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apologized and turned it down a notch. “So are you comfortable enough in the garage?” he asked. “I’m fixing to get a window unit put in there so you don’t roast to death. I’ll have Judd get right on that.”
    â€œThanks,” I said. “That’d be great.”
    â€œWell, you just let me know if there’s anything else you need. I want you to feel at home here.”
    I smiled at him and he smiled back. I hadn’t had many expectations of my new boss—I’d learned that expectations weren’t terribly useful—but it was a relief to find he was reasonably normal, as far as first impressions went. It was a quick ride to Dane’s, a rustic, tin-roofed cabin that sat across the road from the river.
    â€œDane’s?” I said. “This is yours, too?”
    â€œYeah. Not much to look at,” Crete said, parking the truck, “but we do all right.”
    Two gas pumps sat out front, and various hand-painted signs listed the offerings within: Breakfast. Canoe rental. Shower. Bait. We stepped inside, the plank floors creaking, and I smelled bacon and burnt coffee. The restaurant occupied most of the right side of the building, and I saw Judd in the cramped kitchen scrambling eggs. Crete gave me a tour while we waited for our food, rattling off more details than I could keep track of. His family had built the store in the 1920s, and his dad had passed it on to him. They sold camping and fishing equipment, groceries, firewood, and an assortment of jams and vegetables canned fresh from the farm. The outdoor shower cost two dollars for tourists but was free to locals who had just come off the river. Blue laws ordained that certain items couldn’t be sold on Sundays, he explained, but that was ignored unless a preacher or member of law enforcement happened to be in the store. Certain people would come in to buy a bottle of White Lightning, a homemade grain alcohol, but it had to be kept out of sight in unlabeled bottles because, technically, it was illegal to sell alcohol in grocery or convenience stores.
    â€œWe won’t need you over at the farm full-time,” he said. “I thought if it was okay with you, we might have you help out over here a bit. We get real busy when tourist season hits, lots of folks wanting to float the river.”
    â€œSure,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Whatever needs doing.” We sat at a picnic table on the outdoor patio to eat, the morning sun glaring in our eyes. I could see a rickety old school bus and a couple of boat trailers out behind the main building, and a large metal shed. Beyond that, nothing but woods.
    â€œI don’t mean to throw too much at you at once,” he said, studying my face. “But once you get used to it, I think you’re gonna like it here.”
    I doubted I’d ever like Henbane, but that didn’t really matter. My contract was for two years. I could make do for that long. And when I was done, I’d have enough saved to move someplace and start over on my own. Hopefully enough to start taking classes, figure out what I wanted to do.
    â€œMore coffee?” His hand skimmed mine as he reached for my mug.
    â€œSure, thanks.” I brushed toast crumbs from my lips and glanced up to see him looking at me. I didn’t look away and neither did he.
    â€œDamn,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I don’t mean to stare, it’s just … You’re a beautiful girl, you know it? Pictures don’t do justice.”
    He flashed a confident smile and got up to fetch the coffee. It was wholly unprofessional, I knew, for my boss to talk about my looks, but nothing at Dane’s was really what you’d call professional. And part of me, the part that always acted without thinking, couldn’t help liking what he’d said.

Chapter 3
    Lucy
    Summer had officially arrived, even if the calendar said otherwise: School was