Page 8 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

But that wouldn’t stop him from trying to change her mind.

After checking the house, seeing Francine settled, and reminding her about the dance, Joseph got into his vehicle and drove back to the main road. Francine had been a pleasant distraction, but he needed to shift his thoughts to the serious problem of the stolen money.

For now, he decided, he would spare his father the news of the theft. Between grief and his disability, Blake was dealing with all a man could bear. He didn’t need one more blow. But if he started asking questions, Joseph would have no choice except to tell the truth.

Ahead, he could see a heavy truck with a trailer parked outside the roadhouse.

He slowed the car for a better look. Workmen were unloading crates and pieces of furniture—tables, chairs, a dresser, a bed.

It appeared that the new owner of Jake’s Place was moving in.

The citizens of Blue Moon would be abuzz with curiosity about the new business and its proprietor.

For a moment, Joseph was tempted to stop, ask a few questions, maybe even meet the new owner. But that would mean putting off his return home, and he’d procrastinated long enough. His father—and his other duties—would be waiting for him.

A breeze had come up, stirring the dust that rose behind his car’s wheels. As he passed the former roadhouse, he glimpsed a figure standing on the front stoop—a shapely woman in a dark dress, her features hidden by a Chinese parasol, held low. Could she be the new owner?

Dismissing the question, he drove out of town and headed south toward the cutoff for the ranch. Now that he was alone once more, his thoughts began to wander forbidden paths.

Somewhere on the flatland east of town, where dirt farmers eked out a subsistence from the used-up soil, the son he could never claim was living his childhood.

His life was bound to be hard. Would he have enough food to eat, shoes on his feet, and a coat to keep him warm?

Would he have a doctor if he got sick? Would he have the book learning he needed to make his way in the world?

And what about the stern-looking man who was raising him? Would he treat the boy as his own? Would he be a good husband to gentle Annabeth?

Joseph had no right to ask those questions. Even though the true answers might break his heart, there’d be nothing he could do. He could only try to forget what he’d seen today.

Lucas . His lips formed the name, then let it fade, unspoken, on the hot summer wind.

The woman known as Lola De Marco closed her parasol and stepped back into the shadows of the cluttered dining room.

Boxes, crates, and pieces of furniture rose around her like the ruins of an ancient kingdom.

She’d had the rooms cleaned out ahead of her arrival, but many hours of work remained before the place would be ready to open for business.

She’d kept Jake’s name for the restaurant.

She’d also hired Smitty, Jake’s former cook, at a generous raise in salary so her customers could expect the same good food.

But she was planning other, less visible changes—changes that promised to make her a wealthy woman. These would take time and money.

Her ex-husband’s secret stash, which she’d found after he went to prison, had given her enough money to buy this place. But her funds were running low. She needed to get more cash coming in, and soon.

She stepped aside to make way for two husky workers carrying a mattress destined for the second floor, where she planned to live for now. Her quarters wouldn’t be fancy, but she’d known far worse in the recent past.

She’d hired several men for the move through an agency in Deer Lodge that found jobs for ex-convicts. Two of them would be staying on to help her get the restaurant set up for business—and maybe as permanent help if they proved their worth. The others would be paid and dismissed.

Maneuvering around a heap of secondhand chairs, she walked to the front of the dining room.

The windows had been covered with brown wrapping paper to block curious gazes.

Now she peeled back a corner and peered out through the dusty pane at the street.

There were more autos on Main Street and more power lines overhead.

Otherwise, Blue Moon hadn’t changed much in the past five years.

Same businesses, same little working-class houses with laundry flapping from clotheslines and children playing in the yards.

As she recalled, most of the people were rubes, which suited Lola fine. Only two families made the place worthy of notice—the Calders and the Dollarhides.

Lola hadn’t missed the sight of Joseph Dollarhide driving past in that red Model A Ford.

When she’d known him before, he’d been nineteen years old, on the cusp of manhood.

They’d spent some pleasant times together, even exchanged a few chaste kisses before their budding romance ended badly.

Now he’d grown into a fine-looking man, but those days were over—water under the bridge, as folks were fond of saying.

After replacing the paper, Lola turned away from the window.

Two workers had just carried a mirrored dresser through the door.

The heavy piece, meant for her upstairs bedroom, would have to be carried up the steep, narrow stairs.

The men had left it in the middle of the floor while they went for more help.

The mirror had been covered with a protective cloth. Now the cloth had slipped to one side, exposing part of the frame and the glass. As Lola reached to pull the cloth back into place, the mirror caught a shadowed reflection of her face.

The impulse to turn away never left her, even though Lola forced herself to keep looking.

Four years ago, in the women’s wing of the Montana State Penitentiary, a fellow prisoner had savaged her face with a broken bottle.

The prison doctor had stopped the bleeding and saved her damaged eye.

But he could do nothing about the scars that made a relief map of her once exquisite face—ugly scars she would carry for the rest of her life.

If Joseph had seen her face today, he would not have recognized the pretty girl he’d courted. Lola had changed her name and the style of her clothes. Her dark mahogany hair was now dyed coal black. That she looked like the wicked witch in a children’s fairy tale was a reality she’d come to accept.

Lucy Merriweather no longer existed. Her beauty was gone forever. Now, for Lola, only two things mattered—money and power. Those, at least, were within her reach.