A Home of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #4)(17)
Author: Brenda Novak

“What are you doing in town in the middle of such a bad storm?” Gabe asked as he wheeled closer.

Too grumpy to bother smiling, Mike propped an arm on the back of the booth and watched his friend. “I was wondering the same about you.”

“I had a meeting with the mayor yesterday and stayed too long. Haven’t been able to make it home since.” Gabe remained in his chair instead of hauling himself out and sliding around the booth as Mike had seen him do before, when the restaurant was busy.

“Too much snow?”

Gabe nodded.

“Considering that you bought the most remote piece of land you could find, I’m not surprised.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Did you stay at your folks’ place last night?”

“I did. My father and I sat up talking politics.” He smiled faintly as though he’d enjoyed it, and Mike was glad that Gabe had at least remained close to his father.

“Where’s he now?”

Gabe grimaced. “My sister Reenie and her family stopped by. She drives me nuts, so I thought I’d get out of there for a while.”

Reenie spoke her mind. She’d probably said something Gabe didn’t want to hear, something that should’ve been said a long time ago, and Gabe had walked—or rolled—out.

Given his mood, Mike had half a mind to be more honest with Gabe himself. “You still making furniture?”

“If I make much more, I’m going to have to build another cabin just to house it.”

Yesterday Mike might have nodded and pretended it was perfectly normal to make piece after piece of furniture and do absolutely nothing with them, but he couldn’t keep up with that social farce today. He missed the honesty that had always existed between him and Gabe. “Why are you warehousing it?” he asked.

Gabe blinked in surprise. “What do you suggest I do?”

“What anyone else would do—sell it.” Lord knew Gabe’s rocking chairs—anything he created, really—were more than mere furniture. They were works of art. But no one else would ever be able to enjoy them because Gabe kept the furniture he made, closeting it away.

“I don’t need the money,” he said with a shrug.

“This isn’t about money.”

Gabe scowled and tried to sidestep him again. “Where would I sell it? All the people around here who’re really interested have already traipsed up to my cabin to take their pick.”

That wasn’t true. Since the accident, few folks braved his cabin. Mike was one of those who visited from time to time, and even he looked for excuses to avoid interrupting Gabe’s sullen solitude. “Who are you trying to kid?” he asked. “Me or you?”

Gabe’s expression grew leery. “What’s going on with you today?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s ever going on with me anymore, because I understand that our relationship has changed.” Mike took another sip of his coffee, watching Gabe over the rim.

“Changed?”

“We’ve been best friends most of our lives, yet ever since the car accident, I’m only allowed to smile and nod and talk about the weather.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed into silvery slits. “If you’ve got something to say to me, Mike, say it.”

“Okay.” Mike set down his coffee cup and leaned forward. “It’s time for you to be productive again, to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

Gabe rocked back as if Mike had just landed a right hook. “God, it’s Reenie, isn’t it? She’s been shooting off that mouth of hers to you, too.”

“No.” Mike shook his head. It wasn’t Reenie at all—it was Lucky. She was bringing out the worst in him all around. But he was halfway into this conversation and he wasn’t backing out now. “What I think has nothing to do with Reenie. If she’s saying things you don’t like, it’s probably because she’s as tired as I am of seeing you cut yourself off from everyone who cares about you.”

The muscles in Gabe’s arms bunched, revealing the anger circulating beneath his carefully controlled exterior. Since the accident, Mike had sensed the explosiveness of that anger—everyone sensed it—which was why most people chose to stay away. But until now, Gabe had kept a tight rein on his emotions. “Unless you know what it’s like to be sitting in this damn chair, you have no right to criticize or advise,” he growled.

Mike felt terrible about the accident and guilty for having two strong, functioning legs while his best friend would never walk again. But he could finally see that his pity wasn’t getting Gabe anywhere. Maybe he was foolish to risk their relationship by pushing too hard, but he couldn’t let Gabe slip any further away from the man he used to be.

“You’re letting it beat you, my friend,” Mike said evenly. “And I can’t stand to watch.”

Gabe’s lips curled into a snarl, but before he could let loose, Judy came up behind him.

“Well, look who we have here.” She tucked her bleached hair behind her ear and smiled appreciatively. “I haven’t seen you in forever, Gabe.”

A mask quickly descended over Gabe’s face. Swiveling in his chair, he managed a tight smile. “Hi, Judy. How are you?”

“I’d be better if you’d drop by a little more often. Are you such a health nut these days that you can’t eat a greasy burger once in a while?”

Gabe muttered something about stopping in again soon, but Mike could tell he didn’t mean it. Gabe didn’t like being singled out, even for such a simple greeting. The exchange reminded Mike far too much of the polite nonsense that had overtaken his own relationship with Gabe.

“So what can I get you today?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Gabe glanced malevolently at Mike. “Go ahead and take care of Mike—if he’ll let you. Suddenly he’s an expert on everything.”

Judy propped her hands on her hips and frowned as Gabe wheeled himself out. “Wow, what’s gotten into him?”

“Nothing new,” Mike said with a sigh.

She put her order pad back in her pocket. “I take it you’re not having a very good day, either.”

He rubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw. That had to be the understatement of the year. In the past twenty-four hours he’d slept with his rival and alienated his best friend.

CHAPTER SIX

LUCKY SAT on the bed in her cheap green-and-brown motel room, ignoring the noisy storm outside as she stared at the three names in her mother’s journal. Dave Small, Eugene Thompson, Garth Holbrook. What were they like?