Page 6 of Charlie Takes a Chance

The downside of growing up with your business partner is that you both get away with asking each other for ridiculous things.

I snap the faucet on and rinse my trusty old coffee pot to prep it for in the morning. Jim yips at me. I glance back and see him sitting at the entrance to the kitchen.

“Are you apologizing?”

He looks at me with his head cocked. He’s not apologizing. He’s waiting for me to say I’m sorry for hollering at him.

“Well, I’m sorry that she’s not going to last long,” I tell Jim as I pour the water into the back of the coffee pot, toss some grounds in, and then throw a treat to the dog.

My morning brain isn’t fully operational, so I have to do things like prep my coffee pot ahead of time.

I bet by the time I wake up in the morning that Charlie will be long gone, and daily checks won’t even be on my radar.

And with that happy thought, I take a shower and go to bed.

CHAPTER 3

Charlie

No water.No heat.

The lodge is in worse shape than Nash told me. At least I found a closet full of blankets and one room that didn’t look too dusty. I figured I’d get some sleep and tackle all the issues in the morning. But then I spent the most restless night, tossing and turning and freezing my butt off.

I wake again at 4 a.m. and text Magnolia.

Charlie: I’m regretting all my life choices that led me to this moment. You said I’d have somewhere to stay! I’m frozen solid, and I think I’ve lost three toes.

Miracles truly do happen, because Magnolia wakes up and texts me back. And the reason I know she has just woken up is her usual precise self has about a hundred typos in the short text.

Magnolia: Aer you in the bgi house??? Go stayy in the bunkhouse behin the big house. I gav you the numberr.

Well, that would explain why there wasn’t a keypad on the door. The keypad must be for the bunkhouse, and the spare key must be for the main house.

Say no more. I jump out of bed, grab my bag, and slip on my work boots.

Here I come, bunkhouse. You’d better have a working toilet.

I turn on my phone light—at least I was able to charge that—and walk outside to the back of the lodge. There’s a cobblestone path that leads to the backyard and then a lined gravel path that stretches out into the dark.

There, a short distance away, is a cozy two-story house with a porch light on. Some bunkhouse. It looks so welcoming and quaint.

I sprint across the dark yard and leap onto the porch. Opening my text messages, I find the text with the key code number in it and enter it into the keypad. It unlocks with a happy little beep. I slip inside and lock the door again.

It’s warm in here.

It feels like heaven after nearly freezing to death. Before I even bother turning the lights on, I sprint to the door next to the staircase. The porch light lets in enough light through the big bay window to let me see where I’m going. I get lucky on my first try and find the bathroom through that door. Hallelujah.

After taking care of business and washing my hands for far too long in the warm water, I walk back out into the living room. It’s dark and warm, and I’m tired. There’s a fire glowing in the wood stove, and I wonder if that cranky ranch manager built it for me before he went home.

I stretch out on the couch. It’s a soft fabric with a crocheted blanket thrown over the back. The perfect spot. It’s almost time to get up for the day anyway. I’ll just close my eyes for a quick minute and get warmed up.

I’m not exactly sure how long I’m asleep because it feels like I barely closed my eyes, but I’m woken up rudely by a deep voice.

“Are you trying to smother my dog?”

My eyelids feel like lead, and it’s as though there’s something heavy covering my whole body. Maybe I’m sick. Or still under that mountain of blankets. I pry my eyes open and come face to face with a nose—a wet nose—and a long tongue that sneaks out for a quick taste of my face.

There is a tri-colored dog lying on top of me, and I have my arms wrapped around it.

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