Redemption Bay. RaeAnne Thayne

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СКАЧАТЬ could expend so much effort and energy into making his property into a restful oasis of blooms and trailing vines and sturdy, beautifully placed trees.

      A mystery she would try to puzzle out another day, she told herself. She had a chicken breast to grill—after she dealt with whatever stick he had up his hindquarters today. Dealing with irate citizens was part of her description as mayor, like it or not.

      “How can I make things better for you this evening?” she asked politely.

      “How long have you had your name on the door at the mayor’s office in city hall?” he demanded.

      “Six months, Mr. Twitchell.” Six difficult, stress-filled months. Why, again, had she ever thought this whole mayoral gig was a good idea? Oh, yes. Because she loved this town. Perhaps not every single inhabitant, though.

      “Six months.” Darwin scowled. Or maybe he was beaming with happiness and glee. It was hard to tell, since all his facial expressions looked the same. “And how long have I been warning you about that bridge over the Hell’s Fury?”

      The expression was a scowl, then. Not really a surprise.

      She forced a smile. “Just about every week for the past six months, Mr. Twitchell.”

      “I don’t know why I waste my breath. You obviously don’t care, since you haven’t done a damn thing about it since you’ve been in office.”

      She tried not to let that sting, especially considering all the things she had accomplished in six short months. He was a lifelong resident of this town, one of her constituents, and she owed it to him to try to address his concern. As much as she wanted to hug his adorably grumpy-faced dog and walk away.

      “The public works director is aware of the problem. We’ve talked to the state about it. It’s on the list. We’re waiting on a couple of grants and appropriations to come through. When that happens, it will be at the top of our list, I promise you.”

      “When will that be?”

      “I’m afraid I can’t tell you exactly. As I’m sure you’re aware, it costs a great deal of money for that kind of project. Right now the city cupboard is a little bare for a major infrastructure repair.”

      “If this were Shelter Springs, we would have had a dozen new bridges by now. My nephew, the mayor, would never let things go this long.”

      She had heard the same argument plenty of times over the past six months. According to Darwin, Mayor Martin of Shelter Springs could walk the entire length of Lake Haven without getting the cuffs of his tailored slacks damp.

      “Now, Mr. Twitchell, we have our challenges, yes. But the people of Shelter Springs have their own.”

      She would like at least one of their problems—more tax revenue than they knew what to do with.

      Instead, her downtown was dead and most of the available property had been tied up for years by one man.

      Ben Kilpatrick.

      Just the thought of him made her grind her back teeth and grip Rika’s leash a little more tightly.

      “You’d better do something about that bridge or there’s going to be trouble, mark my words,” Darwin grunted.

      “I appreciate the advice, Mr. Twitchell,” she lied.

      “And another thing. Garbage collection. That darn truck knocked over my can again for the third week in a row! Does that fool driver even know how to operate the thing?”

      Apparently the mayor, by virtue of the office, was responsible for every single thing that went on within the city limits. Garbage collection was run by the county, as Mr. Twitchell fully knew.

      “It might have something to do with the slope at the end of your driveway. It’s a little tricky to set the can down just so.”

      “I don’t know why we ever had to switch over to those stupid automated trucks. Who can even pull those big cans out to the street, unless they’re a superhero or something? More trouble than it’s worth, you ask me.”

      Who would ever be dim enough to ask Darwin Twitchell anything, unless he or she wanted to spend the rest of the day listening to his lengthy litany of complaints?

      She drew in a deep breath, focusing on the scent of pine and lake instead of acrimony. Darwin was an object of pity. He had little to do but sit around and stew about everything wrong in his world, both globally and locally. The challenge of righting a tipped-over can probably represented all the things he could no longer do because of his age and physical limitations.

      McKenzie forced a smile, trying her best to inject a little genuine compassion in it. “Next time the truck tips over your can when it’s done taking your garbage, please leave it. I’ll be happy to pick it up for you and roll it back to the house.”

      He harrumphed at that and she knew he would never consider leaving his can tipped over all day, waiting until she could get to it. He was so particular, he raked the gravel out on his parking strip if anybody so much as left a bike tire trail through it.

      “Just find a damn garbage truck driver who knows what the Sam Hill he’s doing. That’s all I ask. Nobody cares anymore about doing a good job. They’re all so busy on their computers, sending out nekked pictures of their whatsit.”

      She almost laughed aloud—why didn’t anybody send her nekked pictures of their whatsit?—but she managed to contain it. “I’ll talk to the county public works supervisor and ask him to remind the garbage collectors to be a little more careful.”

      “You do that. And take care of that bridge, too!”

      He gripped his cane and made a sharp gesture to Petunia, who had the effrontery to be fraternizing with the enemy—or at least the enemy’s cinnamon poodle—then shuffled back up his driveway with the dog trotting behind him.

      She sighed and continued on her way. She wouldn’t let one cranky old man ruin her enjoyment of this beautiful summer evening.

      When she reached her lakeside house, however, she forgot all about Darwin and his perpetual complaints when she discovered a luxury SUV with California plates in the driveway of the house next to hers, with boat trailer and gleaming wooden boat attached.

      Great.

      Apparently someone had rented the Sloane house.

      Normally she would be excited about new neighbors but in this case, she knew the tenants would only be temporary. Since moving to Shelter Springs, Carole Sloane-Hall had been renting out the house she received as a settlement in her divorce for a furnished vacation rental. Sometimes people stayed for a week or two, sometimes only a few days.

      It was a lovely home, probably one of the most luxurious lakefront rentals within the city limits. Though not large, it had huge windows overlooking the lake, a wide flagstone terrace and a semiprivate boat dock—which, unfortunately, was shared between McKenzie’s own property and Carole’s rental house.

      She wouldn’t let it spoil her evening, she told herself. Usually the renters were very nice people, quiet and polite. She generally tried to act as friendly and welcoming as possible.

      It СКАЧАТЬ