Home to Montana. Charlotte Carter

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      Chapter Three

      Nick pulled open the drapes on the sliding glass door in the motel room. On the second floor at the back of the building, it had a small balcony and an angled look at the diner and a clear view to the west. A perfect place to watch the sun go down, and with the drapes open he wouldn’t feel like the walls were closing in on him.

      He turned back to scan the room. A queen-size bed covered with a forest-green quilt. Two pinewood end tables and a matching low chest of drawers. A small flat-screen TV. Pretty standard motel fare but he’d stayed in worse. Like an eight-foot by eight-foot prison cell.

      “What do you think, Rags? Home sweet home?” For a few days. Maybe a couple of weeks. It couldn’t hurt to stay put for a while.

      Without responding, Rags did his sniffing thing. In every new spot they’d stopped, the dog had to investigate the area thoroughly. Nick had no idea what Rags expected to find, but he sure was looking hard for it. Maybe he was searching for the trail of the family who had left him stranded in Colorado.

      Nick knew where his own family was, what was left of it anyway. He had no plans to track his father down again.

      He should have known better than to try.

      His old man had never had time for him. And Nick had learned to keep his distance when his dad was drinking. At least until he was old enough and big enough to hold his own. After that, his old man had left him alone.

      Opening the sliding glass door, he stepped out onto the balcony. Rags followed him and sat down, peering across the parking lot at the diner. The faintest hint of hamburgers on the grill drifted on a light breeze.

      Nick wondered which of the upstairs rooms belonged to Alisa. She sure hadn’t wandered far from home. And where was her son’s father? He hadn’t seen any sign of a husband around the place. Maybe he worked somewhere else.

      Or maybe he’d moved on. She wasn’t wearing a ring.

      None of your business, Carbini.

      “Come on, Rags. Let’s get our gear from the truck and then we’ll go looking for some regular dog food for you and a regular leash instead of that ol’ rope I’ve been using.”

      Rags whined.

      “Yeah, I know. You’d rather run around on your own.” He shooed the dog back inside and closed the door. “But Mama says that’s a no go. She doesn’t want you running off her customers.” He didn’t think Alisa wanted Rags playing with her son either. He’d guess Greg would think otherwise.

      * * *

      The Thursday night crowd at the diner had thinned by eight-thirty.

      “Good night, Alisa.” Larry Cornwall, the high school football coach, tipped his cap as he was about to leave. “I’m still waiting for you to say yes to going to the Harvest Festival with me.”

      She shot him a grin. “Larry, you know how busy I am on Saturday nights.” He’d been asking her out ever since he moved to town three years ago. For reasons that annoyed Mama, Alisa had always refused his invitations.

      “The festival’s a good cause. Football team needs your support.”

      “I’ll make sure to get a check in the mail to you soon.”

      Frowning, he shook his head. “One of these days I’ll wear you down, and you’ll say yes just to get rid of me.”

      She laughed. “Have a good evening, Larry.”

      Alisa waved goodbye to him. She turned to straighten the menus and slipped them into place beside the cash register.

      “I’m going to call it a night,” she said to Jolene, who was working the evening shift. An attractive woman in her thirties with two children and a husband who worked for the state highway system, Jolene was unfailingly chipper. In addition to her, Tricia, a sweet teenager who worked part-time, was waiting tables. The two of them could handle the thinning crowd.

      “Time to put Greg to bed, huh?” Jolene asked.

      “Working the number of hours I do, bedtime is about the only chance I get to spend with him.” A reality that gave her a large dose of guilt, yet she couldn’t seem to figure out how to change the situation. She couldn’t leave Mama to run the whole diner. There had been signs lately that her mother’s arthritis was beginning to bother her.

      “Whatever you’re doing, he’s a great little kid. Smart as a whip, too.” She dumped out the coffee from the old pot and started to make a new one.

      “I chalk that up to being very lucky, not to my parenting skills.” Being a single parent had many disadvantages including the lack of enough time to give her child the attention he deserved. Of course, all of the staff and most of the regulars doted on him. But she wasn’t sure that made up for her inattention. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Say hello to Fred for me.”

      “Will do.” Jolene shot her a bright smile. “And if you’re asking, I think Larry would be a good catch for some woman. He’s good-looking. Has a decent job.”

      “Guess I’m just not that woman.” As nice as Larry was, she hadn’t felt any spark with him. Without a spark, there couldn’t be love. She wasn’t going to settle for less than the real deal. If that meant she’d never have the kind of relationship her mother had had with Papa, so be it.

      As Alisa took the stairs to the second floor, she removed the band that held her ponytail and shook her hair loose. Her aching feet loudly announced it had been another long day. Maybe she ought to promote Jolene to shift manager and hire an additional waitress. Then she could take on some of Mama’s load in the kitchen.

      The fly in the ointment would be the increased employee salaries they would have to pay. The profit margin for a restaurant was slim under the best of circumstances. These days the increasing price of food from the wholesaler kept the diner on a financial razor’s edge.

      The second-floor living quarters had three bedrooms, a cozy sitting room with a television rarely watched by anyone except Greg, a small kitchen and eating area. Considering they had СКАЧАТЬ