The Newcomer. Margot Dalton

      CHAPTER THREE

      MAGGIE AND HER BROTHER unpacked and rested for a couple of hours in their separate rooms. By the time they went downstairs, it was about seven o’clock in the evening.

      Doug Evans was behind the reception desk, on one of the tall stools occupied by his sister earlier in the day. He pored over an open ledger and punched numbers onto a computer keyboard, looking annoyed. Invoices and receipts littered the desk. Dundee lay partly upon the stack of papers, occasionally swatting playfully at the keyboard.

      “Can’t make head nor tail of this damn stuff,” Doug muttered, giving them a distracted glance. “I really should take a computer course to update my skills.”

      Maggie, who was a certified accountant in addition to holding an advanced degree in business, looked with interest at the masses of paper.

      Though her job with Natasha Dunne had involved all kinds of strange and exotic duties over the years, Maggie Embree’s first love would always be computers and bookkeeping.

      “Why don’t you hire somebody?” she asked.

      “Who would I find in this town? Anybody who’s remotely qualified has a job already. The hotel books were in a mess when I bought the place, and computer software seems to change every ten minutes.”

      “What would you say is your most immediate problem?” Maggie asked.

      “Hell, who knows?” He glared at the screen. “We need somebody to work here for a few days, at least, and design a profit-and-loss statement, cost projections and decent spreadsheets, some kind of a plan for our future computer development…”

      “Maggie could sort that out for you in ten minutes,” Terry said. “Give her a set of books and a good computer, and this girl’s a marvel.”

      Doug gave her a quick thoughtful glance that made her feel awkward again. She forced herself to meet his eyes casually.

      “Is there by any chance a dining room in the hotel, Doug?” she asked.

      For a moment he seemed both startled and a little unsettled by her casual use of his first name. Then he shook his dark head and leafed though a messy pile of invoices.

      “We serve burgers and snacks in the hotel pub, but that’s about all. Most of our guests eat their meals down the street at the Longhorn. Nora makes the best home fries in the state.”

      “The Longhorn,” Terry said, grinning. “Now, that sounds interesting. You’ll love it, Maggie.”

      She gave him a warning glance.

      “My sister’s a big-city girl,” Terry told the man behind the desk. “Maggie eats alfalfa sprouts and sushi. I’ll bet she’s never had a plate of home fries in her life.”

      “Is that so?” Doug laughed. “Well then, she’s got a terrific experience ahead of her.”

      Maggie headed for the lobby door, with Terry ambling behind her.

      “Look, quit talking to that man about me as if I’m not even there,” she muttered to her brother when they were outside on the darkened street.

      “He seems interested,” Terry said innocently as they made their way toward the restaurant. “Don’t you think?”

      “I couldn’t care less if he’s interested.” A few minutes later they reached the Longhorn. Maggie pushed open the door of the restaurant, relieved to step into the smoky warmth after the chill of the street.

      “You don’t find our laird Douglas Evans just a tiny bit attractive?” Terry followed her to a booth near the window.

      “Not a bit,” Maggie lied, sliding onto the vinyl seat. “But even if I did, I’d have to ignore those feelings,” she added.

      “You would?” Terry smiled at a waitress in a checked apron who arrived to hand them a couple of gingham-patterned menus. “Why?”

      “Because feelings like that would complicate the job I’ve come here to do.”

      “Mags, you have no intention of doing that job. Unlike our Natasha, you’re not entirely crazy.” His eyes sparkled. “Just a wee bit smitten,” he said in a mock brogue.

      Maggie ignored her brother’s teasing and frowned at the menu. “Do you suppose they have something like a salad? It seems this is all meat and potatoes.”

      “You’d better get used to some dietary changes if you want to make any friends here,” Terry said mildly. “Look at this place, Maggie. It’s terrific.”

      She glanced around at the restaurant, which could have been lifted directly from a fifties movie. But the effect wasn’t cutesy and artificial like similar establishments in Los Angeles. The Longhorn had a look of authenticity, as if thousands of people had sat in these booths over the years, ordered from the same menus, studied their reflections in the polished chrome napkin holders and played selections on the individual jukeboxes above each table.

      “Isn’t it great?” Terry said.

      “Yes,” she said. “The place has a wonderful ambience. And,” she added with sudden inexplicable sadness, “I’m afraid it soon could belong to Natasha Dunne, along with everything else in this town.”

      Terry gave her a quick glance but didn’t respond. They ordered mushroom burgers and home fries, and Maggie ate the rich food with guilty pleasure.

      “Oh, this is so good.” she sighed, wiping a trickle of mayonnaise from her chin.

      “Welcome to the real world.” Terry grinned, saluting her with a forkful of coleslaw. “Maybe this new assignment of yours is going to be a valuable experience for you, kiddo.”

      “In what way?”

      His face was suddenly grave. “I’m hoping by the time you’re done, this town will own you, instead of the other way around.”

      “Terry, what do you mean?” Maggie asked, genuinely puzzled.

      But he refused to elaborate. Half an hour later, he paused outside the restaurant with his hands deep in his pockets.

      “You can find your way back to the hotel, can’t you?” He glanced at her. “It’s only a couple of blocks away, and I want to go for a walk.”

      “Where?” she asked.

      He turned, looking a little evasive. “Just down there by the river,” he said, then headed off into a darkness lit in ghostly fashion by street lamps circled with frost.

      Maggie watched her younger brother, troubled by conflicting emotions.

      Her research file had stated that Rose Murdoch and her two daughters lived down by the river…

      But Terry was an adult, and his personal life was none of her business.

      Maggie turned up her jacket collar against the chill and wandered back toward the hotel, pausing briefly outside Wall’s Drugstore, which appeared to be open for business.

      A fat, swarthy man worked behind the counter, and a slim blond woman stood nearby. Muffled in a long coat and damask scarf, she leaned wearily against a tall cowboy in a sheepskin coat and Stetson. The woman held some toiletries, which she placed on the counter.

      When the customer stepped back and her coat swung open, Maggie realized the woman was pregnant. The man at her side, a smiling, handsome fellow with curly auburn hair, hugged his wife and whispered something to her, with a look of tenderness that made Maggie feel lonely and excluded.

      The couple gathered up their purchases and left. As they passed by and the two women glanced at each other, Maggie was stunned by the tall blonde’s effortless grace and style. This woman could have been the president of some major corporation in the city, or even one of Natasha’s glamorous friends.

      Not