The smell of pancakes and real maple syrup preceded her as she returned to set a full loaded plate in front of her guest. As Joey began to eat, Mrs O’Brien fished in the wide pocket of her apron and drew out a slightly crumpled envelope.
“I forgot to give you this last night. Came for you in yesterday’s mail.” She set the envelope down on the table and swept out of the room again.
Chewing hastily and wiping her fingers, Joey studied the envelope eagerly. There was no return address. That was strange in itself, but as she tore it open and scanned the short, handwritten lines, its significance became all too clear. “Damn!” She crumpled the note into a tight ball and tossed it across the table. It was entirely too much. The pancake she’d consumed lay like a lead weight in her stomach.
For a moment she allowed herself to experience the full brunt of anger and despair. She dropped her head in her hands, uncaring that the end of her braid was close to trailing in sticky syrup.
She should have known better—better than to trust that so-called “guide” in East Fork. Some well-meaning soul had taken pity on her and anonymously written to let her know that her hired mountaineer had vanished two weeks ago with all his belongings, heading east. Away from Joey. With the money she’d already paid him to secure his services. And the anonymous note made clear that he’d left no forwarding address that a foolish city girl might use to track him.
Joey struggled to control her rage, pushing it back under the surface bit by bit until she was able to raise her head and present a placid face to the empty room. The angry tears never spilled from her eyes. She’d learned long ago to rein in her emotions, lest they destroy what peace of mind she’d been able to make for herself over the years.
She’d always prided herself on her practicality. Facts were facts. She had no guide, and she was going to have to have one to reach her goal. Time was running out. That meant she’d have to secure a replacement—a local replacement—and quickly. Lovell wasn’t a big town, but surely she could find someone able to guide her into the nearby mountains, someone willing to take a little outsider money and indulge her eccentric desire.
After this last experience she’d have to be careful, but she couldn’t afford to be overly selective, either. Nothing had really changed. She’d lost a little money, but that could be dealt with. There was only one important goal now, and that was to find her guide.
Night came altogether too quickly here in the north, Joey reflected grimly. Another day wasted, and no concrete leads on a replacement for her runaway mountaineer. She’d met with sympathy, indifference, and even ridicule among the townsfolk she’d questioned, but not a shred of real success. Someone knew somebody’s cousin who might be willing to help—but that somebody was out of town for two weeks. Old Jack used to do that kind of thing, but he’d retired three years ago.
Joey didn’t like butting up against a brick wall. Not when she was so damned close.
Well, it was too late to do anything more. She stood in Lovell’s main street, hugging herself against the evening coolness. With the shorter days came colder nights, and the chill nipped at Joey through her light jacket. Townsfolk passed by silently, ignoring her. Across the road the neon lights of Red’s Tavern came on, promising warmth and some measure of companionship. Joey knew she didn’t want to spend another night alone poring over her maps, berating herself for past mistakes, or listening to Mrs O’Brien’s well-meant lectures. She needed more stimulating company tonight.
A blast of warm air swept over her as she entered the smoky room, carrying with it the unmistakable smell of alcohol and humanity. Joey made her way between the close-packed tables and over to the pockmarked wooden bar, where Maggie was busy mixing drinks for a boisterous group of drinkers in the corner. The blare of a sports program rose above laughter and loud conversation.