4. Carly
CHAPTER 4
CARLY
E ven though Gabe told me as much, I still can’t quite believe that there isn’t a single bus in this town somewhere. Something that will take me to somewhere bigger. Anything.
He drops me off in the middle of town, and it’s deadly silent. I hadn’t been expecting much, but to not see a single person or a single car… It’s eerie. Just where the hell am I?
Mullen Falls, Gabe called it. I haven’t heard of it. Clearly, it isn’t very big.
I look around me and shiver. The snow isn’t letting up, and to my great disappointment, it looks like Gabe was right. There aren’t any buses, and there aren’t any trains. It doesn’t even look like there are any cabs. With a groan, I hold my phone up to the sky, but no internet pages will load and the signal I’m getting is “emergency calls only.” So I can’t call a private service to get me out of here.
I can’t call anyone at all.
It’s enough to make me want to give up and cry. But if I stop now, I’m going to freeze to death and end up another statistic of a lonely, sad woman with nothing to live for, trapped alone in the snow.
Instead of that, I keep walking down the street. The lights are on in one of the buildings, and cars are parked outside. A good sign. As I get closer, I can hear the general commotion of a community out for the evening, having drinks and taking their minds off their problems.
I’ve never had much time or patience for small towns, but tonight, I’m just going to have to deal with it.
At the very least, it’ll be warm in there.
I stumble through the snow, take a deep breath and push open the door. Immediately, I’m hit with a warm blast, and I sigh in relief. Above the door, I notice an advertisement for room and board, and suddenly it feels like my luck is picking up. Maybe they’ll have a room for me, even if it’s a terrible one. Staying somewhere is better than staying nowhere.
Imagining the barren walls and peeling paint and toilet that won’t flush doesn’t fill me with joy, but even if I can persuade them to just let me sleep on a couch, it’s better than freezing to death. I’ll pay whatever fee they want.
I shuffle over to the bar and sit down next to a couple of older men who are laughing raucously at something. I eavesdrop for a second, and I don’t really know what I was expecting, but tractors and agriculture don’t seem too far off the point.
“Welcome to Mullen Falls,” comes a voice. I flick my eyes up to see the bartender sliding over to me, eyeing me with a look that I can only describe as suspicious.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“So, stranger,” he says, “haven’t seen you around here before.”
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I stammer, “No, I’m just stopping for the night.”
“Well, welcome to our town. What’s your poison?”
I shrug. I don’t really want a drink. It seems sad to be drinking on your own in a town that you’ve never been to with strangers you don’t know. But the bartender is staring at me in a way that doesn’t suggest that no is an option, so I say, “Something warm. Something good.”
He grins. “Coming right up. But this is going to come at the low, low price of you telling me who you are and why you’re here.”
Carefully, like he’s putting on a show because he knows I’m watching, he pours out a finger of whiskey into a glass and slides it over to me. He looks at me expectantly, and I realize he is deadly serious about getting to know me. It should be weird or creepy, but he has a genuine warmth to him that makes it hard to believe he has anything except my best interests at heart.
“My name’s Carly,” I say at last.
“Benjamin.” He smiles. He has a pale face with deep lines and kind green eyes. I get the feeling that he’s gone gray prematurely, but he shows no signs of being tired of his work. “Delighted to have you at my inn.”
“This is your place?” I ask.
“It is. It’s been in my family for three generations now.”
“It’s kind of a point of honor, huh?”
He grins at that. “You got family here?”
I shake my head. For a second, I consider lying to him, making up a reason why I’d be here. After all, it’s not like he’s ever going to see me again. But that’s way too much effort for my tired brain to come up with right now, so I settle for telling him the truth. “I’m not supposed to be here at all. I’m heading to a place further north, but I slid off the road.”
“Oh, you’ll have to call Gabe,” he says knowingly. “He’s not what you’d call a people person, but Gabe will put you right.”
“Yes, we already met.”
My look must say it all because Benjamin chuckles lightly. “Ah, then you know him well enough already. He’s a good guy. We all love him really.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call him lovable,” I scoff.
“Now, now. You’ll hurt his feelings talking like that.”
I bite my tongue from saying What do you mean? He has no feelings at all! The whole way here Gabe patronized and belittled me. He made me feel stupid for not knowing how a car works and for being so tired that I drove off the road.
“So, maybe I don’t know as much about cars as he does,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean he has to be nasty about it.”
Benjamin cocks an eyebrow at me and smiles. “He’s all right once you get to know him.”
“Well, I’m not saying that long,” I snap.
“Where are you headed to?” Benjamin asks. “Why are you here in Michigan at all?”
“I’m a wedding planner. I stake my entire life’s income on making other people happy — giving them what they want. And tomorrow morning, I’m supposed to be meeting with a couple who are going to pay me very, very well to finalize their wedding photos with a moose.”
Benjamin laughs heartily at that, attracting the attention of some of the other men sitting nearby. I shrink awkwardly in my seat, not wanting them to acknowledge me. I don’t want any sort of reputation in this town. I don’t want any sort of acknowledgment that I was ever here.
Somehow, I think that’s unlikely. This seems like the kind of place where gossip spreads like wildfire, and everyone knows everyone else’s business. No doubt I’ll be the girl that Gabe picked up on the side of the road for many months to come.
But I guess when you live in a small town like this, you have to do whatever you can to get entertainment.
“With a moose?” Benjamin says as he recovers his composure. “Seriously?”
I chuckle back. “Seriously. I told them it was impossible, but they insisted on it. They told me they’d pay extra if I could find a photographer who could arrange it.”
“And you managed to?”
“Well.” I shrug. “I found a guy who’s willing to try. Surprisingly, it’s not easy to find anyone who wants to waste their time tracking down a moose just so one bride can get the bragging rights on social media.”
“What a world,” scoffs Benjamin. “When I got married, we were happy to have our photos taken at the local park. If we had someone like you to help us, maybe we would have done something a lot more exciting.”
“It’s not worth the effort, honestly. I wish half of these people would be as simple as you.” I wince as I realize that came out wrong. “Sorry,” I say quietly.
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I know what you meant. Besides, you’re right. We keep things pretty simple around here, but we’re good folk. Tell me, do you enjoy your job? I guess you must travel a lot.”
I nod slowly. It’s a question I have asked myself before, once or twice. “Yes,” I say eventually. “I guess I do. It can be a lot of hard work, but seeing people having their perfect big day… it gives you a warm glow you can’t get anywhere else. It makes you feel like, just for a second, you can make people’s dreams come true.”
“How romantic!” He smiles, and I smile back.
What I don’t tell him is that, though I charge a lot, the actual profit I make after all the travel costs and organization and hotels is very slim. I’m losing money every second that I’m trapped here.
“Yeah,” I agree. “It is.”
“Guess your own wedding was magical too, then. Or will be?” He raises an eyebrow, and I know he’s only being nosy to be kind, to take an interest in me, but suddenly, I don’t want to do this at all anymore.
I shrug. “Something like that. Tell me, you know the town well. How fast can I get to Grand Rapids tonight?”
Benjamin laughs. “On a night like this, no chance in hell. Sorry, darlin’.”
“Great,” I mutter. “Just great.”
I’m never getting out of here.