CHAPTER 25

Charlotte fought hard to persuade Haetel to leave her at the motel. But she couldn't go back to the Stark house. She wasn't welcome there. John had made that very clear.

To call the Do Drop Inn a dump would be an understatement. It was a modest office and a row of roughly 10 rooms. The rusted screens were scattered around the cracked concrete, and the army-green paint was flaking. The shattered awning caused the vacant sign to droop sideways. The setting resembled something from an Alfred Hitchcock film.

She started to beg Hae not to leave her, but pride, stubborn pride, made her get out of the car. Waving goodbye, she stepped into the dingy office and caught her breath at the stench of cigarette smoke.

Behind the counter, an elderly woman who had to be at least eighty sat smoking, the cigarette dangling from her lips.

The woman asked in a raspy vice, "What you need?"

"A room, please."

"The boyfriend outside?"

She inhaled and immediately regretted it. Smoke invaded her lungs.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she said simply.

"A beautiful thing like you by yourself? That doesn't make sense. Why do you want to stay 'here'?

Charlotte decided that she didn't have to respond. "A room, please."

A few minutes later Charlotte stood in a room that chilled her to the bone. It was obvious that the carpet hadn't been swept in weeks or even ever because it looked more like dirt. The stale smell of dig arette smoke and mildew was even worse. The bathroom was disgusting. She hurriedly shut the door and fixed her gaze on the dirty bedspread.

She couldn't stay here. She couldn't even breathe without feeling nauseous.

Two enormous cockroaches crawled across the carpet in quick succession. The critters were probably using this as a breeding place. Panic seized her.

Just then a rat the size of a squirrel darted under the bathroom door. Charlotte screamed and jumped onto the bed, removing a sandal. It was all she had to protect herself.

Panic nudged desperation and fear. What was she going to do? If this was growing up, then it sucked.

She could be in her tastefully decorated bedroom, soaking in her Jacuzzi, anything she wanted at her fingertips. But, oh, no, she had to do the right thing.

'Pick up your phone and dial Henry'. All she needed to do to put her fears to rest was that. She would be the cream puff she had always thought she was. Her relatives and friends would agree. Her life was meaningless. She was meaningless. Admit it and get the hell out of this hick town.

But she remained still.

In that moment she knew without a doubt that she had lost her mind- -all because 'his' opinion mattered.

"Go to hell, John Stark," she yelled at the rat, and then she burst into tears.

Towards the middle of the afternoon, John's conscience ratcheted into overdrive. He wouldn't sentence anyone to that fleabag motel, so he couldn't leave Ms. Lily there and live with himself.

He drove to the hotel and asked Mrs. Bobby her room number. Mrs. Bobby was extremely curious, just like everyone else in Horseshoe.

"Sheriff, what did she do? Is she the woman everyone keeps mentioning?"

He ignored the question. "The room number, please?"

"Two."

A rat scurried across his boot and he cursed. "Mrs. Bobby, your son has been warned about getting this place up to code."

"That's Dave's responsibility. I simply watch the desk."

His sinuses were clogged by smoke. "One month." He displayed a finger. "If it's not up to code, the town will close it down, and I'll be happy to carry out the order."

Mrs. Bobby responded by releasing smoke rings into the air. John left.

He went to room number two and knocked. "Ms. Lily, it's the sheriff. Open up."

"I can't." came through the thin-paneled door.

"Why not?"

"Because...because..."

He tried to push the door and it opened. Ms. Lily stood in the center of the bed with a sandal in her hand and a look of panic on her face.

"What are you doing?"

"Defending myself from a giant rat."

"Let's go," he said.

"Where?" She had the audacity to question him.

"To my mom's."

"Why?"

"Do we need to debate this here, Ms. Lily?"

"I won't leave until you call me Charlotte."

Was she serious?

"Listen, do you want to leave this place or not? I'm not going to argue with you."

"My name is Charlotte," she stated, and slid a foot into the sandal.

The urge to turn around and go away was strong, but he knew that if he did, his mother would never let him hear the last of it. And he wouldn't wish this place on his worst enemy.

"You're still in my custody." He paused. He knew that as soon as he addressed her by her first name, the dynamics between them would shift for some reason. He prefers to leave things as they are.

"Bull."

"Damn it, woman. Get your ass in my car or I'm leaving you here." Turning, his long strides carried him to his vehicle.

She was at the passenger side before he could open his door. Hiding a smile, he slid into his seat.

"I'm not going to thank you since I know it wasn't your idea." She said as he backed out.

"Ms. Lily, don't push your luck."

"Charlotte," she said.

He glanced briefly at her and said what she wanted him to "Charlotte."

The name was a new sensation to his tongue, his senses. He wanted it to feel foreign and unfamiliar, but it felt good. It re minded him of chocolate-covered strawberries and champagne. Celebration. Seductive smiles. Long, lazy nights and tangled

sheets.

He immediately rejected the images. But his body had already formed a welcome party. His heart never would, though.

His heart belonged to Sarah.