Путь одарённого. Крысолов. Книга вторая. Часть первая. Юрий Москаленко

Chey had to clear her throat “—that’s so exciting. Where will you take him?”

      “I think we’ll drive to Jackson and have dinner at the Old Milano Hotel.”

      “The one famous for its prime rib?”

      “That’s it.”

      Slumping onto the counter, Cheyenne rested her forehead in her hands. “That’ll be romantic.”

      “Are you bringing me that soup today or tomorrow?” her mother interrupted, calling from her room.

      Cheyenne covered the phone. “Give me a minute!”

      “I might not have a minute!”

      “Is that Anita?” Eve asked.

      After making a sound of exasperation, Cheyenne laughed. “Yeah. Pleasant as always.”

      “I don’t know how you do it. I’ll let you go, but…what do you think I should wear?”

      Cheyenne knew Eve’s wardrobe as well as her own. They were the same size and often shared clothes. Until Cheyenne became an adult and had her own money, she was the only one who’d benefited from the arrangement. But that was slowly changing. Now it was Chey’s turn to give back. Eve had plenty of cute things, but she loved the new dress Cheyenne had found in San Francisco during her last visit. “I’ve got that pretty Caren Templet I got on sale, if you want to wear it. It would go perfectly with your leopard-print shoes and the black jacket with the fake fur.”

      “You’d let me borrow that?” Eve said. “You haven’t even worn it yourself. The tags are still on the sleeve!”

      “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

      “Exactly.”

      She glanced over her shoulder. Her mother was making a fuss. She had to get going. “This is a special occasion.” She fought the lump rising in her throat. “Wear it. You’ll be stunning.”

      “That is so sweet. Thank you, Chey. You are the best friend anyone could ever have.”

      In reality, it was the other way around. If not for Eve, Cheyenne would’ve run away while in high school—or started using, like Presley. The Harmons had tried to befriend Presley, too, but she was already set on her course, had chosen other friends who weren’t a very positive influence on her. Cheyenne owed Eve and her family everything. And it wasn’t as if Joe had been hers to begin with. “I’ll bring it to the inn tomorrow.”

      “Do you think he’ll like it?” Eve asked with a fresh burst of enthusiasm.

      A tear rolled down Cheyenne’s cheek. Angry that she could feel sorry for herself when Eve had such an opportunity, she set her jaw, wiped away the dampness and blinked faster to staunch the flow of more tears. “He won’t be able to resist you,” she said, and believed it with all her heart.

       4

      Friday morning at the coffee shop was usually Cheyenne’s favorite part of the week. She loved sitting around the table with a cappuccino, catching up with her friends. But there was so much on her mind—starting with her mother’s worsening health, the fact that Presley was acting strange and was probably on drugs again, and the knowledge that she’d be without the friends who sustained her through the biggest holiday of the year. Then there was Eve’s impending date with Joe, which, she was sad to acknowledge, upset her more than everything else. With all of that, she couldn’t enjoy herself, even though they had a great turnout today.

      Riley Stinson had shown up with his thirteen-year-old son, Jacob, who’d been born the year they graduated from high school. Riley assured Eve that he was ready to begin the remodel on Monday. Sophia Knox, now DeBussi, had joined them. But thanks to her past and her arrogant husband, who always seemed to be working out of town, she wasn’t particularly liked or trusted. Chey thought Sophia came only to see Ted. They’d once been an item, and it was obvious that there were still feelings between them, but at this point those feelings were mostly negative, especially on Ted’s side. He seemed annoyed that he had to put up with her butting into his group of friends and rarely spoke to her. This added a level of tension that hadn’t existed before, but Sophia had been coming to coffee for over a year. They’d grown used to her presence even if they didn’t quite welcome it.

      Then there was Callie Vanetta, who owned her own photography studio on Sutter Street, and Kyle Houseman, who’d recently been through an acrimonious divorce. Callie and Kyle had become extremely close of late. Cheyenne sensed it and wondered if they were sleeping together, but they certainly didn’t let on if they were. Noah Rackham, a professional cyclist whose twin brother had been killed when the mineshaft caved in on graduation night—Cheyenne would never forget the moment she’d heard that terrible news—and Baxter North, Noah’s best friend, rounded out the group. Without Gail, there were nine. Most were talking and laughing, but today Eve didn’t seem to be enjoying herself any more than Cheyenne was. Although she’d come to the coffeehouse walking on air, thanks to her date with Joe, her mood had wilted as soon as the elegant European couple who owned A Room with a View B and B strode in and sat across from their table.

      “Ignore them,” Callie admonished when she noticed Eve’s preoccupation.

      Eve lowered her voice. “I can’t. They’ve single-handedly destroyed my family’s business.”

      “It’s not illegal to give you some competition,” Baxter pointed out. He’d grown up next door to Noah, and they’d spent most of their time together, but they were nothing alike. In keeping with his profession, Noah was athletic, perfectly toned and always tan. He rode outside nearly every day, including the winter. Baxter, a stockbroker who commuted to San Francisco three or four days a week, was handsome, too, but in a suave, cultured way.

      “They’ve been doing more than that,” Eve muttered. “They’ve been trying to drive me out of business. That’s unethical, even if it isn’t illegal.”

      Cheyenne knew how close they’d come. She wasn’t sure the Harmons would be able to hang on to the inn, despite the remodel and the name change and the plans they’d developed to promote Little Mary’s as a haunted house. “They’ve been undercutting our rates by so much they can’t possibly be making any money,” she explained. “They’re taking a loss every day—a significant one, considering how much they’ve thrown into restoring that place. They’re just hoping to outlast us.”

      “At which point they’ll be the only B and B in town and will recoup their losses,” Eve said bitterly. “You wait and see.”

      “Except they won’t succeed in forcing you to close your doors.” Riley handed his son some money so he could go to the counter and buy one of the giant muffins Black Gold was known for. “You’re about to give people a good reason to stay at your place, even if it costs a little extra.”

      “What?” Eve asked dryly. “A scare?”

      “A piece of Whiskey Creek history.” Ted pushed his to-go cup aside. “Maybe it’ll help that I’ve decided to tackle Mary Hatfield’s murder as the basis for a new book.”

      “Really?” Noah flipped his hair out of his face as he leaned forward. “You’re moving away from fiction?”

      “I’ll keep up with my current contracts. The thrillers are my bread and butter. But in my spare time I’d like to research what happened to Mary. See if there’s a story there. I’ve always been curious about it. If I can find enough information to proceed, maybe it’ll bring some notoriety to the inn.”

      “You’d better work fast,” Eve said.

      He reached over to cover her hand with his. “You’re making lots of great changes. Have some faith.”

      “Everything will work out.” Callie tucked her shiny blond hair behind one ear. “But even if it doesn’t, you’ve done all you can. We’re leaving on Sunday. Don’t let the Russos ruin