before a stiff fall wind took down twenty feet of unstable slats. Digging postholes was not Dani’s favorite task, but she made her erratic income by doing things that were nobody’s favorite.
So Dani dug the hole, sank the post, and poured the concrete around it. While it set, she added nails to loose boards. At least she was not building a fence in the high heat of summer, and Sammie’s fence would now last at least five more years—longer if she let Dani come back and replace the weakest slats. Then Sammie asked her to fix a window that did not close properly and clean out a bathroom drain.
Sammie did enough business with Dani to know she liked to be paid in cash. Dani issued receipts for everything she did, whether it was handy work or troubleshooting computers. Nothing was under the table. Dani just thought it was easier not to make unnecessary trips to the bank, and Hidden Falls businesses had stopped taking third-party checks a long time ago.
Henry handed her a few dollars in change. “You going to get out on the lake with that tomorrow?”
“Before dawn.”
“Do you still throw everything back?”
“I watch the limits.”
Henry shook his head. “I like to eat what I catch.”
The store owner was at the door, flipping the sign to C LOSED. Dani realized she was the final customer. She tossed her long dark braid over her shoulder and carried the reel out to her mud-splattered Jeep.
What Dani did not tell Henry was that she was headed straight out to Whisper Lake. She would be on the water before dawn because she would be at the cabin before dark. The cooler in the back of the Jeep held food for several days. The cabin that had belonged to her grandparents had no plumbing or electricity, but that never bothered Dani. The bed was old, but the quilts were warm. Dani had sealed the doors and windows against drafts, and she could always lay a fire if she got cold. The rustic conditions were a small price to pay for the thrill of watching the sky blaze toward a new day, surrounded by acres of blue water, the depths teeming with freshwater fish.
With her mind’s eye more focused on the lake view than the road out of town, Dani almost didn’t see him. She was fifty yards down the road before she realized what her brain had failed to register immediately. Dani gave the wheel a swift turn, pulled to the shoulder, and slowly backed up. When she was certain, she turned off the ignition, got out, and marched toward him.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she said.
Quinn seemed in no hurry.
“Why not?” he said. “I’m on my way home. Practically there.”
“You’re still a mile away. In an hour you’re supposed to be the guest of honor at the town ball.”
Quinn laughed. “Town ball. Clever.”
“Are they making you wear a penguin suit?”
“’Fraid so.” Quinn looked at his watch. “I have to present myself in forty-seven minutes and fourteen seconds.”
“Which is precisely why I didn’t expect to find you out here at this hour.” Dani scratched under her braid.
“I admit to stopping along the way,” Quinn said.
“The ridge overlooking the river?”
Quinn nodded. “The trees are spectacular right now. The reflection of the colors in the river is breathtaking. Tomorrow will be too late for today’s view. I wanted one last moment of peace before the onslaught of attention tonight.”
Dani and Quinn understood each other on that point.
“Get in the Jeep,” she said. “I’ll drop you off. That should buy you fifteen minutes.”
They got in the car, and Dani started the engine.
Quinn furrowed his brow. “You don’t look any closer to being ready than I do.”
“I’m completely ready for where I’m going,” Dani said. “The cabin is calling my name.”
“Oh.”
Dani glanced at Quinn, who looked out his window. She pulled out onto the road. If she hadn’t stopped, she wouldn’t be having a conversation that was rapidly turning awkward.
“Quinn,” she said,
Marjorie Pinkerton Miller