Page 44 of No More Billionaires

“Okay.” I nodded.

“Great.” Larson scooped up a set of keys from the top of the old television set. “I’ll go first and get the fire going, and then I’ll come back for you.”

“Okay,” I repeated, adding, “Come right back.”

Larson’s eyes crinkled as he grinned down at me. “I will.”

He stepped out into the storm, leaving Ruby and me alone to chat. I accepted the cup of hot tea she offered and sat on the edge of the hearth, taking a sip.

Ugh. It tasted exactly like the house smelled, like inedible flowers. Had she made the tea with potpourri?

Poor lady.

She probably wasn’t quiteall there. I didn’t attempt to drink any more but did enjoy the hand-warming effect of the porcelain cup.

“So… you have a hunting cabin.”

I tried to picture our accommodations for the night. The idea of sharing a small space alone with Larson wasn’t thrilling, but spending the evening in the artificial rose-scented, cluttered domain of a pair of vicious guard dogs didn’t exactly appeal either.

Hopefully the cabin wasn’t even worse. She didn’t use it as an overflow space for her doll collection, did she?

“Do you hunt?” I asked.

“Oh not me—it was Fred’s place when he needed some Man Time,” Ruby explained. “I used to tell him, ‘You go right on. I’ll just have me some quality time with Christian Gray and Mr. Tom Selleck.’ That’s the key, you know, spend some time together, but have your own interests. That’s how you should do with your man, Larson.”

“But—”

“You’re lucky to have a good man to take care of you.” She steamrolled on. “That boy was so worried about you, he offered me a thousand dollars to let you spend the night—course I said, ‘No sir, I won’t take your money.’ Wouldn’t be Christian to turn folks away on a night like this.”

Knowing it would do no good, I still couldn’t resist setting her straight. “Larson doesn’t take care of me. We’re just co-workers. We were on a work trip when we got stranded.”

“Okay, simmer down. You’re a women’s libber, huh? I’m just sayin’—he don’t act like anyco-workerI ever had.”

She cackled, perhaps at some long-ago memory, and sipped from her own tea cup.

“It’s not the worst thing in the world to let someone take care of you, darlin’, as long as you’re takin’ care of him right back. Fred and I took care of each other for sixty-two years before I lost him six months ago.”

Her eyes watered, and I suddenly felt ashamed of myself for having uncharitable thoughts about her decorating sense and tea-making skills.

I reached out and covered one of her soft hands with mine. “I’m so sorry.”

She nodded. “It’s all right, honey. We had a good life together, and I’ll be with him again someday. You have to appreciate the time you have together, though.”

Now she patted my hand. “Appreciate whatyouhave with that boy, hear me?”

At that moment, Larson returned, saving me from any further octogenarian wisdom or potpourri poisoning. He stepped into the room, followed by a cold blast of air, and shook the water from his hair.

I rose from my perch on the hearth.

“Hi. How is… everything?” I asked, giving him a you-know-what-I-mean look.

“Great. I got the fire going, and the place will do fine. Ready to go?”

“Might should grab one of them afghans off the sofa to wrap around yourself, honey,” Ruby suggested. “It gets cold on that ATV. And the rain’s coming down like sheets of ice out there. Wish I could give you a ride myself, but Fred’s old truck won’t make it up the hill no more. I haven’t been out there to tidy up in a couple months.”

I shuddered, wondering how long it had been since the afghan had beentidied up. Judging from the dusty figurines in the room, it had been a few decades.

“Oh no. I’d hate to ruin it. I’m already soaked—a little more water won’t hurt me.”

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