Page 9 of Lucky Shot
As if he didn’t hear me, he continues on, adding Windex and paper towels to the cleaning supplies in his hands.
Exhaustion washes over me. The only thing I want to do is shower and sit outside on the patio with a beer. Instead, I push off the counter. “I’ll give you a hand.”
“Nonsense. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
“You’ve been looking forward to cleaning the cabin?” I ask instead of outright calling bullshit.
“A little fresh air. A new audiobook. When you get to be my age, it’s all about embracing the little things.”
“You’re sixty-two.”
“Exactly.”
I shake my head, prepared to give up this fight. What do I care if he wants to clean the place? Maybe he’ll start to feel at home there the more he’s in it. It’s a nice cabin. Closer to the water than my house, with a wraparound porch and a great view of the sunrise over the lake every morning.
Dad heads for the back door, but before he pushes it open, there’s a knock on the front door. I wait to see if it happensagain. Few people come by and even fewer knock instead of walking right in.
“Are you expecting someone?”
He looks from me to the door and back. His mouth hangs open and his expression morphs to something that looks a lot like dread.
“Dad?” I ask again at the same time whoever’s outside finds the doorbell. They ring it three times in rapid succession.
He smiles, then quickly drops all the cleaning supplies onto the counter. “I got it. It’s probably a solicitor or that little girl down the street selling cookies.”
Something is definitely off. He’s acting…weird. Not a novelty for my dad, but stranger than usual.
Dad crosses to the front door quickly, then glances back at me. There’s a hesitation before he pulls it open. I can’t see the woman on the other side, but her voice is loud and bubbly as she says, “Hi. I’m Ruby Madison. Are you Mike?”
There’s something familiar about that cheery voice that has my mind spinning to place it.
“That’s right.” Dad extends a hand.
I take a step closer and that’s when I spot the bright yellow backpack resting on the ground next to the woman. What are the odds that two people I’ve run into today have the same overstuffed, bright yellow bag? My guess is not good. Confirmed when Dad steps back, opening his stance, and the woman from the airport walks past him. She comes to a stop in the middle of the entryway. A tentative smile curves her lips as she looks me over.
“You,” she says, not exactly accusatory but not overly friendly either. You’d think I walked into her house unannounced instead of the other way around.
“You,” I repeat, hands finding my hips. I look past her to my dad who is carefully avoiding my gaze.
“You two have met?” he asks, still not looking at me but in my general direction. He comes to stand between us.
“Yes,” she says at the same time I say, “No.”
Her cheeks flush as she gives me a look that screams “go to hell” even as she somehow smiles politely.
“We had a run-in at the airport,” she tells my dad. Then to me, “I’m Ruby. Sorry about that and the babbling. I realize joking about possible homicide with a stranger was probably awkward. More so when she shows up at your house. I’m not a serial killer, I promise. And I know I’m early. I thought it would take me longer to get my rental car and drive here.”
Early?
“It’s no problem at all,” Dad says, recovering from her incessant babbling quicker than me. “I was just about to head down to the cabin and double-check that everything was ready.”
“Oh. I can come back later if you prefer,” she offers quickly.
Cabin? Come back later?
“No, no. It’s fine, darling.”
She grins, looking instantly relieved. “Thank you. I’m anxious to see it. It looks like an absolute dream in the pictures.”
