Page 6 of Shelter from the Storm

“Miss Banks?” the man asked.

Gretchen didn’t reply, fear constricting her throat.

“Gretchen?” he added. “Gretchen Banks?”

Gretchen’s gaze traveled from the man to their surroundings as she calculated her chances of escaping. She felt certain she could outrun this guy, who was at least fifty pounds overweight and probably thirty years older than her.

But what if he wasn’t alone? What if there were others, hidden, waiting to capture her and drag her back?

God, she needed to act now.

“Who are you?” she asked, rather than confirming her identity.

Identity…wait. He was using her new name.

“I’m Manny Millholland, Edith’s nephew. She sent me to pick you up. You are Gretchen Banks, yes?”

Gretchen nodded as she took a shaky breath. This new life of hers was beginning in a room she was renting from Edith Millholland, an elderly woman who lived in the tiny town of Gracemont, Virginia. When she let Edith know she’d be arriving this morning by bus, the older woman had offered to send her nephew to “fetch her,” but Gretchen had assured her she could make her own way.

“I am,” she said. Then hastened to add, “I’m sorry for my behavior. It’s impossible to sleep on a bus and I’m kind of groggy.”

Manny smiled widely, easily accepting her excuse for acting like a trapped lion cub. “Nothing worse than trying to sleep while sitting up. I took the red-eye to California once to go visit some college friends a few years back. Didn’t sleep a wink.” Manny gestured to her suitcase. “That your only bag?”

She nodded. She hadn’t dared to sneak out more than just the essentials from her house, taking care to make sure Briggs didn’t notice things were missing.

“Someone sending the rest of your stuff along?”

She was renting the room at Edith’s because she’d gotten a job in Gracemont. As far as Edith was concerned, Gretchen was moving to town permanently, and obviously someone relocating should probably have more than one small suitcase.

“Um, yes,” she lied. “A friend is shipping the rest.”

Once again, Manny accepted her words as the truth, attempting to take her suitcase from her. She stopped him. “Um. I hope you don’t mind but, uh, could I see your ID?”

Manny froze for a second, clearly surprised by the request, but then he reached into his back pocket, pulling out his driver’s license, which did indeed confirm he was Manuel Millholland from Gracemont. “Suppose you can’t be too safe as a woman,” he said genially. “Good for you. Looking out for yourself.”

She was relieved she hadn’t offended him or set off any alarms. She needed the room in his aunt’s house, so she was walking a thin line between protecting herself and not coming off like a lunatic.

“My car is over here.” This time when Manny reached for her suitcase, she let him take it.

“It was nice of Edith to send you, but I told her I was fine getting an Uber to Gracemont.”

Manny waved her words away. “Gracemont is a bit of hike from here. No sense wasting thirty, forty dollars when I’m happy to give you a ride.”

“I appreciate it. I hope I didn’t drag you away from work or anything,” Gretchen said, as Manny placed her suitcase in the trunk. She climbed into the passenger seat, doing one last scan of the parking lot, just in case anyone was watching.

“You didn’t drag me away from anything I wanted to do,” Manny said with a wink. “My aunt owns quite a few properties in Gracemont and the surrounding towns. I work for her as property manager. This trip let me put off fixing a clogged toilet in one of the rental homes over in Henley Falls. So thank you.”

Manny proved himself to be an entertaining storyteller, and the ride to Gracemont passed quickly as he regaled her with all the “need to know” information regarding his aunt Edith, who sounded like quite a character. Gretchen had gotten a similar sense from the emails they’d exchanged, but hearing Manny recount some of the older woman’s hijinks confirmed it. According to Manny, Edith was an amazing cook and baker with a cutting wit, who, despite her advanced years, managed to keep everyone she knew on their toes.

“So you don’t have a car?” Manny asked, curiously.

She shook her head. “No. I’m from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, which, while not a huge city, is large enough that I could get around by using public transportation and rideshares.”

“Ah. Well, I should warn you now, we don’t have any of that in Gracemont.”

Gretchen frowned. She wasn’t surprised to learn there was no public transportation, but she’d been counting on the rideshare option.

“I checked online, and I swore Gracemont offered Uber services.”

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