Temporary Lodging

1. Laurie

Chapter one

Laurie

The coffee shop door jingles as I open it and hold it for my twenty-three-year-old daughter, Bethany.

Somebody’s laptop chimes. A child is very seriously eating a muffin the size of her head. Behind the counter, two baristas call a welcome as we enter.

Bethany walks over to the counter.

My best friend, Marianne, is already at a corner table with her coat over the back of her chair, two cups on the table. She looks up when I walk in.

She pushes one of the cups toward me as I sit down.

“So,” she says.

I slump into my seat. "We are all moved out."

"And…"

“The new apartment is going to be great,” I say. My smile is strained.

“Tell me the real version,” Marianne says.

The smile holds for about three more seconds and then I just stop bothering with it.

I wrap both hands around the cup and tell her the real version: the unexpected issue that makes it so we can't move in for thirty days, the hotel math that doesn’t work, the storage unit I’m already paying for, how I watched Bethany pack her things last night.

Bethany is at the counter, considering the pastry case. I keep one eye on her while I talk.

Marianne listens, looking at me directly.

“I may have a solution,” she says when I finish.

“Why does that sentence make me nervous?”

“Because you’re suspicious of good news.”

“I’m suspicious of your solutions. They come dressed in expensive shoes.”

Marianne smiles and does not deny this. “My brother has a problem.”

I know who she means before she says it. Grant Thorne. Marianne’s older brother is the kind of person who gets described as 'formidable' in business profiles because calling someone terrifying is frowned upon.

“No,” I say.

“I haven’t made the offer yet.”

Marianne sets down her cup. She explains it as if it is reasonable. "There is this little ski lodge up in the mountains, team property. It has been sitting neglected for a while. He needs it presentable and functional before some kind of inspection."

She looks at me over her coffee. "It needs more than a professional cleaning crew can give it. It needs someone who can make a place actually livable again."

“So he needs a cleaner, a project manager, and a minor miracle worker,” I say.

“He needs you,” she says with warmth.

This isn't charity, then.

“You and Bethany,” she continues, “can do the work. Deep cleaning, organization, getting the systems into some kind of order. And you can stay at the lodge while you do it. Plus you'll get paid.”

I make a noise of objection.

“Laurie.” Marianne leans forward slightly. “Grant can afford it and you need it. The math isn’t complicated.”

“What’s he like?” Bethany says, appearing at my elbow with a croissant.

Marianne considers the question for a moment. “He's bossy. And has a tendency to treat feelings like problems.”

“So the opposite of you,” Bethany says.

“Absolutely.” Marianne almost smiles.

I glance at Bethany, who is eating her croissant and watching me.

“Does Grant know you’re offering the lodging part?” I ask.

Marianne picks up her coffee cup. “He knows I have someone in mind.”

“Marianne.”

“He’ll agree once he sees reason.”

“You haven’t told him.”

“I’ve laid the groundwork,” she says.

I look at her for a long moment. Everything sensible in me says that walking into a complicated arrangement with a billionaire is not a good plan.

But what other options do I have?

“I’ll look at the place,” I say.

Marianne beams.

“I haven’t agreed.”

“Of course not,” she says.