They left Prairie Creek on the same deserted highway that had brought them there. Jane gazed at the endless flat fields of drifting snow on either side. People must go insane at this nothingness. At last a few trees came into view, and the road dipped into a rolling landscape. Danny turned into a driveway marked by a rusty mailbox labeled "1004 Gingery." Through the bare trees a two-story French Country house sat high above the far side of a pond.

"Hold onto yerself, Miss Jane," Prett said. "Val gits a mite crazed plowin'." Danny and Val grinned at each other as the pickup's plow lowered. Danny stepped on the gas and the truck lurched forward, sending snow flying. He sped up the driveway, sweeping past the house. He circled around and made another pass, spraying two cars with snow.

"Ye' hopin' to hep Bubblegum Barbie dig aht her vehicle?" Prett asked. Danny ignored him. Val signed a question, and Prett said with irritation, "Colorado plates. Holly Golightly and The Letch. Must be the big surprise Miss Cady warned me 'bout." He said to Jane, "Dun' let yerself git alone with Letch...er...Lee. Iffen ye do, dun' be afeared to lay him aht flat. A good upper cut'll do it."

Upper cut? Lay him out flat? Me? Is that how they settle things? Probably. She glimpsed Danny's eyes in the rear-view mirror. Except him. All he has to do is smile.

Danny whipped the truck around, making it slide on the ice beneath the accumulating snow. Jane gasped, grabbing her seatbelt with one hand and her seat with the other. "Warned ye'," Prett said. To Danny he groused, "Now I see why ye' din't put on the snow chains laike I toldt ye' to." Danny made several more wild passes, making Jane lurch from side to side, before he slid the truck to a final stop. He and Val high-fived each other and jumped out. Jane sat motionless, her heart pounding, her fists still gripping. "Yer brachfast ain't gonna to come up, is it?" Prett asked.

"It might," she whispered. Her door opened, letting in a blast of frigid air that left her breathless. Danny reached his hand to her, his merry expression turning somber.

"Watch it, Val," Prett said before getting out. "She maht upchuck on yer dandy duds. Serve ye' raht, too." 

Danny circled his chest with his fist before caressing Jane's hand. She took a couple deep breaths and released her hold on the seatbelt. He lifted her hand to his lips. 

Trembling fits of adoration. 

Her face heated as Danny's brothers hovered behind him wearing expressions of concern. "I'm okay now. The cold air helped."

Val and Prett exchanged knowing glances. "It were the coldt air what done it, Val." Prett slapped his brother on the chest and headed to the house. Danny unsnapped Jane's seatbelt, helped her slide out of the truck, and escorted her to the porch.

The front door opened, and a woman surveyed them coming up the steps. Taller than Jane by a good five inches, she had a lanky build and an angular face with high cheekbones. With her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and piercing gray eyes staring down a narrow, straight nose, she appeared not to be someone who suffered fools. But her most striking feature were deep grooves through her cheeks; a jagged backwards L on her right and an upside-down V on her left. Jane tried not to stare at the scars.

"Miss Cadence," Prett said with a salute. "We's here in person as commanded."

She scoffed, stepping back to allow them entry. "Wipe your feet."

They complied, stomping on a large blue rug covering the oak floor. Ahead lay an open staircase, with greenery and lights wrapping up the handrail. On the right a stone archway separated the foyer from a dining room. To the left lay a set of French doors.

"You're Jane?" Cadence asked. Jane's eyes widened before she nodded.

"The stray we picked up 'long side ah the road." Prett looked at Jane before giving a nod towards Cadence. "This here's Miss Cadence Pruett, the lioness at the gate." Cadence smirked, the grooves in her cheeks deepening. "I noticed we're not the first visitors," Prett added in a low voice.

"Holly's in the kitchen, baking up a storm," Cadence replied as quietly. "Got here last night. Late. Didn't want me to tell you."

"I imagine not." He scowled. "How have ye' fared against The Letch?"

"She left him behind. For good this time. So she says." Cadence smiled slightly. "Surprise."

Prett did seem surprised. Then wary. "Let's pray it sticks this time." He let out a breath. "One less rat to deal with teday."

"Little Miss Bippy is here, though," Cadence murmured.

"We saw her Infinity."

"Just showed up. Don't know why."

Prett glanced at Jane. "Oh, I've a good reason why."

A beeper attached to Cadence's waistband emitted several shrill tones, and she clamped her hand over it, muting the sound. "You better get in there." She jerked her head towards the French doors. "She's hyperventilating after watching you plow."

"That were Val."

"I know who it was." She gave Danny an annoyed glance. "She was already in a tizzy from the weather and John Starlin's letter. Last thing she needed was to watch you slide around."

"Starlin? What's he have to say?"

"He's retiring."

"Ah."

Cadence snatched a broom from the corner and thrust it at Danny. "Don't be tracking snow everywhere." He accepted the broom with an intimidated smile. Cadence turned and led Prett and Val to the adjacent room. Wow. She must be immune to him. I need to achieve that. Danny gave Jane a sideways glance with a wink. She smiled back. Next time. He gave his boots a perfunctory swish, and swiped the broom once over her feet before returning it to the corner. He took her hand again to encourage her to follow him. I wish he didn't let go so soon.

They entered a carpeted study. Between a cluttered desk and a smaller cluttered table, an elderly woman with snowy hair sat in a motorized wheelchair. "My lands, you're alive!" she exclaimed when she saw Prett. She clasped one gnarled hand to her throat as she flicked her other back and forth. "I saw you flying up and down the driveway and thought your brakes had gone out! Thought we'd have to fish your bodies out of the drink!"

"Sorry fer causin' sech a fraht, GiGi," Prett said loudly.

"Eh?" She turned her right ear towards him. Then she gave him a wave of her hand. "Don't give me any of that mountain talk! I can't understand a word you say!"

"Yes, ma'am." For the second time this morning his hillbilly accent vanished. "I'm sorry for causing you such a fright," he repeated.

"As well you should be! I'm an old woman now! My heart can't take many more shocks!" She paused a moment. "Well, don't stand there like a soured grape because I scolded you, Prettamin. Come say a proper good morning." Prett stepped forward and kissed her proffered cheek. "Oh, you are so scratchy." She beckoned Val. "Don't be shy, Valentine." He also kissed her cheek. "When will you cut off this mop?" She tugged his long hair. He waved his hand down his chest with a grin. "Oh, my lands! Are you Samson–you can't ever cut your hair?"

She turned to Danny, who circled his chest before shaking his hand twice with his thumb and index finger pointed out. "As well you should be, Velentinny." She held out her cheek for his kiss. "Shame on you for frightening me like that." She patted his beard. "Look at you, still. You were so handsome without this."

"Too handsome," Prett said. "Couldn't walk down the street without beating the girls off him."

"Oh, but now he'll scare them away." She lifted his tresses in her hands. "Grow it much longer and you'll be tripping over it."

"We thought we heard voices," said a cheerful voice. A pretty woman with sea-blue eyes and shoulder-length blonde hair entered the room, followed by a perky teenage girl with coal-black hair streaked with red and green stripes.

"Miss Holly," Prett said to the blonde, "it's good to see you."

"It's great to be seen." She walked to him, put her arms around his waist, and lay her head on his shoulder.

Expressing surprise, he put his hands on her shoulders. "Why didn't you call me? Forget my number?"

She raised her head. "I had to do this myself. But I should have listened to you a long time ago."

"I know."

Holly released him with a wistful smile. Danny rushed to her, flung his arms around her waist, and swung her around. Prett jumped back to avoid getting smacked by her legs. Holly squealed when Danny picked her up and laughed when he set her down again. "How long you been wanting to do that?" Danny grinned as he made a quick sign, sliding his finger up to his shoulder. She laughed again. "It has been too long. But what's all this hair for?" She ruffled the side of his head. "You look like wild men. People will think you're from the Kentucky backwoods or something."

"But aren't they from Kentucky?" the teen girl interjected, chewing a wad of gum.

"Guilty as charged," Prett said. "How you doing, Blair?"

"Good."

"How's school?"

"Fine."

"Pick a college yet?"

"No."

"Prettamin," the old woman chastised, "are you going to introduce your new girl, or do I need to take it upon myself?"

"Yes, ma'am." He waved Jane over and made the introductions.

"Mrs. Gingery." Jane took her arthritic hand. Bright blue eyes surrounded by wrinkles peered back at her.

"Jane Johnson. Such a plain, simple name." Mrs. Gingery continued to hold Jane's hand. "Do you have a middle name, dear?"

"Elizabeth."

"Well! That's better. Jane Elizabeth. Much more regal." She patted Jane's hand. "Tell me about yourself."

"I have her résumé right here, GiGi." Prett pulled out the paper.

Mrs. Gingery waved him off. "I don't need her work history, Prettamin, I want to know about her." She squeezed Jane's hand. "Come closer, dear. You have the prettiest green eyes. What color is your hair? I can't tell with it pulled back."

"Strawberry blonde."

"Strawberry blonde, yes. It's very odd. Have you noticed, Prettamin? Despite the coloring, she has the most uncanny resemblance–"

"GiGi!" Prett interrupted a little too loudly. "I ...ah ...I is needin' to barrow yer snowsuit." He appeared flustered and distressed.

"Eh? My snowsuit?! My lands, what for?"

"Miss Jane. She's helping with deliveries."

"Deliveries?" Mrs. Gingery gripped Jane's hand tighter. "Surely you're not dragging this poor girl out in this snowstorm?"

"We need her."

"Whatever for?"

"In case we get stuck in a drift. Need her to push the truck out."

Mrs. Gingery relaxed her hold. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. She can't push any truck. Look at her. She's just a slip of a girl."

Prett shrugged, his expression back to its usual nonchalance. "She had a hearty breakfast." Jane could hear the Vals snickering behind her and she felt her color rise. "So can I borrow it?"

"Borrow what?"

"The snowsuit."

Mrs. Gingery let out an exasperated huff as she let go of Jane's hand. "My lands, I haven't worn that thing in years! I don't even know where it is! Buried in some closet, I suppose."

"No worries. I believe Miss Cady found it."

Mrs. Gingery looked at Cadence, who nodded. "Well! I see you two are in cahoots. What else have you been conspiring?"

"Just borrowing some sheets and blankets," Prett said, "so Miss Jane can sleep at the Prairie Creek."

"The hotel? You've finished it?"

"No, that's why we hired her. To paint. Help us finish."

"Well, then, you can't make her sleep there!"

"Why not? We set up a bed."

"She'd be far more comfortable here. Cadence can get another room ready."

"I'm not letting her stay here."

"Why ever not?"

"Barely know her. Just hired. No references." Prett considered Jane with his inscrutable expression. "Could be an axe murderer." He turned back to Mrs. Gingery. "Might kill you in your sleep. And then who'd pay me to finish the hotel?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!"

"So I can borrow the bedding?"

Mrs. Gingery waved her hands at him. "Yes, yes. Take whatever you want."

"Thank you, GiGi." He gave her another peck on the cheek.

"Oh, you'll be the death of me yet."

Prett gave a nod to Jane. "Better me than her."

"Oh, go on," she said, dismissing him with her hands. "Pay him no mind, Jane Elizabeth. You don't have to do a thing he says."

"She does if she wants to get paid."

At that, Mrs. Gingery threw her shoulders back and thrust up her chin. "You treat her properly, Prettamin James Marvel, or you won't get paid."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Gingery turned her attention to the table beside her. "Now, where's that letter, Cadence?" She riffled through a stack of envelopes. "John Starlin has the most distressing news." Cadence hurried over, pulled out a letter, and handed it to her.

"He's retiring?" Prett prompted.

"Yes! And that's not all!" Mrs. Gingery thrust the letter at him. "Read it!" Mrs. Gingery massaged her hands as he perused it.

"He's recommending his clients switch over to his nephew," Prett said.

"Exactly! And I know nothing about the boy!"

"Name's Alexander Starlin."

"Yes, yes, Robert Starlin's son."

"So you do know him."

"I know Robert Starlin never used a lick of sense God gave him!"

"His son could be different. John thinks highly of him."

"Well I'm not so sure about him anymore. Sheer laziness. He has no business retiring."

"He must be at least eighty."

"Peter Hornsby didn't retire!"

"Peter Hornsby dropped dead."

"And if he hadn't, John Starlin wouldn't have been foisted upon me!"

"Well, that's what happens when you outlive everyone, GiGi."

Mrs. Gingery squeezed her hands, her voice shrill. "I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

"You got through it then, you'll get through it now. Here, why don't I set up a meeting with this Alexander Starlin? Invite him for dinner. Get to know him."

"I suppose we could do that."

"His office might be closed for the holiday already, but I'll find out." As he pulled out his phone, he said to Cadence, "See if the snowsuit fits."

Cadence indicated Jane should follow her, and Holly, Blair, and the Vals trailed along. Once in the foyer, Holly cried out, "Oh! My cookies!" She dashed towards the kitchen, and the Vals exchanged desirous looks before hurrying after her.

Jane caught up with Cadence in a room at the end of the hallway. Blair followed. They entered a large master bedroom, stuffed with vintage dressers, tables, and bookshelves surrounding an antique maple bed. Cadence pried the lid off a plastic bin and pulled out pink ski pants. She held them up to Jane with pursed lips, an expression that deepened the jagged cuts on her cheeks. "Might have to roll the pant legs up, but it looks like they'll fit. Try them on." Jane removed her coat and sat on the edge of the bed.

"So why did Prett hire you?" Blair asked.

What's with the accusing tone? "I needed a job, and he offered me one."

"To paint Grammy's hotel? They're not doing anything with that old place. It should be torn down."

That's what I thought. At first. "It might look like it from the outside, but they're close to finished on the inside."

"How would you know? No one's ever been in it."

"Oh?" Jane said. "But I have."

Blair's eyes grew wide, and she stopped chewing her gum. "You've been in the hotel? When?"

"Before we came here."

"Isn't it horrid inside?"

"No. In fact, Val decorated the lobby for Christmas."

Blair flipped her dark hair. "You're putting me on."

Jane smiled, feeling sheepish. "I admit I was a little surprised, too. He doesn't look like he'd know interior design. But he's done amazing work with their apartment."

"Their apartment? You mean that brick building?" 

Jane nodded.

Blair stared at her with her mouth open. "You've been in there?"

Why is this so unbelievable? "Yes."

Blair continued to gape. "But they never let anyone in," she said in a breathless whisper.

 Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please help me improve my writing by pointing out problems. And if you like what you read, please click the Vote button below. And comment! I love comments! 😊  

Fun Fact: The character Genevieve Gingery is based on my husband's great-aunt, Adee Mickley. She passed away February 9, 2019, aged 104 years, 9 months, and 25 days. She was quite the spitfire and will be sorely missed!

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