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“What? Unless what?”
“Ever heard that old expression, Libby, about there being more than one way to skin a cat?”
She nodded, wondering what in the world he was getting at and why he was smiling all of a sudden when everything seemed so horribly, bitterly bleak. He looked like a damned Cheshire cat, and she wanted to skin him at the moment. “What?” she pressed. “What are you thinking?”
“Do you remember the work I did a while back for Father James O’Fallon when he was organizing his halfway house and homeless shelter?”
Again, Libby nodded. She remembered it well. Doug had volunteered his time as an accountant to help the energetic young priest acquire an affordable facility and to properly set up his charitable organization. That had been years ago, but the place—Heaven’s Gate—was still doing wonderful work by providing food and shelter and hope to those who lacked all three.
“Just what are you getting at, Doug?”
“I drive into the city to visit that place pretty often, you know. Mostly just to chew the fat with Father James. He’s a bigger Cardinals’ fan than I am, and that’s saying something.”
“But what does that have to do with Haven View?” she asked. She had absolutely no idea where he was going with this.
“There’s a new program at Heaven’s Gate,” he said. “It just started a couple months ago. They’re training some of their people to work in the trades. Painting, carpentry, plumbing, things like that.”
Now a little bulb started to glow above Libby’s head as she suddenly saw just where he was going. “All the things we need done here,” she said.
Doug nodded. “Yep. We need the work done and I can promise you that Father James needs fifty thousand dollars. What do you think, honey?”
Libby stood up so fast she nearly fell over. “My God! I think you’re a genius, Doug. That is just inspired. Can we drive downtown right now and talk to him?”
The elderly man laughed. “I guess with that Closed sign on the door we can leave any time we want, Libby. Let me just give the good father a call.”
Across the highway, high above it in the penthouse, David was just getting out of bed at eleven-fifteen. He’d gotten up a few hours earlier to see Libby safely off with Jeff, his reliable chauffeur and assistant and then Jeff had immediately returned to see what else the boss needed done.
“I haven’t had time to go through all the Haven View documents yet,” David told him while trying to stifle a yawn. “Anything I should know about the situation right now? Anything about it that can’t wait a couple of hours?”
Jeff shook his head. “I think it’ll keep. I probably shouldn’t say this, Mr. Halstrom, but you look like you could use a few more hours of sleep.”
He usually maintained a fairly stern demeanor with his employees, but David couldn’t help but laugh at the remark. “I’m getting too old for this,” he said.
“Well, perhaps it’s time to settle down, boss. Or at least to think about it.”
The kid rarely, if ever, made personal observations or remarks. A few days ago such comments might’ve earned him a dark, scathing look and a swift verbal reprimand. Today, however, David felt much too mellow and too downright happy to do anything but say, “Maybe you’re right, kid. Maybe you’re right.”
Now, after a few hours of sleep, he felt somewhat restored, but that little thread of giddiness and gladness was still there inside him. Instead of his habitual Grinch demeanor, he felt almost like a little boy on Christmas morning, and that was some kind of first, he decided, because even when he was a little boy, there wasn’t much giddiness or gladness in him. None, if truth be told.
“Libby, Libby,” he muttered into the mirror while he shaved. “What the hell are you doing to me?”
After he showered and dressed, he punched her number into his cell phone. She’d written it down for him before leaving, but now he couldn’t remember if it was her cell or the front desk at the crummy motel. Either way, there was no answer, which made him feel a little sad and lost for a moment, until feeling sad and lost made him feel like a real jerk.
So, he proceeded to call the Halstrom home office in Corpus Christi. Surely there would be somebody there he could yell at in order to drive this sappiness out of his system.
Once Libby and Doug were downtown, she asked him if he’d mind if they stopped at the newspaper’s office for a minute so she could drop off some film for developing. Leave of absence or not, she’d become incredibly spoiled by the paper’s freebies. Most newspapers had gone completely digital these days, but the St. Louis paper, out of nostalgia perhaps or pure laziness, still maintained a small, cramped and cobwebby darkroom.
Inside the building, she didn’t want to waste time so she tried hard to avoid people she knew—and there were so many of them—as she made her way to the northwest corner of the third floor where her good pal, Hannah Corson, was on duty, looking harried and hassled as always. Libby plucked several film cans from her handbag.
“Can you run these for me, Hannah? No rush, but it’d be wonderful to have the prints in two or three days.”
“Sure. No problem.” Hannah took the film cans and promptly stashed them on a shelf in a little metal box labeled “To Do.” “So, it’s good to see you, Libby. How’s everything going out at the Weary Traveler?”
Libby couldn’t help but laugh. Her coworkers must’ve come up with a few hundred alternate names for the Haven View in the past decade, most of them rather risqué if not downright X-rated. A few brave souls had even come out to spend the night in one of the little cabins, and although they all claimed to have enjoyed the experience, she noticed nobody ever made a return engagement.
“Everything’s going great,” she said, surprised that she actually meant it.
“How ‘bout hanging around and having lunch with me?”
“Thanks, Hannah, but Doug’s waiting for me downstairs.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll give you a call when your prints are ready. Probably day after tomorrow. I’m backed up here for the Sunday edition. You know how it is. I miss your nice, crisp black-and-white shots, Libby.”
Already at the door on her way out, Libby blew her a kiss. “Thanks, Hannah. I owe you. Again.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everybody owes me,” the woman grumbled. “I really should change my name to Hannah Kodak, I guess.”
When she got back to the street, Doug had moved to the driver’s seat of her ancient minivan. “Hop in, Libby,” he said, starting the engine. “Come on. Shake a leg. We’re already ten minutes late.”
She hopped in, and immediately reached for the seat belt to yank it across herself and fasten it tight. Doug had always been a very creative driver, and now that he was in his late seventies, he didn’t seem to feel the rules of the road applied to him personally. She held her breath as they whizzed three blocks north and then two blocks west to the Heaven’s Gate facility.
For all the time Libby had spent at the newspaper’s office these past years, she rarely visited the adjacent area to the north. Little wonder, because there wasn’t much there except crumbling, boarded-up buildings and vacant lots filled with weeds and every kind of trash imaginable. Ever since finishing her book about down-and-out motels, she’d been hoping to be struck by an idea for another book.
It occurred to her now that there was a strange, haunting, even terrible beauty in all this urban decay. There was a burned-out church on a corner that almost seemed to be begging her for a series of photographs. Libby filed the notion in the back of her brain, hoping that once the repairs were accomplished at the motor court, she’d have time to pursue the concept.
Doug whipped the minivan into a small gravel parking lot, hit the brakes and skidded to a stop, then turned off the engine. “Here we are, Libby, my girl. Let’s go. We don’t want to keep Father James waiting all afternoon. He’s a very busy guy.”
As she climbed out of the vehicle, she remembered to check her cell phone for messages. Good grief. There were a half-dozen calls, all of them from David. She didn’t know whether to feel flattered or alarmed. Well, emergency or not, he’d simply have to wait until she met with Father James. The fate of the Haven View seemed to be hanging in the balance of this quickly arranged meeting. She couldn’t allow anything to distract her.
Not even David.
Six
After their meeting and a brief tour of Heaven’s Gate, Father James walked Libby and Doug out to the parking lot. The priest had listened intently to their proposal and seemed to be fascinated by it even though the fine points hadn’t been worked out yet. In all honesty, the plan was barely past the light bulb over the head stage, but Libby and Doug had been eager and enthusiastic in their presentation, if not burdened by the details. Obviously the fifty thousand dollars provided Father James with more than a little incentive to take it under consideration.
“I’ll present it to my board of directors when we meet early next week,” he told them. “And I expect they’ll be equally intrigued and enthusiastic.”
Libby tried hard to hide her disappointment at the delay. “I don’t suppose you could do it any sooner.”
He gave her a patient, practically angelic smile, one he must’ve used a hundred or more times a day in this facility, and then he shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“That’s plenty soon,” Doug said. “And remember, both of you, we still have to present this plan to Elizabeth, and Lord only knows—pardon me, Father—how she’ll respond. She can be downright cranky and stubborn as all get-out sometimes.”
Libby rolled her eyes.
Father James gazed heavenward a moment, then said, “Well, I’ve been known to get cranky and stubborn myself. If this is meant to be, my friends, it will happen. Perhaps we should simply leave it at that for the time being.”
Easier said than done, Libby thought on the drive home. It wasn’t going to be so easy for her to put the brakes on her big plan, even if only until next week. Now which one of them was going to make a heartfelt presentation to Aunt Elizabeth, she wondered.
Afternoon westbound traffic was fairly light, so she used her right hand to flip open her cell phone which now registered two additional calls, both of them from David. Libby couldn’t help but smile. Persistent fellow, her handsome architect, wasn’t he? And, oh my, she thought, how she adored it.
Doug pointed to her phone. “That wouldn’t be your new suitor, would it, Libby?”
She nodded.
“I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
Libby laughed. “Well, as Father James would say, All in good time, my dear Doug. All in good time.”
As it turned out, Libby didn’t have to return David’s calls. He was waiting at the Haven View—arms crossed and one hip lodged against his Jag—when she and Doug got back.
Libby’s heartbeat immediately picked up speed. How was it possible, she wondered, that this man looked better, more handsome and even more desirable every time she laid eyes on him? At this rate, she would surely go into cardiac arrest at the mere sight of him in a week or so. She could only hope that she caused a similar, significant drumbeat inside his hardcarved chest.
By the time she’d parked the minivan in back of the office, he was standing next to the driver’s side door, reaching out to open it.
“Hey,” she said, sliding from behind the wheel and practically into his arms. “I was just going to call you.”
“So you got my calls?”
She laughed. “I got them all. Yes. They very nearly melted my cell phone.”
“I missed you.”
Well, jeez, now, in addition to her phone, he was melting her heart. “I’m glad,” she said softly. “I missed you, too. Hey, I want you to meet somebody very special to me.”
By now, Doug had climbed out of the passenger side of the van and was walking toward them, looking once again like a grinning Cheshire cat.
“Doug, I’d like you to meet David,” she said. “David, this is Doug, the very best father in the world.”
They shook hands, and Doug immediately said, “I’ve heard a lot about you, young man. Libby tells me you designed that gorgeous building across the street.”
David lowered his head and consulted the pebbles beneath his feet for a moment before he said, “Yes, sir.”
“Well, let me congratulate you.” Doug angled his head northward. “She’s a real beauty.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll leave you two alone. I never did finish up today’s mail in the office so I guess I better get to it.” Doug kissed Libby’s forehead, then turned to walk away.
“Nice guy,” David said softly.
Libby nodded. “Yes, he is.”
“I really did miss you today.” He reached out to touch the back of his fingertips to her cheek.
There was a slightly yearning quality to his voice that Libby had never heard before, and judging from the expression on his face, he really had missed her.
“Good,” she said. “I’m glad you did.”
“Come back to the hotel with me,” he said, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her neck. “We can play in the hot tub again, and then see what else the kitchen can come up with for our dinner.”
Libby made a little humming sound deep in her throat. “That sounds divine, but…”
He lifted his head. “But what?”
“I just hate to leave Doug alone this evening.”
“Is he ill?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. The man’s healthy as a horse. It’s just that we’re working on this wonderful idea, and there’s so much to discuss.”
“What sort of idea?” he asked.
“Well…”
Just then Doug walked around the rear corner of the office, jingling a set of car keys in his hand. “I’m off to see Elizabeth now, Libby. I’ll probably stay there and have supper with her while I tell her about today. If you don’t need me back here, I’ll just go on home afterward, honey.”
“Give her my love,” Libby said. “And let me know what she says, Doug, will you? As soon as you can.”
“Will do.” He appeared only a bit stiff and awkward as he angled into the driver’s seat of his old Pontiac. “Nice meeting you, David,” he said just before turning the key in the ignition.
“Hope to see you again, sir,” David responded before he smiled down at Libby. “Looks to me like somebody’s a free woman this evening.”
The free woman laughed, a luscious sound if ever David had heard one, then took his hand to lead him around the office and into the center of the pebbled drive. The place was deserted. As it should have been, David thought.
Libby made a broad and sweeping gesture with her arm.
“Pick a cabin, my dear. Any cabin,” she said. “Or choose a number between one and six.”
“What?”
“Choose a cabin, David. We’ve got the whole place to ourselves.” She grinned up at him. “My personal choice would be Three, since it’s my lucky number, not to mention the fact that the shower in there still works pretty well.”
David decided that his brain was probably operating inefficiently because his bloodstream was shunting its contents below his waist at the moment. She wanted to make love here, in this squalor, rather than in the silk sheets and wall-to-wall splendor of the Marquis across the street? Make love here? Was she nuts?
Maybe the better question from David’s point of view was could he even perform here under the circumstances, knowing he was making a concerted effort to acquire the crummy Haven View in order to tear it down.
Early this afternoon, after going through the paperwork, he’d sent Jeff, in the guise of a real-estate investor, to pay a visit to Libby’s aunt Elizabeth in the rehab facility, where he had offered the woman whatever price she wanted for the place. “Name your price,” Jeff had told her mere seconds before the old lady called the front desk to have this shady weasel escorted from her room.
Having struck out with Aunt Elizabeth, David then opted for plan B, and had directed Jeff to prepare a statement for the municipal council, requesting this acreage to be officially designated as blighted, and thus eligible for condemnation and immediate demolition.
The proposal to the municipal council also included the Halstrom’s promise to develop the condemned property, its subsequent usage to be determined at a later date. Jeff was probably working on the document right this minute, dotting i’s and crossing t’s.
David let go of a long sigh. It wasn’t that he didn’t know he was working at cross purposes with Libby, but suddenly his deception hit him quite physically. He could feel his erection withering at the mere thought of Libby’s reaction to this news. She’d hate him for it. And the sad fact was that she’d have every right to hate him.
“I need to make a quick call,” he said, reaching for his phone, then flicking it open and hitting Jeff’s number. “This will only take me a minute.”
She was still smiling when she said, “Well, you better make it fast, mister, or else I reserve the right to choose the cabin.”
