“Actually,” I said, putting the room key on the chest-high partition between us, “I’d like to see about getting a different room. We need two beds, not one. My fault for not making that clear.” I smiled as if I hadn’t heard anything.

The man’s gaze went to Jenks, and he flushed deeper. “Ah, yes. Number thirteen, right?” he said, snatching it and giving me a new one.

Jenks headed for the knickknacks, but at my heavy sigh, he went to the pamphlets instead. Setting my bag on the counter, I smugly asked, “What’s the price difference for that?”

“None,” was his quick reply. “Same rate. Anything else I can do for you? Make reservations for you and the rest of your party, maybe?” He blinked, looking ill. “Will they be staying with us as well?”

Jenks turned to look out the glassed door, his hand to his smooth chin while he tried not to laugh. “No,” I said lightly. “They called to tell us they found a place on the other side of town that filled up their pool with lake water. That wins out over moldy bathrooms any day.”

The man’s mouth worked but nothing came out.

Jenks jerked into motion, and I glanced behind me to see him hunched and gripping one of the pamphlets close to his face. “Thank you,” I said, holding up the key and smiling. “We may be staying a second night. Do you have any two-day specials?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, eyes going relieved. “Second night is half price during the off-season. I’ll put you down for it if you like.” He glanced at his unseen wife through the archway.

“That sounds great,” I said. “And a late checkout for Tuesday?”

“Late checkout on Tuesday,” he said, scribbling something in his registration book. “No problem. We appreciate your business.”

I nodded and smiled, touching Jenks’s arm and pulling him out the door since he wasn’t moving, fixed to the pamphlet in his grip. “Thanks,” I called cheerfully. “Have a good night.”

The door chimes thunked dully, and I exhaled into the cooler night air. The parking lot was silent but for the nearby traffic. Satisfied, I glanced at the key in the dim light under the canopy. Room eleven this time.

“Rache.” Jenks shoved the pamphlet at me. “Here. He’s here. I know it! Get in the van. They close in ten minutes!”

“Jenks!” I exclaimed when he grabbed my arm and pulled me stumbling across the lot. “Jenks, wait up! Jax? He’s where?”

“There,” he said, shaking the pamphlet in front of my face. “That’s where I would go.”

Bewildered, I peered at the colorful trifolded paper in the dim light of the streetlamp. My lips parted and I reached to dig my keys out while Jenks threw our stuff back into the van and slammed the motel door shut, shaking in impatience.

The Butterfly Shack. Of course.

Nine

Humming nervously, Jenks put the jar of honey in the basket with my bandages and the rest of his groceries. He fidgeted, and my eyebrows rose. “Honey, Jenks?” I questioned.