Angels Fall

slightly larger than the one in her hotel room with a white pedestal sink and an old cast-iron claw-toot tub. Rust stains bloomed around their drams. The mirror over the sink was spotted, the tiles a stark white with black borders.
    The main room held a sagging plaid sofa, a single faded blue armchair and a couple tables holding lamps that had obviously been tlea market bargains.
    She was smiling even before she turned to walk to the windows. A trio of them faced the mountains, and seemed to open up the world. She could see the sky where the blue streaks were fighting to overtake the dull white, and the lake where that blue was shimmering against the gray.
    The snow people were melting into deformed hobbits that spread low over the winter-brown grasses. The willows were shabby bent sticks, and the cottonwoods shivered. Shadows shifted over the snow-laced peaks as the clouds gathered and parted, and she thought she saw a faint glimmer that might have been an alpine lake.
    The town with its slushy streets, its cheerful white gazebo, its rustic cabins spread out below her. Standing where she was she felt a part of it, yet still safe and separate.
    "I could be happy here," she murmured. "I could be okay here."
    She'd have to buy some things. Towels, sheets, kitchen supplies, cleaning supplies. She thought of the paycheck in her pocket, the tip money squirreled away. She could manage the essentials. And it could be fun. The first time she'd bought her own things in nearly a year.
    Big step, she thought, then immediately began to second-guess herself. Was it too big a step, too soon? Renting an apartment, buying sheets. What if she had to leave? What if she got fired? What if—
    "God, I annoy myself," she muttered. "What-ifs are for tomorrow. The moment's what matters. And at this moment, I want to live here."
    As she thought it, clouds parted and a beam of fragile sunlight arrowed through them.
    That, she decided, was enough of a sign. She'd make a try here, for as long as it lasted.
    She heard footsteps on the stairs outside, and the bubble of fear opened in her chest. Groping in her pocket, she closed her hand around her panic button, gripped one of the tacky table lamps with the other.
    When Joanie opened the door, Reece set the lamp down as if she'd been examining it.
    "Ugly, but it gives decent light," Joanie said, and left it at that.
    "Sorry, I took longer than I meant to. I'll go right down."
    "No rush. We're slow, and Beck's on the grill. Long as it's nothing too complicated, he can handle things. You want the place or not?"
    "Yes, if I can manage the rent. You never said what—"
    In shirtsleeves, her stained apron and her thick-soled shoes, Joanie took a quick pass around the room. Then she named a monthly figure that was slightly less than the hotel rate.
    "That's including your heat and lights, unless I find you've gone crazy there. You want a phone, that's on you. Same thing if you get it into your head you want to paint the walls. I don't want a bunch of noise up here during business hours."
    "I'm pretty quiet. I'd rather we do it by the week. I like to pay as I go."
    "Doesn't matter to me as long as the rent's on time. You can move in today if you want."
    "Tomorrow. I need to get some things."
    "Suits me. Pretty sparse in here." Joanie's eagle eyes tracked around the room. "I probably have a few things sitting around I can bring up. You need help moving your stuff, Pete and Beck'll give you a hand with it."
    "I appreciate it. All of it."
    "You're paying your way. You got that raise coming."
    "Thanks."
    "No need for gratitude on something that was agreed on from the get-go. You do the job and you don't cause trouble. Don't ask questions, either. Now I figure that's either because you were absent the day they handed out your portion of curiosity, or you don't want questions asked back."
    "Is that a question or a statement?"
    "But you're not stupid." Joanie's hand patted her apron pocket where Reece knew she kept a pack of cigarettes. "Let's get this said. You got trouble. Anybody with two licks of sense can see it just by looking at you. I guess you've got what they like to call issues ."
    "Is that what they call them?" Reece murmured.
    "The way I see it, if you're working through them or just standing still, it's your business. But you don't let it get in the way of your job, so that's mine. You're a good worker, and you're a better cook than I ever had behind the grill. I figure on making use of that,