Page 68 of Wounded Cowboy
“I’ll be happy to send you a detailed schedule for the girls, Claudia,” Spring said, trying to convince himself that he’d made the right decision.“Can you start first thing on Monday?”
“Of course,” Claudia replied, smiling.“Now, when we spoke on the phone, you mentioned housing was included with the position?”
Spring nodded.“You’ll be living in one of our new guest cabins. It’s one bedroom, one bath, and fully furnished with all the amenities, including Wi-Fi and a full kitchen.”
“That sounds great,” Claudia said.“Now, when can I meet the girls?”
“They’re off picking apples with my parents right now,” Spring said apologetically.“Let me take you to lunch in town. My sister and brother-in-law run a great diner. April and Abby should be back from their outing by the time we return from lunch.”
“That works for me,” Claudia declared with a nod.“Now, I have a few more questions for you…”
As they continued discussing the terms of Claudia’s employment, including her pay, days off, and specific duties, an unexpected pang of sadness squeezed Spring’s chest at the thought of someone else occupying the cottage Kelsey had called home.
∞∞∞
The 405 South near the Getty Center
One month later
On the last Saturday of September, Kelsey found herself stuck in stop-and-go traffic on her way to the beach. A thick haze of smog cast a weird grayish-brown pall over the sky. And it was ninety freaking degrees outside.
Back home in Montana at this time of year, autumn would be starting. The air would be crisp and the sky a deep blue, and the trees would blaze yellow and red with fall colors. There might even be a chance of snow.
She longed to roll down her car windows and breathe in fresh air, but the exhaust fumes from the endless line of cars made that impossible.
“Why do they call it ‘rush hour,’ when the traffic is this bad all the freaking time?” she muttered under her breath, glaring at the clock on her dashboard.
She’d left her apartment in Sherman Oaks ninety minutes ago, and she wasn’t even halfway to the coast yet.
Today was her birthday, and after talking to her parents and various friends on the phone, she’d decided to treat herself to an afternoon of sun and surf.
Bad idea.
After another hour that felt like an eternity, Kelsey finally arrived at the beach.
However, her joyful anticipation had soured during the two-and-half hour freeway ordeal.
Even worse, everyone else in L.A. had come here, too, and there were no parking spots. Every beachside lot and city parking garage was crammed full, and rows of cars lined every curb where parking was legal.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she groaned as she slowly circled the city blocks closest to the beach for the umpteenth time.
There were more people at this beach today than in the entire state of Montana… or at least, that was what it felt like.
She remembered how astonished she’d been to learn that there were nearly ten times as many people in L.A. County as in her home state.
Back then, she’d thought that was a cool fact. The past four weeks had taught her that cramming that many people into one metro area was aterribleidea.
Ahead of her and behind her, other cars were on the same fruitless quest for parking.
At last, someone pulled away from the curb right in front of her.Hallelujah!
But as she pulled in, she noticed the parking space was guarded by an old-style parking meter that only took coins. No problem. Most places in L.A. had an app or a website for paying parking meters online.
She pulled out her phone and saw the battery was critically low.Crap. How did I forget to charge my phone? And who carries cash anymore? Especially quarters?
She scanned the street and spotted an ice cream shop at the end of the street. With a huff, she decided to run over there, buy herself a quick treat, and get change for the meter when she paid by card.
When she arrived at Pacific Scoops Artisanal Ice Cream, she saw a huge queue stretching down the sidewalk.
