The Darling Songbirds Read online

  Inside the saloon it was dim compared to the bright morning sunlight. Norma grinned at him from her regular bar stool. ‘Boss!’

  ‘You keeping out the riffraff?’ Too late, he noticed that someone else was in the saloon, way over by the bench full of board games. ‘Whoops.’ Not even a tourist – a pretty tourist, at that – wanted to be called riffraff.

  ‘Nah, they’re getting in. And hey, guess who it is.’

  He looked again. The woman was standing straighter now, pretending not to hear them. She kept her eyes out the side alcove window as if there was something more than just the old, closed Golden Spike Café across the parking lot to look at. And she wasn’t just pretty. From this angle, she was a sight closer to beautiful. God, who did she remind him of? She must have driven up from the city or something. Some model, waiting for her photographer to shoot her on the beach. He’d seen it plenty of times before, pretty girls thinking it would be good to get shots of themselves in the water, or leaning against the high cliffs down at Fenton’s Cove, not realising that the fog bank usually made it not only a shoot in bad light, but also a shoot where they’d freeze their dang nipples off. If they stayed till October, maybe. That’s when the sun came out around here, after the summer tourists had given up all hope and left. But this woman, with her honeyed hair and that perfect long nose, those lips that were quirking into something that looked like it was close to a smile, she’d be shivering in her two-piece soon enough.

  ‘Howdy,’ he said politely. If his ball cap had been forward-facing, he would have touched the brim, but as it was he left his arms at his sides.

  She turned to face him, and in that motion his heart dropped to the old floorboards and went right through, straight down to the dust and packed earth below, not stopping until it hit the world’s molten core.

  Adele Darling. Out of freaking nowhere.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Adele had never seen anyone go from ‘exhausted’ to ‘ready to fight’ so fast. She may have seen it on the television, watching boxing shows with old boyfriends. But not in real life.

  The man – Nate, obviously – was wearing a baseball cap backward, and it didn’t look like he’d shaved in at least a day or two. His eyes were stone-coloured – a weathered grey-blue – and his skin was tan, as if he spent time outside pounding things furiously with hammers or maybe just those bare fists of his that were clenched at his side. He wore a ragged black T-shirt with what was probably once a picture of Merle Haggard (she couldn’t fault his taste) but was now almost unrecognisable under a layer of dirt. His jeans, wide at the thighs and ripped at the left knee, were streaked with what looked like oil.

  And he seemed pissed as hell.

  ‘Howdy,’ she said back. As she did, she realised her mouth hadn’t shaped that word since she and her sisters had quit singing. It used to be their thing. Their brand. Up onstage, a round of happy Howdys from all three girls, leaving the stage later with Thanks, y’all! Sure, all the country singers had done it, but they’d meant it. They’d been raised on the music they sang, and a heartfelt howdy was no small thing.

  But now she wished she could take it back, along with her hand, which she’d already impulsively stuck out towards the man.

  She didn’t, though.

  And, eventually, he took it. His hand was dry and wide. At least it seemed he’d washed that part of himself.

  ‘I’m Adele Darling,’ she said.

  ‘I know.’

  She took a quick breath. ‘That’s not the reaction I usually get.’

  ‘Really.’ He sounded like he didn’t believe her.

  It was true, though. Before Norma had sort of recognised her, it had been months. Maybe, now that she thought about it, even a year or more. ‘What’s your name?’ She shouldn’t have had to ask, and it was funny how it made her feel to do so – like she was standing on the wrong foot, about to topple over.

  ‘Nate Houston.’

  What a country name. If she’d met a fellow songwriter with that handle, she would have known he’d made it up. Most songwriters’ real names were Mark and Steve and Joe, but when they crossed into Nashville’s city limits, they changed themselves into Rascals and Coles. Nate Houston, with its Texas-town last name, was a home run of a songwriter name. Not that he would know that, or care.

  ‘You’re the bartender.’

  He dropped her hand like she’d burned him. ‘Yep.’

  He was a sight better looking than the last bartender Adele remembered. Donna had been an institution at the Golden Spike, with her flaming red hair that came from a bottle and an attitude that came from the same place, different shelf. She was legendary for not only being able to drink all the customers under the table but for storing her upper teeth in highball glasses and then forgetting where they were. More than once she’d poured a Gin Fizz with a side of denture.

  Adele smiled in a way she hoped was unthreatening. ‘Tell me more?’

  He shrugged, like he was trying to shake himself into a more casual appearance. ‘Just that. Bartender, handyman, your general gofer. I helped your uncle out with near about everything around here. Sorry, by the way. About your loss.’

  The words sounded forced, as if he wasn’t that sorry at all.

  ‘How long have you been working here?’ Adele tried to stay in one place, keeping her feet still. What she wanted to do was shuffle sideways, maybe get out of his solid-granite stare, but she wouldn’t give this alarming person the satisfaction. She needed his help, needed him to be on her side. It wouldn’t do to lose the one guy who knew how this place worked.

  ‘Long time.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ Why had her uncle hired this guy? Had they been close? At the mention of Uncle Hugh, she didn’t even see the man twitch. Maybe there hadn’t been much love lost for his employer? Although she had no idea who wouldn’t love Uncle Hugh. He’d been such a big personality, trumpeting and blustering and always, always, loving.

  Adele looked at Nate closer. He didn’t look familiar. She would have recognised him if he’d been around when they had lived in town, right? There’s no way she could forget a guy with shoulders like that, even if he had a face (and maybe the personality) of a chisel. ‘I left eleven years ago.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Ah.’ She wobbled. ‘When did you come to town?’

  ‘Ten and a half.’ He shifted his weight. ‘Years.’

  The man made taciturn look chatty. Adele glanced towards Norma, but apart from watching them with big, interested eyes, she just stirred her celery stick in her now-very-low drink. ‘Seems like we missed each other.’

  ‘We sure did.’

  And he sounded so pleased about that.

  ‘Look,’ Adele said, ‘I’m glad you’re here. I just need the lay of the land.’

  ‘So you can sell.’

  Well, of course. It wasn’t like she was going to stay and run this place, and her sisters were in the wind. Molly could barely find her phone often enough to text back, and Lana didn’t answer her phone, ever. For some reason, though, Adele was suddenly loath to admit this to the man. ‘Of course. But I need more info on the property. You understand.’

  ‘Oh, I understand.’ His eyes said something else. And it wasn’t a very polite word.

  Why did he seem so angry with her? Like this was some kind of power struggle? Well, two could play this game, whatever it was. Hadn’t she been the champion at every board game ever made? Sure, Molly had run the pool table (probably still could), but Lana hadn’t bitten the top off the Sorry! piece because she’d been furious about winning. No, Adele always won the board games. She touched the broken piece in her pocket again, reassuringly sharp. ‘So it looks like the place could use a little clean-up.’

  Satisfyingly, she could almost hear his teeth clenching. A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘You’re probably right.’

  ‘Maybe I could help?’

  ‘You had a look out the back yet?’

  ‘No.’ She hadn’t even gotten as far as the st
oreroom yet, let alone the outside patio that led up to the old hotel. ‘Maybe you can show me?’

  This, at least, seemed to please the man. He dipped his head. ‘I would love to show you around.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Hot damn, would he ever show her around. A lot could happen in eleven years. A lot could go wrong. ‘Let’s get started.’

  ‘Great.’ Her voice was cheerful. Light.

  Let’s see how long that would last. ‘Watch your step here,’ he said, slamming open the door to the storeroom. ‘That second step broke a while ago, but we found that the brick works just fine for balance, if you’re careful.’ And if you didn’t step on the left side of it, which would pitch you right off. He didn’t need to mention that. It would be a simple fix, one that would take less than an hour – the step just needed a couple of new boards. That’s why Hugh had put it off, and why Nate had, too. There were always more pressing things needing to be done when the saloon wasn’t open, and there weren’t enough hours in the day to fix the old place up.

  ‘Gotcha.’

  He waved his arm down the row of boxes. ‘Mostly drinks and mixes. Some paper products.’ The only light was a bare bulb hanging directly overhead, low enough that he’d learned to duck when he moved through the room quickly.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ Her voice was soft, and she was looking at the ice machine with what could only be called reverence, as if it were something beautiful, instead of a dented piece of steel machinery that worked most days except the hottest ones.

  ‘Ice machine. Only sometimes it just turns into an ice bucket. Not ideal.’

  Her face didn’t change. Her smile actually pitched upward, and she ran her hand along the side of it. ‘Wow.’

  She was easily impressed.

  Adele laughed. ‘This was our job when we were just kids. We got the ice for Uncle Hugh.’ She pressed her fingers to her cheeks. ‘Silly, huh? We loved it. He made us feel so important. Somehow we thought that without us, he wouldn’t have made it.’

  That was closer to the truth than she knew, Nate would bet, and anger slid up his spine like a hot blade again. ‘Yeah. Anyway.’ He led them through the storeroom’s side door into the courtyard.

  ‘Oh, my.’ Her voice was just a breath behind him.

  Nate crossed his arms and tried to see the space as if he hadn’t seen it in years. He squinted. Yeah, it was all right. Five years ago, he’d talked Hugh into letting him build an arbour over the small yard. He’d trained jasmine and a couple of grapevines over it, and now it was shaded most of the year. In the spring it was a sweet-smelling heaven, and in the summer tourists loved grabbing at the grapes that grew green and slightly sour overhead. Six picnic tables sat lined up, three by two, and some afternoons the whole patio would fill up with tourists and locals alike, drinking beer and shooting the breeze.

  It was fall now, September. Early enough that the fog still hung on most of the day, and late enough that the tourists had packed up their tents and RVs and had trucked on home to wherever they came from so Kiddie Jr could go back to school.

  It was Friday, so it would be busy later. But aside from Norma and maybe Parrot Freddy – another of his favourite customers, a man who went nowhere without at least one of his two parrots on his shoulders – it would be quiet till early evening.

  And now that was proving to be a good thing. He was glad the courtyard was deserted. And he was glad it was still light. Even he could admit that when the fairy lights came on, it looked magical out here.

  She didn’t need to see that.

  ‘I love all that ivy along the fence. It’s wonderful. Like a secret garden. I don’t remember it being there.’

  ‘Yeah. I gotta rip that out. Wharf rats love it.’

  ‘Of course.’ Adele blinked. ‘The grapes!’ She grabbed at one and popped it in her mouth.

  Her gasp and instant frown told Nate that the grapes were still sour. He gave her props for continuing to chew. Lots of people just spat them out onto the ground. ‘And up we go.’ Nate took the back path at a quick clip, throwing open the low gate with a snap. ‘You haven’t been here since the fire, right?’

  He heard her heels skid in the gravel as she put her brakes on. ‘The fire?’

  He knew Hugh hadn’t told the girls about it. The old man had always wanted his nieces to think nothing had changed, that the Golden Spike trio, its saloon and café with the hotel on the rise behind it, was still running the way it had back in the day, years ago, before everything started to crumble. ‘Yeah. I thought you might not know.’ He curled his fingers behind him, still not turning. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  The path wound through head-high greenery, up a steep slope to the rooms in back. ‘Watch your step,’ he said again, even though he probably didn’t have to. The girls would have run up and down this path probably hundreds of times, maybe thousands. The path was the same, but everything else had changed. Forming an upside-down U shape, there were four rooms to the left, four straight ahead, and four on the left. Long porches ran the length of the building, in front of each door. There used to be porch swings, too, one between each room, but only two were safe enough to sit in anymore. At least the garden still looked pretty. Overgrown, but full of roses.

  ‘What happened?’

  What hadn’t? Nate took the quick right that led up to the porch for rooms nine through twelve. ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’ A bald-faced lie. It was bad. He wanted – needed – her to see that for herself. He felt her behind him, so close that if she’d reached forward, she could have grabbed his shirt.

  Lord, he hoped she didn’t do that.

  Up the steps, then onto the long porch. ‘Go ahead,’ Nate said. He pointed at the door to room ten.

  ‘It’s not locked?’

  ‘City girl now, huh? No, there’s no reason for it to be locked.’

  She pushed open the door. ‘Oh.’ She pushed it a little farther. ‘Oh, no.’

  The room was bathed in cerulean light, the blue of the tarps that flapped in the wind overhead. This room had been the nicest one – a huge antique sleigh bed in pride of place, with a matching dresser and long table. There had been a red velvet couch, and two comfy old armchairs had sat in front of the fireplace. The wallpaper had been deep green, and the pictures on the walls had been of the rocks and the ocean, hung in gilt-edged frames.

  Now there was nothing but the stained green carpet, the smell of the sea, and the constant flap flap flap of the tarps above.

  ‘We moved the furniture to a storage place on Route 119. All of it is pretty heavily smoke damaged, but there’s a company who said they could get most of it out if we were willing to pay them all the money in Hugh’s bank account.’ Which wasn’t much. He hoped like hell she knew it wasn’t much.

  Adele stepped farther inside. She spread her arms, palms out, and looked up. Her face was light blue under the tarp’s glow, and she looked like a frozen angel for a minute. Was she listening? Praying? She turned, drawing her hands in front of her stomach. ‘Tell me what happened?’

  ‘The fire department said it was electrical. We knew we had upgrades to do, but Hugh kept putting it off, and I didn’t think it was as bad as it was.’ Guilt twisted in his gut again, for the thousandth time. He’d checked the wiring, twice. He’d climbed up in the attic, and he’d drilled a couple of holes. The wires had looked okay. Old, yeah. But okay. He hadn’t seen any fraying, and when he tested them with the voltmeter, everything had seemed all right. ‘It started in a wall in room nine, and went right up into the roof. Lost most of that.’ He craned his neck. ‘As you can see.’

  ‘When?’

  He thought. ‘It was summer. God, a year ago now. Maybe fourteen months?’

  ‘Fourteen months.’

  Nate shrugged. ‘Well, yeah. Time flies.’ He’d been working on getting reclaimed lumber to start the beam work, but time kept slipping away on other more urgent projects.

  ‘It’s not … so bad, I guess? Wouldn’t take much to fix it,
right?’

  Was she high? Yeah, they could have fixed it, if Hugh had had any money at all, which he hadn’t, by the end. If Hugh had just sold to Nate, Nate would have been able to get a loan to cover at least some of the repairs. But as it was, he had to leave his money in the bank in the hopes Hugh would someday sell to him, instead of investing it in the property like he wanted to. ‘It would take a lot, believe me.’

  She looked up again. ‘What about when it rains?’

  What did she think the tarps were for? ‘This is California. El Niño aside, it doesn’t rain.’

  ‘What about the insurance?’

  He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Yeah. About that.’ Couldn’t they get into this later? Like, over whiskey? Nate, who hardly ever drank – who had a very good reason not to drink – suddenly wanted a Jameson. Neat. Maybe a double.

  Adele’s eyes blazed a light blue heat that had nothing to do with the tarps over her head. ‘He was either insured or not. And since he was running a business and I’m sure that there are municipal codes about these kinds of things, even in Darling Bay, he must have been insured.’

  ‘You’d think that, right?’

  ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘He’d let it lapse. After Gus Treat’s bus ran into the corner of the saloon –’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Don’t worry, he wasn’t hurt. But we had to prop up the western wall with braces and it took Dexter’s construction company a month to get around to finishing the work. The insurance premium doubled. Hugh was just taking a while. To figure it all out.’

  ‘So it burned. While he had no insurance.’

  Nate clapped his hands, causing her to jump. He felt only mildly guilty. ‘Now she’s got it. Shall we move on?’

  She tapped her nose as if she were considering it for a moment. ‘Okay,’ she said finally. ‘Wait. Is room eleven like this, too?’

  ‘Nine, eleven and twelve. All four of them. Exactly the same, except that room twelve still has a working bathroom.’