Rainshadow Road (Friday Harbor #2)(21)

Getting back to the inn wouldn’t be a problem, since it was relatively close. But the idea of having to hassle with mechanics, and pay for budget-blowing repair work, was too much. Lucy leaned her head on the steering wheel. This was the sort of thing that Kevin had always handled for her. “One of the perks,” he’d quipped, after making certain the oil was changed and the wiper blades replaced.

Without a doubt, Lucy reflected bleakly, the worst part of being a single woman was having to take care of your own car. She wanted a drink, a shot of something strong and anesthetizing.

Climbing out of the lifeless car, she walked to a bar near the harbor, where people could watch the boats and see the loading and unloading of ferries. The bar had once been a saloon in the eighteen hundreds, established to serve prospectors on their way to British Columbia during the Fraser Gold Rush. By the time the prospectors had gone, the saloon had acquired a new clientele of soldiers, pioneers, and Hudson Bay employees. Over the decades, it had turned into a venerable old bar.

A series of musical notes spilled from her bag as the cell phone rang. Fumbling among the assortment of objects—lip gloss, loose change, a pack of gum—Lucy managed to pull the phone from her bag. Recognizing Justine’s number, she answered wanly. “Hi.”

“Where are you?” her friend asked without preamble.

“Walking in town.”

“Susan Seburg just called me. I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t either,” Lucy said. “Kevin’s going to be my brother-in-law.”

“Susan feels like shit for being the one to tell you.”

“She shouldn’t. I was going to find out about it sooner or later. My mom left a message this morning—I’m sure it had to do with the engagement.”

“Are you okay?”

“No. But I’m going out for a drink, and then I’ll be okay. You can meet me if you want.”

“Come home and I’ll whip up some margaritas.”

“Thanks,” Lucy said, “but it’s too quiet at the inn. I want to be at a bar with people. A lot of noisy people with problems.”

“Okay,” Justine said, “so where—”

The phone beeped, cutting her friend off. Lucy looked down at the tiny screen, which featured a blinking red battery symbol. She had just run out of juice.

“Figures,” she muttered. Dropping the spent phone back into her bag, she went into the shadowy interior of the bar. The place had a distinctive old-building smell, sweet and musty and dark.

Since it was still early evening, the after-work crowd hadn’t yet appeared. Lucy went to the end of the bar where the shadows were darkest, and studied the drink menu. Lucy ordered a lemon drop, made with vodka, muddled lemons, and triple sec, served in a sugar-rimmed glass. It went down her throat with a pleasant chill.

“Like a kiss from an iceberg, isn’t it?” the bartender, a blond woman named Marty, asked with a grin.

Draining the glass, Lucy nodded and set it aside. “Another one, please.”

“That’s pretty fast. You want some munchies? Nachos or jalapeño poppers, maybe?”

“No, just another drink.”

Marty gave her a dubious look. “I hope you’re not driving after this.”

Lucy laughed bitterly. “Nope. My car just broke down.”

“One of those days, huh?”

“One of those years,” Lucy said.

The bartender took her time about getting her the next drink. Turning on the bar stool, Lucy glanced at the other patrons at the bar, some lined up at the other end, others gathered at tables. At one table, a half-dozen bikers knocked back beers and made raucous conversation.

Too late, Lucy realized they were from the biker church, and that Justine’s boyfriend, Duane, was among them. Before she could look away, he glanced in her direction.

From across the room, Duane motioned for her to join them.

She shook her head and gave him a little wave before turning back to the bar.

But the big, kindhearted biker lumbered over to her and clapped an amiable hand between her shoulder blades.

“Lucy-goosey,” he said, “how’s it going?”

“Just stopped for a quick one,” Lucy replied with a halfhearted smile. “How are you, Duane?”

“Can’t complain. Come sit with me and the guys. We’re all from Hog Heaven.”

“Thanks, Duane. I appreciate the invitation. But I really, really need to be alone right now.”

“What’s wrong?” At her hesitation, he said, “Anything bothers you, we’ll take care of it, remember?”

As Lucy stared up into the broad face swathed in oversized sideburns, her smile became genuine. “Yes, I remember. You guys are my guardian angels.”

“So tell me your problem.”

“Two problems,” she said. “First, my car is dead. Or at least it’s in a coma.”

“Is it the battery?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t know.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Duane said readily. “What’s the other problem?”

“My heart feels like something that should be scooped up with a folded newspaper and dropped in the trash can.”

The biker gave her a sympathetic glance. “Justine told me about your boyfriend. Want me and the boys to take him down for you?”