Part 10 (1/2)
Stunned, Anne stared at her. ”Why? It's not like you've enjoyed working with me.”
Sam shrugged. ”I guess I'd rather have the devil I know than the one I don't.”
”Me being that devil?” Anne said curtly.
”Exactly.” Sam studied Anne carefully. ”You may be bossy and pigheaded, but at least you've been straight with me. And you don't take any bulls.h.i.+t.” A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. ”As evidenced by the fact that you came back even though I kicked you out.”
”Speaking of which-”
Sam held up a hand, silencing her. ”I know. Not one b.u.m leg, but now two. Do you have any idea how embarra.s.sed I was? Falling flat like that? Then having a stranger cart me around like I was a baby?” Her hand dropped. ”I needed to be alone for a while. I'm not stupid . . . I knew you'd be back.”
Anne felt a subtle s.h.i.+ft in power. She now owed her job to Sam. Did that mean she had to answer not only to Sam's father, but to Sam, too? If so, it wouldn't work. Based on Sam's behavior the last couple of weeks, Anne couldn't afford to let her have the upper hand. And that's exactly what she'd have. She'd be able to remind her every time she didn't want to do something that it was thanks to her that she still had a job. Anne couldn't be effective under those conditions.
”Look, thank you for convincing your father not to fire me, but maybe it would be best if you worked with someone else.”
”Why? Afraid I'll hold getting your job back over your head?”
Anne grimaced. ”To be honest . . . yes.”
”I won't,” Sam replied sincerely. ”You know what you're doing, but I need you to back off a little.” Her attention traveled to the window as she s.h.i.+fted nervously. ”Before the attack, I ran my own life. Now I'm told when to get up, when to go to bed, what to eat, what not to eat. I'm sick of it.”
”You want to call a truce? Is that it?”
”Yes.”
Anne's gaze roamed around the bedroom. ”I won't let you hibernate.”
”I don't expect you to.”
She thought of the pile of bills lying on the kitchen and her eyes narrowed. ”The first time you threaten to go to your father, I'm out of here.”
”Fair enough,” Sam replied.
With a glance over her shoulder, Anne moved away from the door. Could she trust the girl? Or would she play the prima donna? Time would tell, but every dollar she earned here would be one less dollar lost out of savings-that was enough at this point. Anne took a half step before Sam called out, stopping her.
”Wait a second-who is Greg Clemons?”
Anne noticed two faint red splotches appear on Sam's cheeks. She must really have been embarra.s.sed earlier if even the mention of Greg's name made her blush.
”If you're worried Greg will gossip about you, don't,” she said with a shrug. ”Greg's a good guy, keeps mostly to himself, and doesn't spread tales.” Anne's thoughts flashed to Esther Dunlap and Fritz Thorpe, and she frowned. ”Not like some others I could name around here.”
”He works for the animal shelter?”
”Yes.” Anne tugged on her bottom lip. How much should she tell Sam? Greg was a friend, and after mentally condemning Esther and Fritz for their loose lips, she couldn't very well reveal his secrets. ”He not only works at the shelter, but takes in the worst cases of abuse, rehabilitates them, then finds homes for them.”
Sam c.o.c.ked her head. ”When I knocked, I heard a saxophone.”
”Yeah, that was Greg. He loves jazz.”
”I've never cared for it,” Sam replied, her lip curling.
”Ah, something you have in common with Fritz Thorpe. He doesn't like it either. He's been trying to get Greg to play with him for years, but Greg won't play what Fritz wants.” Anne gave a small chuckle. ”I think he refuses just to irritate Fritz.”
”Mr. Thorpe is a musician?”
”Oh yeah,” she answered with a vigorous nod. ”He's a retired music professor.”
”He's fairly young to be retired, isn't he?”
She hesitated. Fritz might not be her favorite person, but she didn't feel the need to relate the old stories of why he had taken early retirement.
Ignoring Sam's question, she continued, ”According to some, he's even composed a few pieces.” She caught the look of surprise on Sam's face. ”You're shocked?”
”Well . . . yeah. I wouldn't have expected, ah, um . . .”
”Culture in the backwoods of Minnesota?”
Sam bobbed her head.
Anne turned on her heel. ”You'll find that there are a lot of unexpected things around here.”
A hand shaking her shoulder awoke Anne from a sound sleep. Rolling over on the couch, she opened her eyes to see Sam's face looming over her in the pale moonlight. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and sat up.
”What are you doing out of bed? Your ankle. You shouldn't be putting any weigh-”
”Shh.” Sam silenced her while she leaned heavily against the arm of the couch. ”She's back.”
”Who?”
”The woman,” Sam answered in a voice tight with fear.
”What woman?”
”There's a woman, dressed in a nightgown, standing at the end of the dock.”
”Impossible,” Anne said, throwing off the light blanket covering her. She swung her legs off the couch and, with quick strides, crossed the room to the patio door. Flinging the curtains open, she peered into the darkness. Nothing. She opened the door and stepped out onto the deck.
Across the lake, lights from Fritz's cabin flickered, and she heard the light notes of a saxophone drifting on the breeze. Walking along the edge of the deck, she looked over the side. Again, nothing. Rolling her eyes, she went back inside.
Turning, she locked the door to the deck and flicked on a light. Sam sat on the couch, her face white and her eyes huge. Anne shook her head. ”There's no one out there.”
”Didn't you hear the whispers?”