Rooms: A Novel by James L. Rubart Read Free Book Online Page A

What was that supposed to mean? It sounded like a line from one of those self-help gurus he was always being subjected to at national software conventions. Micah was silent as the rain continued to hammer the sand in front of the cave. Good thing Rick didn’t ask what made him come alive.
    How would he answer the question? No idea. In that moment he realized something inside was very, very dead.
    Rick broke the silence first. “So you here on vacation or a new resident?”
    “Neither. I inherited a house. I’m kinda blown away. Nine thousand square feet, right on the ocean. I’m here to check it out, check out the area, then get the thing on the market. Should get some decent coin for it.”
    “You don’t like it?”
    “Love it.” Micah coughed. Where did that come from? He’d never even admitted it to himself.
    “But you’re selling it?”
    Micah wiped the combined sweat and rain off his forehead. “Probably going to. Haven’t made the final decision yet.”
    “Ah.” Rick took off his Windbreaker and tied it around his waist. “It’s a wonderful house.”
    “You’ve seen it?”
    “If I’m thinking of the right one, I watched it being built. Just a few houses south of Arcadia Beach State Park, right? Finished a month or so ago?”
    “That’s the one.”
    Rick smiled without a hint of jealousy. Intriguing. Micah had gotten used to those around him smiling on the outside while the green monster of envy inside them snapped at his money and fame.
    “I’ve looked forward to meeting the owner.” Rick smiled his massive grin again, his eyes almost disappearing. “Small-town ocean life agreeing with you so far?”
    “It’s turned out better than I thought it would.” Micah rubbed his cold arms and gazed at the surf. “Even with this kind of weather.”
    Rick nodded. “There’s a saying around here about the beach:
Where ocean breezes storm the soul,
Where love of strife grows quickly old,
Where the touch of God is beheld in power,
Where the spirit finds rest, in its darkest hour.”
    Micah wasn’t into poetry, but that one struck a nerve. Rest. Simple word. So elusive. And his hours? They certainly seemed to be moving his spirit toward darkness, thanks to Uncle A.
    Silence.
    He looked at Rick out of the corner of his eye. There was an intimidating confidence about him, and Micah was never intimidated. He easily spotted people’s insecurities hidden under their posing and posturing. Most of the CEOs he dealt with, no matter their age, were scared little boys inside who covered themselves with a false confidence. Rick? His self-assurance was genuine.
    Three minutes later the rain stopped. Rick shook Micah’s hand, said good-bye, and ambled down the beach. Micah walked five paces in the opposite direction before he turned back.
    “Hey, Rick! I’ve got a car mystery for you. Mine gained sixteen thousand miles overnight. That possible without someone messing with it manually?”
    Rick’s eyes shifted from playful to serious. Intense. A moment later they shifted back. “It’s rare, but yes, I’ve seen it happen.”
    “What’s the cause? Bad odometer?”
    “A much deeper issue than that.” Rick turned to walk away. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again, and I’ll have a chance to explain it.”

CHAPTER 7
    Micah arrived at RimSoft early Monday morning with Rick’s enigmatic response still swirling through his mind. Deeper issues? With a car? Explain it when? Maybe next weekend he’d try to find Rick’s station and get an answer.
    Micah pushed the mystery out of his mind for the moment and booted up his computer. Getting to work at five o’clock meant he could get a majority of his work for the week finished before the inevitable fires started.
    By the time Shannon arrived at eight, he’d plowed through all of his work slated for Monday and Tuesday.
    He stretched, stood, and strolled over to his window to watch gray clouds roll in, painting a dreary ceiling for the ferryboats chugging