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She stood up and headed for the door without saying a word.
“You’re forgetting the check,” Christian said.
Marley didn’t even look at him; all of her disappointment and rage was directed at the woman she’d considered a friend. “I worked with you for seven years. I confided in you, shared my dreams with you. I know I made a mistake, but what you’re doing? What you’re accepting from the Stadarskis is exactly why so many of the horrible women who come through here as brides think they can treat us any way they want. They don’t see us as anything but the help, and undeserving of basic common courtesy. And you see them as dollar bills. A way to keep your company afloat. I get it, it’s business, but I don’t have to be a part of it.”
“Marley…” Kelly started, but she cut her off.
“You can keep the check; I’ll help my mother rebuild, without the Stadarskis thinking they can buy their troubles away. All they care about is money; just like you.”
Kelly stood up, her face sheet white, but Marley didn’t care what she had to say. She was done with all of it.
She passed by the reception desk, but didn’t stop to talk to Rylie or Josephine, their newest hire. She needed air.
The minute she hit the sidewalk, she started running. Past the charred remnants of the Sweetheart Café. The Love Shack hotel. Honey-Moon Intimate Apparel. She kept running out of town and up the hill to Buzzard Gulch, her lungs burning as she cried, gulping for air. She finally slowed as she reached the center of the old ghost town and screamed, using whatever oxygen was left in her lungs. She railed until she was hoarse, cursing Sonora, Kelly, the Stadarskis…
“Damn you!” She threw her hands up in the air, staring into the dark clouds forming above and yelled again. “Damn you! What the hell did I do? What did my family do? Are you even up there listening? Is this a joke to you? Is my life and my failures some kind of entertainment you can’t stop watching?”
There was the distant rumble of thunder, but nothing else. She collapsed in the dirt, her shoulders shaking violently, unable to stop the sobs.
The storm drew closer, but she paid it no attention, wallowing too deep in her troubles.
If she’d been smart, she would have taken the money. Insurance on the diner wasn’t going to be enough to cover all of the equipment that they needed to replace. Her mom was going to have to take out an equity line of credit, if she even qualified, and Marley had already given her every penny she’d ever saved. No more New York.
The funny thing was, that as she sat there, hysterically losing her shit, she didn’t have any tears for the dream she’d clung to for nearly ten years.
Maybe because my dreams changed.
The crack of thunder above pulled her out of her meltdown, and she climbed to her feet as huge drops of rain started falling. Splashing her cheek, her shoulder, running down the back of her neck.
Just what she needed, to run home in a thunderstorm.
Suddenly, the sky lit up and a bolt of lightning hit the saloon. Sparks shot up out of the center as the ground shook beneath her feet. A high-pitched sound rang in her ears and she realized it was her screaming in terror.
She held her hand over her chest, her heart pounding against her palm, and then it stopped altogether when she saw the first flame climb up over the second floor, like a long arm waving. Inside the windows were no longer dark, but an eerie glow of yellow, orange, and red danced behind the dirty glass and it finally sank in.
The fire in the saloon was spreading quickly. Too quickly.
Marley pulled her phone out of her pocket, and dialed 911. Another lightning strike hit just over the hill and she shivered as she realized how close she’d come to being struck.
When the dispatcher picked up, another rumble above her head told Marley she needed to find shelter. Fast.
“Hi, this is Marley Stevenson, and I’m up at Buzzard Gulch, the old Ghost Town above Sweetheart? A bolt of lightning just struck one of the buildings and it’s burning.” Smoke
billowed and now the flames were gathering on the roof. “Hurry, before it all burns down.”
* * * *
An hour and a half later, the storm had passed. Marley sat on the boardwalk in front of the old town hall, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Rylie had come to get her an hour ago, but Marley refused to leave until she saw all the damage.
Men and women from the El Dorado County Fire Department meandered around now, after managing to put out the flames before the fire spread too far.
They hadn’t been able to save the saloon though. There wasn’t anything left of her favorite building but a few boards and the front sign, which was a little charred on the top.
“Honestly, they should just bulldoze this whole thing,” one of the firefighters said to another.
Marley stood up angrily, shaking under the blanket they’d given her. “Are you kidding me? This is a historical landmark.”
The guy shot her a look of disbelief. “It’s a death trap, lady.”
