“That's okay,” I said. “Everything alright?”
She sighed and set her elbows on the desk, placing her forehead into her palms. “Dandy. Just dandy.”
I sat down in the chair across from her. The ancient window AC unit was plugged in now and a faint blast of cool air trickled out of it. “I saw Mr. Ellington leaving. And I couldn't help but overhear part of your conversation.”
She pulled her head up. “I'm sorry. I was a little loud.”
“That's okay. You've got a lot to deal with.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, I do.” She glanced to the door. “Davis means well, but it was just not what I wanted this afternoon.”
I thought back to our earlier conversation with the sheriff. She was right; she had enough on her plate with his visit without throwing a real estate agent panting after her land into the mix.
“Is he trying to help?” I asked.
She shrugged. “In his own way, yes. He thinks I should sell Windy Vista now before it gets worse.”
“But you don't want to.”
“But I don't want to,” she repeated. “I really don't. And I know what he's saying. If I sold it now before I really go under, there would probably be some profit in it for me and I wouldn't walk away with nothing. But...” She shook her head. “I just keep thinking something will happen to turn it around. And I'm not ready to give it up. Yet.”
“Could he find someone to buy it?” Her eyes clouded and I quickly added, “I don't mean that you should. Just curious if he could find a buyer right away.”
“Probably,” she said. “Davis seems to know everyone. But it wouldn't be Windy Vista anymore. They'd tear it down, raze everything and probably build McMansions on the land.” She pursed her lips. “And me going into bankruptcy seems better than that.”
I wasn't sure that was true, but I could see what she meant. She didn't want to see her life's work bulldozed and turned into something soulless and generic. It would be gone and there'd be no way to hang onto it and that had to be an incredibly difficult future to contemplate.
“Anyway,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “Enough about that. Davis has always been after something of mine. At least that's the way it seems.”
I glanced at her, curious, and she offered a tired smile.
“I know it's hard to imagine, but I was quite a looker back in the day,” she said.
My cheeks reddened. “I'm sure you were.”
“He's been trying to woo me for years.” She rolled her eyes and offered a rueful smile. “We tried being a couple but it just didn't work.”
I had a hard time picturing her with the man who ate meat and sauerkraut sandwiches for lunch and who tried to talk me into putting a down payment on a lot for a development he was still finalizing. He seemed completely disingenuous and Delilah was the most down-to-earth person on the planet.
“I'm glad you aren't a couple,” I told her.
“Me, too,” she said, nodding. “Davis is harmless as a fly but he's about as persistent as one, too. Still asks me out every once in a while.” She chuckled, then pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Anyway, I'm tired of thinking about all of it. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I'm not sure you can,” I said, now feeling a little guilty about why I was there. “But I wanted to ask you a question.”
She opened her eyes and waited.
“Were Harvey and Wayne Hackerman friends?”
Delilah thought for a moment. “I'm not sure Wayne has what you and I might consider friends, but he and Harvey seemed to get along well enough, I guess. Why?”
“Would there have been any reason they would've been arguing about money?” I asked.
“None that I can think of,” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “Why are you asking?”
“I heard that they were,” I said. “Arguing about money. A few days before he died.”
Delilah frowned. “Like Harvey owed him money or something?”
“I don't know,” I answered truthfully. “Just that someone saw them arguing, that it wasn't particularly pleasant and that it was about money.”
She gazed out the window, lost in thought. “I honestly have no idea. Wayne is like a volunteer assistant manager around here sometimes. He can be a genuine pain in the rear, but he's also been coming here for years and knows the ins and outs of the place. And he's pretty good with a toolbox, so he'll help out his fellow campers if they need a hand.” She paused. “As far as I know, he and Harvey never had a problem. Wayne's a blowhard and Harvey knew that, but Harvey was also incredibly patient and willing to look for the good in most folks. So I think he preferred to see Wayne as helpful rather than a problem.” She shrugged. “So you got me.”
I nodded. So maybe it had been nothing. Maybe it had been a simple misunderstanding or maybe Copper had gotten it all wrong. I felt very foolish for having brought it to her attention when she had bigger worries on her plate. I didn't want to be starting trouble where it didn't need to be started.
“It was probably a misunderstanding,” I said, standing up. “Probably nothing.”
“Yeah, Copper likes to make mountains out of molehills sometimes,” she said, chuckling and shaking her head.
I didn't bother hiding my surprise. “How did you know it was Copper who told me?”
“Because it sounds like something Copper would say,” she answered. “And because she's been doing the same thing as long as I've known her. Makes everyone's business her own and thinks it's her job to stir the pot. Don't get me wrong. She's not trying to do any harm.” Delilah smiled. “But Copper has been known to get a few things wrong in the name of turning a good tale.”
I held up my hand. “Enough said. I'm sorry for coming to you with something silly.”
“Oh, it's fine,” she said, waving her hand in the air again. “And she probably did hear something like that. But I'd bet it isn't nearly as dramatic as she made it out to be.”
“You're probably right,” I said. “And now I'll stop bothering you and let you get back to work.”
Delilah's smiled faded and she nodded slowly. “Yes. Work. I should probably try and do some of that.” She picked up a pencil from her desk, then thought better of it and set it back down. “Speaking of work, I haven't been a very good hostess. Everything okay for you and the mister?”
I immediately thought of the slashed tire and the fact that a tow truck would be arriving at the resort sooner rather than later. I knew I should tell her but I didn't want to add one more worry to her growing list.
“Better than okay,” I said brightly.
She nodded, relieved. “Good. At least there's one thing going right around here.”
TWENTY THREE
I walked back to the cabin to find Jake stretched out on the sofa with a book. I told him where I'd been and what Delilah said.
“Not totally surprised,” he said, rubbing my knee as I sank down next to him. “Everyone around here seems like they care about everyone else's business.”
He was right. It was a bit like a junior high school hallway, with gossip and innuendo everywhere you looked. And we were the new kids, unsure of what was true and what wasn't.
We grilled burgers for dinner and, after the tow truck arrived to carry the rental car away, we opted to take the golf cart out for a slow, sunset cruise. We made our way to the trail and navigated the steep terrain and Jake pressed hard on the gas pedal, quickly passing the area where we'd found Harvey's body. I kept my eyes averted from the brush-filled forest, focusing instead on the dirt trail in front of us. We continued down to what was known as the lower campground. The roads were unpaved and it looked more like your traditional campground, with tents and older RVs populating most of the lots. We found another pool and then a small park and drove down each of the roads, looking for signs of where everyone was from: license plates, sports flags, anything that told us where people had arrived from. I think we were both surprised to see that people came from all over. My heart hurt again for a moment, thinking of how it all might be gone because of Delilah's financial circumstances and I wondered if and when she planned to tell everyone that this was the last summer.