Page 136 of Falling Together

“Here she is.” He pats the top of the dresser.

“It’s in great shape.”

It looks exactly like it did in the photos, with three large drawers and vine-wrapped handles.

“Found it at an estate sale just up the road last week. Could use a good sanding to clean it up, but overall, in great shape.”

“Two hundred, right?” I ask.

I pull open the drawers and they’re lined with floral paper. The smell of mothballs is overwhelming.

“Yes.”

“Great, I’ll take it.” I fish out the stack of twenties from my purse and hand it over. “Would you be able to help me get it into my truck?”

“Sure thing.”

By the time we get it wrapped in a plastic tarp, lug the piece into the back of my rented truck and get it secured, the snow is thick. So thick, it’s hard to see through.

Shit.

At the rate it’s coming down, there’s no way I’m going to be able to make the three-hour drive back to Thistle Creek. Hell, I can’t even make it to Pinecrest at this point.

I’m one of the only people still out by the time I get to the main road. With darkness settling in, I’m not going to be able to make it much farther.

“Fuck.”

I squint through the snow, trying to find any sign of a place to stop. This is one of the bad things about small-town life in Montana.

Once you get out of town, there’s not much around.

A gas station I passed on my way in is now closed. The café next to it? All the lights are off.

“Damn it.”

At this rate, I’m going to have to curl up in the back seat of the truck and hope I don’t freeze.

Until a flashing light up ahead gleams like a beacon in the dark night.

Cozy Cottage Inn blinks in red with a vacancy sign underneath it.

“Thank God.”

It takes longer than it should to pull into the crowded parking lot because the snow is getting deep. I hope they still have rooms, because with how much snow they’re predicting, I might be here a few days.

I find an empty spot in the back of the lot to park the truck and hop out. The wind is howling as the snow sticks to my face.

“Damn, it’s freezing,” I mutter to myself.

The drifts are already up to my shins as I pull open the glass door into the lobby. Everything is covered in plaid wallpaper with groups of overstuffed chairs clustered around the frosted windows. A few people linger, but with another gust of wind, someone trails in behind me and heads straight to the desk.

“Hi there. Welcome to the Cozy Cottage Inn. How can I help you?” the young woman asks.

“Yes, I need a room for a night or two.”

She beams at him. “You’re in luck. We have one left.”

Only one? Oh, hell no.