Page 32 of Making New Plans

“Are you really an architect?” he suddenly asked.

I stopped short, glancing back over my shoulder. “Yes, I am.”

“Back in Boston?”

What was he getting at? “Yes.”

He huffed. “Look, dude, I’m not trying to rag on you or pump you for gossip. I was just wondering.”

Oh. “Well, then, yeah, I’m an architect in Boston. I work for a big firm there, designing office buildings, apartment complexes, and the occasional skyscraper or entertainment building. Actually, I just submitted plans for a small theater there.”

Carter nodded, still busy with the shelves. Maybe it was easier to talk to me if he didn’t have to look at me.

“Do you like it? The drawing and stuff?” he asked.

One of the rotating fans got stuck, and I adjusted it, mulling over my answer. “Yeah, I guess. It’s what I went to school for, and I’m good at it.”

Carter grunted. “Houses are probably too low-key for you, huh?”

A memory pinged in the back of my mind. “No, I just signed on with a firm that designed bigger buildings.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why? Have you thought about being a contractor?”

He aimed a sideways glance at me. “Yeah. Maybe. Someday, you know.”

“Sure.” I shuffled backward toward the stairs. “Well, if you ever want my expertise, you know where to find me.”

“And the next time you and Chloe try to break the lodge, you know where to find me,” he shot back.

“A flannel convention?”

He busted out a laugh and waved me off. Chest feeling a bit lighter, I came upstairs to find Chloe in the middle of saying goodbye to a pair of middle-aged women. Something and something Curtis, I think. I’d paid more attention to the employee records than I had the guest list. Too many names to remember. I had no idea how Chloe did it all. Maybe that’s why she had an encyclopedia-sized planner and a Grand Canyon-sized reservoir for caffeine.

The moment the women were out the front door, Chloe’s smile dropped, and she rubbed her temples.

My chest tightened again. I walked toward her and put on a chipper tone of voice. Or at least as close as I could get. “What’s next, boss?”

She gave me a half-smile. “That was the last checkout, so I need to flip the rooms as quickly as possible for the check-ins. I have less time than usual since I let people check out late today.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

Her cheeks colored a bit. “Um, some whipped cream.”

I couldn’t help grinning. “Tell you what, I’ll start on the rooms. You grab a snack. We’ll meet in the middle.”

“Wait, are you sure? You know what to do?”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my learning skills or your teaching skills?”

She grimaced. “Touché. Go for it then. Use the checklists and—”

“I know, I know. Go on.” I shooed her toward the kitchen.

She hurried away with a grateful smile, and I tackled the rooms. I tried to put my mind on autopilot to keep from thinking about the fact that I was cleaning other people’s rooms. I wore the rubber gloves and everything, but I’d never be okay with this part. Maids didn’t get paid enough. And I wasn’t getting paid at all.

Why did I volunteer to do it then? Well, we were in the middle of an emergency. Desperate times and whatnot. Nothing to do with Chloe’s usually luminous blue eyes dim with stress or that smile struggling to stay up.

Nope. I was here to do a job. I was here by force. And in three weeks, I wouldn’t be here, period.

The thought didn’t bring me the comfort I thought it would. Instead, my memory dug out a picture of the pain on Chloe’s face every time we talked about the future of the lodge. A worm of regret wriggled in my conscience.

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