minutes. Usually less.
But here…forty dollars a session?”
“I think that’s fair. You’ll be totally freelance. I won’t ask
for a cut. But there’s no way I can pay more than fifteen dollars an hour for
the office work, and the hours will be part-time.”
“That’s fine,” Grace said. Fifteen dollars an hour was a hell
of a lot more than zero. And more than she’d make as a grumpy waitress. She knew
that from experience.
“Great!” Eve said, reaching out to shake Grace’s hand again.
“I’ll do a background check, so I hope that’s okay. With all this equipment and
so much seasonal employment, I make it standard practice.”
“Of course.” In L.A., a criminal check was assumed. And Grace’s
record was surprisingly clean, or it had been since she’d turned eighteen,
anyway. But now… Oh, God. She hoped she’d been able to appease Scott. What if
he’d changed his mind since she’d called him? What if he—
“Thank you so much,” she made herself say. “When do you want me
to start?”
“How about Monday? Come in at nine. I can’t always promise you
a lot of hours, but I’ve got an unexpectedly busy week, so can you stay until
five?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Grace left feeling…excited.
Maybe Wyoming wasn’t so bad. Maybe she’d have good luck while
she was here.
Maybe the man she’d left behind in L.A. had been the last
stupid mistake of her life.
CHAPTER FIVE
O R MAYBE NOT .
She walked around town for a while, avoiding the tourist area
for streets lined with lower-end shops, hoping to find a used sporting-goods
store where she could buy a cot. Though she finally found a store, apparently
used camping gear was in hot demand here in the summer, just outside the
boundaries of Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. The only cot she’d found had
been way over her ten-dollar budget.
In the end, she left with a cheap camouflage sleeping bag more
suited for sleepovers than outdoor use. Fine with her. She just needed a little
padding between her and the floor.
When she got her first paycheck, maybe she’d come back for the
air mattress she’d spotted. Maybe even a folding chair. But nothing else she
wouldn’t be able to take to Vancouver when she left.
By the time she’d stopped at a grocery store for bread and
peanut butter and walked all the way back to her apartment, it was after three.
And the saloon next door was already hopping. Grace dropped her bags in the
apartment and walked over to thank Jenny.
Before she got down the front steps, the tones of an unfamiliar
ringer cut through the air. She frowned for a moment before realizing that it
was her own cheapo prepaid phone and dug it from her bag.
“Hello?” she asked with obvious suspicion.
“Grace! Oh, my God, we haven’t talked in almost a week. Are you
in Wyoming? Do you have any minutes left?”
Grace smiled as the voice of her best friend traveled from a
satellite and made her sound like she was standing right there. “Merry,” she
said in utter relief. “Yeah, I’ve got minutes. What’s up, chick?”
“What’s up? Oh, my God, tell me what’s going on! The last time
I talked to you, you had some sort of plan to go be a mountain man or something.
And I haven’t been able to get through since!”
“It’s this phone,” she said, which was only partly true.
Mostly, she’d been avoiding her best friend. “I have to keep it off or the
battery dies. I’m sorry. Everything’s good. I’m in Jackson. It’s beautiful.”
“Beautiful? Really? Where’s Grace Barrett and what have you
done with her?”
“Ha. Yes, the mountains are pretty, the people are friendly in
an almost noncreepy way, and I just got a job.”
Merry squealed. “I’m so glad! You actually sound happy!”
“Bite your tongue. But happy or not, it’s really still me. I
plan to ditch this joint in a month or so.”
“Are you coming to Dallas? Please tell me you’re coming to
Dallas.”
“Merry, we’ve discussed this. Texas is
Jennifer McCartney, Lisa Maggiore