That made Riley feel even worse about her initial thoughts. Yep, hell was definitely on her travel plans because she was still nervous about admitting these three to the inn. And she wasn’t going to look charitable when she questioned the pastor about them further.
She took the IDs: two driver’s licenses and a veteran card. The man with gray running through his black hair had served the country and risked his life to protect her freedom. Guilt for her attitude swirled in her stomach.
Riley scanned their cards and handed them the keys to their room.
The men grinned their thanks and headed up the stairs. The pastor was going to go with them, but she called him back.
When the men were out of earshot, she said, “I have to think about the safety of our guests, so I need more information aboutthe men. Also, do you really want to be financially liable for any damage they do to the room?”
He nodded in that assuring pastor way. “I’ve known each of them for nearly a year. We’re giving you the most stable and reliable of the group who use the shelter. They had jobs during the summer but won’t make enough to pay rent through the winter since work has dried up. In fact, if you have any odd jobs at the inn, I know they’d appreciate it if you considered them.”
And with those parting words, the pastor left.
Okay, hopefully he was right, and the men weren’t any sort of threat. They’d look better after they took a shower, although still not quite like normal guests. What would Lucas say when he saw them?
Riley pulled out her phone and called Delancey. “Hey, remember how bad you felt when you found out the way my date with Nick ended? Remember how you promised to make it up to me?”
“Um, I don’t think I actually used those words, but yeah, I’ll try to find another guy who?—”
“I need you to come to the inn after work and give three homeless guys haircuts.”
There was a pause, then Delancey said, “Did you just say homeless guys are at the inn?”
“Yes. And can you give them haircuts for free because you’re a kind and generous person who clearly has more charity than I do? I’m just worried about them hurting the inn’s reputation.”
Another pause. “Okay.”
“They also need a shave.”
“That’s not something hairstylists really do.”
“Then stop at a store and buy them an electric razor. I’ll pay for it.”
Delancey sighed but fortunately agreed.
The next person who checked in was Mrs. Bachinger. She was a local who was having renovations on her house and figured it would take a month. Riley would have considered this booking a win if Mrs. Bachinger hadn’t been the gossipy sort who liked to insert herself into other people’s business.
She wassogoing to tell everyone about the homeless men. And not in a good,Isn’t it nice that they’re helping the less fortunateway. She was going to tell people in a way that led to canceled reservations. She also nitpicked Riley about her bill, insisting she get the same month-long rate if her project finished a few days early or lasted longer.
Riley agreed, even though technically the special was for a month and wasn’t supposed to be prorated. She hoped that by making this concession, Mrs. Bachinger would feel more charitable towards the inn once she found out who else was staying there.
The next group consisted of six men who checked into three rooms under the reservation nameThe Polar Bear Health Club. She didn’t ask what that was because the men were the middle-aged, a little too jovial sort, and she’d learned from experience that those guests liked to hit on her. She didn’t want them to think they were on a first-name basis and could call her to their room for some pretend reason in order to flirt with her.
As the group tromped up the stairs, one of them said loudly to the others, “I can hardly wait to get naked!”
Yep, she’d been right not to ask.
The last check-in for the day was Mrs. Nickle, an elderly woman from Arizona, for the month-long rate. Her gray hair was cut into a pageboy, and oversized tortoiseshell glasses gave her eyes an owlish look. She dragged two big suitcases behind her with a carry-on precariously balanced on top of one. A purse large enough to be classified as a backpack was slung over her shoulder.
Arizona was beautiful in the winter, a state people usually fled to in order to avoid the snow. Riley’s curiosity got the best of her. “What brings you to Lark Springs for a month?”
Mrs. Nickle pulled off mittens that looked like they belonged on an Arctic expedition. “I’m a writer, and I’m setting my next mystery novel in a small town in Montana. This was the perfect place to come to absorb the atmosphere while I write.”
Riley took the woman’s driver’s license. “That’s dedication to the craft.”
The woman waved her hand as though fluttering away the words. “Actually, it’s writer’s block. Being here will force me to write because there’s nothing else to do around here.”
Riley tried not to feel insulted by that statement. The inn wasn’t quite so remote and desolate as all that. Lark Springs was only a twenty-minute drive away. “I hope you get a lot written.”