“And what’s your excuse?” she asks slyly.
He thrusts his lips out, rubs his beard. “Ain’t nothing wrong with me these mountains can’t fix.”
Myrtle scowls. “If that were true, my firewood would be chopped by now.”
He grumbles, standing. “I’ll spend the whole day on it tomorrow, Myrtle. Promise.”
“Tomorrow?What’s wrong with today?”
He stretches his legs. “Old Bart and I got a busy afternoon of fishing planned. Gotta get out while we still have time.”
“Ed, I need that firewood. Preferably before the first freeze, or we’re both gonna count this our last winter.” She gives him a pointed look.
He swats a hand at her again. “I told ya, I’ll get to it.”
“All right then,” she caves. It’s clear she cares about him, despite his orneriness and procrastination. “Catch a big one, Ed,” she tells him. “Bring it back if you want me to cook it up for you later.”
He waves as he heads out. “Will do, Myrtle!”
When he’s gone, I turn to find a hot cup of coffee waiting for me. “His wife died a decade ago,” she tells me, watching them through the window. “She was the earner in the family. Ed hasn’t worked since he fell off a roof and broke his back in his early forties. He’s lucky to be alive. But he couldn’t hold on to his property without her income. Then the drinking set in. I let him stay here in exchange for upkeep around the place.”
“That’s kind of you,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “Ain’t nothing to it. He’s one of ours, is all. And we look out for our own around here.” Suddenly, her face falls, the smile dissipating like smoke. A serious look glints in her eye. “He comes in daily for the conversation. And he pokes around the place doing odd jobs for me. But he’s not nosy. He knows when tomind his own business, understand? He’s no threat to you.” She says this last bit as if she’s worried of what I might do.
“He seems nice,” I reassure her, “like the cantankerous grandpa I never had.”
She shrugs again. “He gets lonely.” Then she gives me a little wink. “The lonely ones always find their way to me. I put them out of their misery.”
I’m not sure what she means by that, but I’m too busy slurping my coffee to ask. “I take it you’re not married?”
She laughs in a low voice. “We aren’t all like your mother. I know my place, and it was never at a man’s side.”
“Never married, then.” I take this fact in, chew on it. “And no kids.”
“I had a son,” she’s quick to correct. “Couldn’t keep him. It was a long time ago.” Her eyes don’t meet mine. For a few minutes, we sit in uncomfortable silence. I feel guilty for bringing it up.
“You sleep okay?” she eventually asks.
I nod.
Myrtle takes in my appearance, the rolled cuffs and hang of the overalls. “When this family leaves, we’ll close up and drive to Malone, get you some clothes. You can’t keep wearing mine.”
“But I don’t have any money,” I tell her.
“I know,” she says, reaching out to smooth the hair around my face. “This round will be on me. And you need to see a doctor about that foot.”
I flinch. “I don’t know if that’s wise.”
Her eyes narrow. “An urgent care clinic. You’ll be in and out quickly. They won’t ask questions.”
I nod my assent, and she carries a pitcher of water over to the table with the family to refill their glasses.
“Guests,” she tells me when she returns. “Cabin three. They’ll be gone in the morning.”
“Do you get many this far north?”
“We stay full enough in the summer,” she says. “But it will slow down soon. Kids will go back to school, and people will preparefor autumn and the cold that comes after. They’re less inclined to travel then, which is just as well. Except the skiers. I have ten cabins altogether. Right now, not counting Ed and Bart, they’re all full, but tomorrow after that family leaves, we’ll have an opening. Next week, likely a couple more. By next month, we’ll sit at half capacity, and winter will be slow. But I like it that way. The quiet suits me. It’s the right kind of life for a Corbin.”
