Page 30 of Never Been Matched
But the suggestion does remind me, I do have another contact who knows Graham Deadwyler. “Wait. Maybe there’s someone local who can help us.”
Her mouth twists, skeptical. “Who?”
“We’ll need to go see a guy about some squash.”
Chapter Seven
Spencer
* * *
I press the phone closer to my ear, like that will somehow make the terrible reception better. “So let me get this straight. You’re telling me the power is off for this whole neighborhood, and there isn’t an estimated time you expect it to be back on?”
The customer service rep, some guy named Frank, sounds either drunk or high or both, and like he would rather be doing literally anything other than talking to me, but probably playing video games. “The storm took . . . crackle crackle . . . line . . . crews are backed up. They’re getting out there in a few days.”
A few days? I peek through the blinds. The nearest house is right beyond some birch trees lined up near the edge of the property line, at least an acre away. Some of my parents’ friends live in this neighborhood and are well into their eighties. “People can’t live like that; it’s below freezing.” Worry pulses through me. I’ll have to go check on everyone. Isn’t Dorothea on oxygen?
Frank sighs. “The power company is . . . crackle . . . at the local inn. Do you . . . number?”
“The power company is putting people up at the local inn?”
“I guess, man.”
My shoulders relax an inch. Well, that’s something. I’m still going to check to make sure everyone is okay. I don’t trust Frank for reasons that have become apparent during this conversation. It started when he told me to chill out, bruh and went downhill from there.
“If there are people still at home, can I have them call you?”
“They can just show up there.”
“The inn has a finite number of rooms.”
“Huh?”
I resist the urge to strangle my cell phone. “Nothing. Thanks.” I hang up.
After doing a cursory check around the farmhouse—everything looks like it did the last time I was here, covered and dusty and quiet—I lock up and head back to my car.
Once the power is restored, I’ll have to turn the water back on, get some cleaners in, and uncover all the furniture. Pointless to do anything right now. It may be another week, at least.
Hopefully, Quinn got Vivien a room at the inn, if there is one left.
I dial the office once I’m back in my car, rubbing my hands in front of the heater.
“Montgomery and Son, this is Quinn.” Quinn’s monotone echoes across the line.
“Hey Quinn, it’s me. The power is out all over the Regency Park neighborhood. I’m going to make sure everyone here is all right. The power company said they are sending affected residents to the inn while it gets sorted, but I want to double-check, so it might be a couple hours before I get back.”
“Okay. That makes sense then.”
My hands tighten around the steering wheel. “What makes sense?”
“The inn was full when I called to get a room for Vivien tonight. They had to block out a bunch of rooms for anticipated guests. She’s going to have to stay here at least another night or longer.” She pauses. “Are you okay with that?”
I swallow. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?”
I’m too okay with that, which means I am not okay at all.
Part of me is thrilled she’ll be staying at my place a little longer. But the rational part is waving a giant red flag that reads bad decision in bold, bright, all-caps letters.
