ball at her side and finally fell into a fitful sleep to the sound of flapping canvas.
Chapter Seven
Pam answered the door with her cell phone held to her ear and the tinny sound of Muzak grating on her already frayed nerves. Mel. Great. She had almost forgotten the message she had left on Mel’s machine the night before, giving her address and an invitation for Mel to come by anytime to pick up her painting. Naturally she had come at the worst possible time, as if to remind Pam why she rarely let anyone know where she lived.
“I’m on hold with a contractor,” she explained as she waved Mel inside. “A tree fell…Yes, I need to speak with someone about repairing my roof.”
Pam gave a detailed description of the
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