Chapter 4
Liz
Inearly choked on my coffee as I looked at the prices for local rentals.
I’d spent fifteen minutes scrolling through options on my phone while waiting for breakfast, and either the entire town of Ashford was expecting the Queen of England to visit, or I’d stumbled into some kind of luxury vacation hotspot.
I stared at a photo that showed what appeared to be a glorified shed with fairy lights. Eight hundred dollars a night for a cabin with ‘authentic rustic charm’? Did ‘authentic rustic charm’ mean there was an outhouse?
Another listing caught my eye that touted ‘cozy mountain retreat with panoramic views.’ The photos showed a living room with antlers on every available surface. The daily rate was enough to make my credit card spontaneously combust.
I scrolled further. Every decent option was booked solid or priced for people whose idea of roughing it meant going without a personal chef.
The only place with availability was the Ashford Motel on the edge of town, and their website hadn’t been updated since dial-up internet was cutting-edge technology.
My stomach growled, and I set my phone down, rubbing my temples where a headache was forming. The motel was probably fine. Probably. Or I could head back to Reno.
The thought made me scrunch my nose. The last thing I needed was to run into Scott. He’d be all fake concern and “I told you so” smugness, as if I’d been the one with the gambling problem that bankrupted our business.
“Pancakes, eggs over medium, a side of bacon, and a coffee refill.”
I looked up as the server, Darlene, set a plate in front of me that could have fed a small army. The pancakes were the size of my face, golden brown and steaming.
“Anything else I can get for you, honey?” Darlene asked, topping off my coffee.
“Do you know anything about the Ashford Motel? It seems to be the only place with vacancies.”
Darlene’s face did something complicated, like she was trying not to insult a distant relative she secretly hated. “It’s...” She cringed. “They clean the sheets.”
“That bad?”
“Let’s just say they don’t exactly pay for the exterminator upfront. They wait until the roaches start demanding rent.”
I groaned. “Great. And there’s nothing else affordable around here?”
“Lot of tourists this time of year,” Darlene sighed. “Makes everything go up.”
My fork hovered over my pancakes. I really liked the area, but I didn’t want to share a room with insects or max out my credit card on a rental for two nights. Because that’s really all I could afford with the pricing of nicer places.
How could I have been so blind to what had been going on right in front of my face? Oh, that’s right. I was focused on a business that someone else clearly didn’t care enough about.
“I have an RV that you could rent.”
The voice came from two seats down the counter. I turned to see a woman about my age with brown hair sipping coffee. She set down her mug and smiled.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing. I’m Reese.” She slid over to the empty stool next to me, bringing her mug with her.
“Liz.”
“I have a travel trailer at Wings End that I’ve been getting ready to rent out.”
I blinked, fork still suspended. “The RV park? I was there this morning. Some guy told me I couldn’t sleep in my car.”
Reese laughed. “That was probably Kade. He’s my…
partner. He actually owns the place.” She pulled out her phone and showed me a photo of a surprisingly nice-looking RV.
“It has AC, a bed, a shower, the works. The awning can be finicky, though. I was going to list it tomorrow, but if you’re interested. ..”
“How much?” I was afraid of the answer.
The number she quoted was less than half what I’d seen online for even the simplest cabin rentals. But it was still out of my price range for more than a few nights.
I stabbed a pancake with my fork as I considered her offer. Wings End was a nice park, even if the owner had kicked me out this morning. But the price...
“That’s really generous, but I...” I inhaled, feeling a pang of embarrassment. “I’m between jobs at the moment. My budget’s pretty tight.”
Reese’s expression softened. “No pressure. Just offering an option.”
I remembered the knife tucked into my bag. “I might have something that could help me out temporarily.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out the pocketknife. “I found this yesterday. The hardware store lady suggested I get it appraised. I was planning to find a jeweler today to see what it’s worth.”
Reese’s face changed the instant she saw the knife. Her coffee mug froze halfway to her lips, her eyes widening.
“Where did you get that?”
“Someone... left it at my campsite.” I wasn’t about to mention the naked man part to another stranger. Not after the hardware clerk had laughed.
Before I could react, Reese’s hand shot out and snatched the knife from my palm.
What the hell?
I stared at Reese, who was now examining the knife as if she’d found the Holy Grail in a box of Lucky Charms. She’d literally snatched it from my hand. Who does that?
“Oh wow, it’s real!” Reese turned the knife over in her hands, her fingers running along the engraved handle with reverence. “This is late nineteenth century, a custom knife design. Look at this craftsmanship.”
Before I could warn her about potential poisons or booby traps, she’d already pulled it from the baggie and was examining each attachment.
“Careful with that,” I said, half-rising from my stool. “We don’t know where it’s been.”
Reese didn’t seem concerned as she unfolded a small blade, a corkscrew, and a specialized tool I didn’t recognize.
“The gold inlay work is impeccable. This was definitely made for someone wealthy. Look at these initials here.” She pointed to tiny letters in diamonds that I hadn’t even noticed before.
I leaned closer despite myself. “How do you know all this stuff?”
Reese froze, her enthusiasm faltering as she suddenly seemed to realize how weird her behavior must appear. She snapped the knife shut and handed it back to me, a flush creeping up her neck.
“I’m so sorry. That was incredibly rude of me.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking embarrassed. “I get carried away sometimes. I love antiques, and I’m actually about to start working on my appraiser’s license. I'm just waiting to hear back about a training program.”
I slipped the knife into its baggie, oddly relieved to have it back in my possession. “So, hypothetically speaking... how much would something like this be worth?”
Reese glanced around, then leaned closer. “Conservatively?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Probably fifteen to twenty thousand. Maybe more to the right collector.”
The bite of pancake I’d swallowed suddenly felt like it was going to reappear. “Twenty thousand dollars? As in one thousand dollars, twenty times?”
“Minimum. The gold and diamonds alone are valuable, but the historical significance and craftsmanship multiply that significantly.”
A sudden wave of heat rushed up from my chest to my face. The diner seemed to grow unbearably warm, and I fumbled for my water glass, nearly knocking it over.
“Are you okay?” Reese’s eyes widened with concern.
“Fine.” I fanned myself with a napkin. “Just... hot.” I chugged the ice water, feeling sweat bead along my hairline.
Wonderful. Another hot flash in public, right when I’d received news that might solve my financial crisis.
Reese watched me with a look of sympathy and understanding. “Been there.” She slid her own untouched water glass toward me when I’d emptied mine.
As the heat gradually subsided, I stared at the innocuous baggie I’d dropped on the counter in my shock. Twenty thousand dollars. For something a naked man in the woods had left—or dropped—in my tent.
What moral code did one go by in this situation? Did I try to find the owner? What if it was stolen? Had the man robbed someone and then lost his clothes during the getaway?
Holy shit. What if he’d murdered someone and his lack of clothes was because he’d gotten rid of the evidence?
“Look,” Reese said after I’d finished drowning myself in ice water, “why don’t you just move into the RV? We can worry about payment later, after you get this appraised properly.”
I looked at her skeptically. “You’d let a complete stranger stay in your RV on the promise of future payment?”
She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Consider it a professional courtesy from one woman who’s had to start over to another.” She paused. “I might actually have a buyer for the knife. Let me take some pictures of it. Definitely get it appraised, though.”
I hesitated, torn between caution and the overwhelming need for a decent place to sleep. What did I have to lose at this point?
“Let’s do it.”