I took a seat in the chair across from my cousin. He’d offered to put a desk in here for me, too, but I didn’t need it. The kitchen was my office.
“What were you working on besides sawing logs?” I asked.
“The books.”
“Why? Gideon’s going to be here tomorrow. Let him do it.” He was incredible with financial stuff.
Cole shook his head, and we launched into a very familiar argument. “I don’t know why you won’t take his help.”
“I do,” my cousin protested.
“Only when you have to. But you know Gran and Gramps considered him their grandson, too. He feels like a brother to me—just like you do. So what’s the deal?”
“Because I shouldn’t need help.” Cole was still grumpy from his ill-timed nap, but then again, he was always grumpy on this topic.
“I think you meanwe. We are co-owners, you know.”
He grunted, which was all the response I was going to get to that. But then Cole surprised me. “I was also looking at online reservation systems you can add to a website.”
“Anything decent?”
“They’re all expensive as hell, but I can see why people might expect them.”
“Got to spend money to make money, I suppose.”
“That only works if you have money in the first place.” The weariness on Cole’s face no longer had anything to do with sleep.
“We’ll get there. We just have to find our niche. Figure out what works for us and make it happen. And everyone’s struggling right now. The diner is. Hell, the hardware store shut down.” My absentee dad had quit years back, but I’d kept an eye on the place ever since he abandoned it—and me.
Because Cole looked so weary, I decided to table the never-ending discussion for another time. “How were our guests this evening?”
He frowned as if he hadn’t thought of it. “They were fine.”
“Did Gideon come over?”
“Yeah. We worked on the smokehouse.” Cole shook his head, thinking it over. “Dinner was quiet but civil. We ate the leftovers from yesterday.”
That reminded me of something. “Thanks for feeding the cats.”
“You’re welcome,” Cole said automatically. Then his gaze sharpened. “Wait, what?”
“The barn cats. I left you a note asking you to put their food out.”
“I didn’t see a note.”
Shit.
I got to my feet, feeling uneasy. If they weren’t fed, some of them might be still out there by the barn waiting—and making them prime targets for the coyotes.
Cole followed me into the kitchen, and I cursed softly as I saw the yellow post-it on the counter. “It’s right there. How could you miss it?”
“It wasn’t. I swear I checked, and when I didn’t see anything, I figured you’d fed them early.”
“In the afternoon?” Irritated, I pulled open the refrigerator door to gather up some scraps. But then Cole put his hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
“Look at this.”
I squinted as I examined the square of yellow paper he was pointing at. There was a faint outline of a shoe print on the note, as well as feminine handwriting that definitely didn’t belong to either of us. I read it aloud: “I put food out for the cats—Lila.”