“Oh, no. It’s you. Your name was the one the woman asked about.”
Lydia frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me this immediately?”
“I figured you’d need the coffee in your bloodstream first. And anyway, there’s no hurry. The great and glorious C.P. Phalen won’t be here for …” The woman checked her watch. “Another forty-five minutes or so.”
“What?”
“Hey, at least you’re not in running tights today.”
“That was only once last week,” Lydia muttered with distraction. “Well, fine, a couple times this month.”
“With your legs, you can get away with it. And good thing I brought some donuts in with me—”
“Maybe they’re firing Peter.”
“They’ll have to find him first.”
“My wolf is still alive,” Lydia blurted. “Did I tell you that? He made it through the weekend.”
“I’m glad.” There was a pause. “You know, I’m not much for giving advice. But rich people don’t like it when the rest of us try to trim their feathers. You need to be careful. They’re used to getting what they want and stopping what they don’t like.”
“C.P. Phalen is on the damn board. He should be on our side.”
“He’s not the rich people I’m talking about. Those hotel people are bastards.”
“Have you heard anything in town about them harassing folks? Like people showing up in places they shouldn’t?”
“Not that I know of.” Candy went to the door. “Thanks for doing those invitations.”
Before the woman left, Lydia said, “If they fire me, you’ll make sure Rick takes care of my wolf?”
Candy glanced back. “That’s his job, honey. And he might be a nerd, but he’s a good man. Actually, you should go out with him.”
“Weren’t you trying to set me up with Daniel Joseph?”
“Any available man.”
“I’m not looking for a port in a storm, Candy. Isn’t that the saying? Any available port in the—”
The low growl of a powerful engine percolated through the partially opened window.
“Speak of a port,” Candy said with a grin. “Or is he the storm?”
“This isn’t a romance novel, you know.”
“More’s the pity. And I’ll let you know when good ol’ C.P. gets here. For all the money those board members give, they sure never darken our doors.”
“I’ve only heard their voices over speakerphone.”
“Why are the board meetings always closed door and off-site?”
“I don’t know. Only Peter’s ever met any of them in person.”
“Well, I thought they were just something he made up to give himself more power and authority around this joint. Because, you know, this is such a big, important organization. And yes, I’ll vacuum out there before the big man comes.”
Candy walked off. Returned. “Did I come across as bitter as I sounded?”
Lydia gave the woman a meh. “On the bright side, at least you’ve let all that out before our board chair gets here.”
“I like your perspective. I’ll send Daniel down to you, so you can park your boat in his slip—or no, wait, it should be the other way around. Unless you’re kinky.” Candy rubbed one of her penciled-in eyebrows. “I’m really over the line today, aren’t I. I normalize my hair and all the anti-establishment is coming out my mouth. Not much of an improvement.”
“Maybe meet in the middle and streak in the pink. That way you only curse on your off hours?”
“Yeah, but what if I only curse during work?”
“This conversation is above my pay grade.”
“As long as you keep ripping up your checks, technically everything is.” Candy leaned on the jamb and did a tsk-tsk. “I emptied your trash and found the pieces.”
“They were still in the envelope.”
“Ah, so I was right. FYI, don’t confess before you know how much the other party knows—oh, hello, Daniel. She’s right in here, and I’ll leave you two to your docks and ropes. Inside joke, too hard to explain. She has a ten o’clock coming, by the way. Toodles.”
As Candy took off, Lydia put her head in her hands. “Hi,” she said without looking up.
“Hey.” There was a pause. “So it looks like you got an office upgrade.”
“It’s not permanent. I’m just here for the computer—”
“Are you okay?”
I think I might be getting fired, she answered to herself.
“Of course,” she said. “How was your weekend?”
“Uneventful. And by that, I mean my motorcycle is still running. You?”
“Nothing special.” Assuming she was living a true-crime documentary. “I thought you and I could get the map of the preserve out and I could show you where the bridges are that need to be fixed. We can do that before my meeting?”
Because if she was going to get canned, she could at least make sure the hikers were safe.
Some of the hikers, that was.
Daniel stepped into the office and frowned at the woman behind the desk. As her proper name drifted through his consciousness, he tried to keep her as just “woman.” It didn’t work. Then again, it hadn’t worked over the weekend, either.