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With his girlfriend out of town, Zach Leon does his best to muddle through the business of running his father's motel. And serving as a voice of reason, in a bizarre little town...

It's Labor Day, so let's take summer out in style! Pretty much a standalone Cannon Shoals story, set around the same time as the last few. More functional relationships? What is Cannon Shoals even coming to! Fortunately Allison Navarro is here to help hint at other things, but mostly this is about two pretty nice people dealing with being separated. Plus some Gordon Lightfoot, because why not? If you don't know Joan and Zach already, they started dating in "The Oregon Rain," last year. Thanks to Spudz for helping man the editing desk.

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

---

"Rainy Day People," by Rob Baird

Zach Leon played idly with his phone; there was nothing better to summon his attention. The Beachcomb-Inn had been getting too many guests to leave the front desk unattended, but too few to keep the red squirrel constantly busy.

Plus, the phone was his portal into something far more important. He watched a game of solitaire only half-interested, waiting for the notification that finally popped up:

I am very hot right now

There was no context for it. Zach laughed with overcautious softness to himself -- for he was alone -- and tapped a message back: What do you mean "right now"?

its about a thousand degrees and paul wants to walk everywhere :c

As he was considering his reply a picture came through. He found himself looking at his girlfriend, Joan Findlay, with the blue skies and palm trees of Las Vegas behind her. The Border Collie's muzzle hung open, and her long canine tongue lolled dramatically as she glared severely at the photographer -- probably Paul himself.

She looked ridiculous. Zach grinned, as though she could've seen him doing it, all those hundreds of miles away. She was with Paul Fisher at a conference for developers of "educational technology," whatever that was. Paul ran a bookstore, but he fancied himself an entrepreneur and since Joan and he were kindred spirits she'd finally let him convince her to tag along.

You look like you're having fun, Zach said.

so hot, was her answer.

It was, after all, very near the height of summer. All the visitors from the Fourth of July were gone, true, but a steady stream of lost souls wandering down 101 made sure that the motel had plenty of customers.

And in the bars and at Stach's Grounds, the townspeople had the sense that Cannon Shoals itself was coming back to life. That perhaps the previous year, with its miserable weather and one bit of bad news after the other, had been the nadir.

Zach wanted to believe that. He was happy to see people working again, happy that the mood in the café had lifted; happy with more traffic on the road and with the shops reopening. They'd even needed to hire additional summer staff, for the first time in years and years.

And sometimes he even could believe it.

Sometimes it was harder. His parents were gone again, in Corvallis, where his father was back in the hospital. More tests; more rounds of treatment. His dad said it was all a matter of precaution and preparedness. I'll be back at the end of the week, he promised.

Until then, Zach was by himself. Just the other employees, when they appeared, and the rattle of the old ice machine. And Joan, typing at him over the phone. And the guests. He looked up to see two of them now, trundling in from the outside with the stiff gait brought by long hours behind the wheel.

"Good afternoon," Zach said politely, when the first of them reached the counter. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have a room?" There was a big sign out in front of the Beachcomb-Inn. It said "VACANCY."

Clarence Leon, Zach's father, felt that neon was the best form of advertising -- but it didn't seem to matter to many of the guests, who acted perplexed anyway. Zach was used to the question.

"Sure. One bed or two?"

He looked tired, worn out by a hard day of traveling. "Oh, uh..."

The bear looked over at his companion -- they seemed to be about the same age, so Zach figured she was his wife. In turn, she glanced over her shoulder toward the parking lot, where their minivan was still running.

"Sorry," the man said at last. "Two. You can do that?"

"Yeah." Zach tapped on the keyboard to summon the motel's antiquated, hateful reservation software to life. It would take some time. His ex-girlfriend, Amanda, had been a programmer like her sister; he'd done what he could to get his father to hire either of them to fix their PC.

Clarence was the kind of hard-nosed businessman who would try to haggle five cents off a value meal at McDonald's, though, so that had never happened. And Amanda wound up leaving anyway, like her sister had done.

The computer was still loading. "So, where are you guys headed?"

"Oh, uh, well, eventually Redding..."

"Randy figured we'd add in a road trip," his wife added. "Because the kids haven't seen much of the coast. We just didn't know how long it would take."

Randy nodded wearily. "Got stuck behind a motor home up at Pacific City. Thirty minutes doing maybe twenty miles an hour."

"And you weren't willing to pass him. I told you to pass him."

"Yeah, but you can't see on these roads..."

"You could have."

Zach was certain he had heard the exact exchange a hundred times before. "Smoking or non?" he asked, and hit the key for 'non' before either of them answered.

"Non-smoking, please," Randy said. Most of them wanted non-smoking, and although Zach had to ask anyway he always entered it into the computer preemptively to make it look like things were working faster.

"Actually non-smoking."

"Susan..."

"No, make sure it's actually non-smoking. You remember that Super 8 in Idaho last year?" She turned from her husband to Zach. "It still had an ashtray in it! And when Randy complained, they just came and removed the ashtray."

"It's actually non-smoking," Zach reassured her.

If he were there, Clarence would've added some of the dumb repartee that his son had yet to pick up. They're all non-smoking, unless you mean our smoking-hot discount for AAA members -- you're an AAA member, right? Or he'd say: you know, I asked my doctor if it would be good for my health to quit smoking. Didn't I, Zach?

I don't know, dad.

He said it would be. But I'd have to start first, and wouldn't you know, those darn cancer-sticks are so expensive! And he'd laugh, and Zach would meet the bemused eyes of the guest on the other side of the counter with a look of sympathy.

Not that it did Clarence much good, in the end. The older squirrel had asked Zach a few weeks before if he thought it had anything to do with the hotel. The harsh cleaning products, or the paint fumes, or the asbestos.

I don't know, dad. The doctors didn't know, either, and it didn't matter much. The goal now was treatment. That was why his parents were back in Corvallis.

Their computer had finished loading the list of available rooms. "One night? It's, ah, two-twenty for two queens."

"We have one of those global rewards programs," Susan said.

"We don't," Zach told her. "We're not a chain. Are you Triple-A, maybe? I know you're not AARP." He tried to smile the way his dad did.

Randy forced himself to chuckle. "Getting to feel like it, though. Here, does this work?" He pulled out his wallet, and handed the AAA card over with his Visa.

"Sure thing. That'll take it down to one seventy-five, and if you could fill out this paper here with your license plate and address... it's a legal thing, don't worry. We won't send you any junk mail. Though, if you come back, there's a frequent traveler discount. I can use your address that's on file for that."

"Oh, okay!"

As Zach started filling out the rest of the reservation details on the old computer, he listened to Susan explain how they absolutely would not be returning -- how it would've been so much faster just to take I-5 down from Seattle, and anyway they were going to be late to lunch, and they'd have to call Sam and Patty, and they'd better do that now because you just know how Patty is when the food gets cold...

"Where are you going?" Zach asked, to interrupt the haranguing.

"Klamath Falls." Randy handed the finished paperwork back. "For lunch, and we'll stay the night and do the rest of it the next day. Do you think we can make Redding in one day from Klamath Falls?"

Zach had never been, but he knew the answer by heart anyway. It was strange, the kind of things you picked up -- the kind of things you could say like an authority and nobody would question. "Sure. It's only a hundred and fifty miles. You can pick up I-5 from Medford. But, honestly, it's a really nice drive south through the National Forest."

"Susan's a photographer," Randy pondered aloud. "Good views?"

"Oh, yeah, it's a great view of Shasta. Want some more advice? If you're a photographer, I guess you've already done the Yaquina lighthouse, then, ma'am?" Susan nodded. "Tomorrow's a weekday. They've got the mill running again out in Oak Valley, so 520 can be pretty dicey depending on if you get stuck behind a log truck. What I'd do is leave early and catch Heceta Head. Then you can take 126 from Florence or 38 from Reedsport."

"How early?"

"Continental breakfast is from 6, and it's free, if you want that. That should give you enough time," he told her, and handed the room key across the counter. "You're in 114. It's on the first floor."

"Thanks," Randy said.

"Heceta Head is nice?" Susan asked.

Zach jerked his head back over his shoulder. "That one." The Beachcomb-Inn was decorated with ships in bottles and kitschy watercolor paintings; it was one of the paintings he now indicated. He didn't know who'd even made it, except it was cheap enough for Clarence to have picked up at a yard sale.

"Pretty..."

And it was a nice lighthouse, if you were into that sort of thing. He'd driven down that way with Amanda a few times, and Joan once or twice. Amanda knew the value of snuggling against the cold of a morning out on the coast, and lighthouses were as good of an excuse as any.

Joan was a little too distractible, and too likely to want to escalate beyond simple cuddling. Not that he minded, but Zach's old Triumph didn't offer much privacy. His parents raised the squirrel with enough modesty to care about things like that.

The Border Collie was different. She could be impulsive -- back in high school she'd climbed the radio tower on a dare. And he couldn't always tell when she'd be impulsive: when her tendency to ramble would keep her from making any decision at all, and when she'd abruptly up and decide to fly to Las Vegas despite having never left Oregon before.

It was just part of who she was. As much a part of her as the collie's insistence on eating the Starbursts he let her swipe from the candy rack one color at a time. Or the way she might forget to put on one of her shoes, but remember every single detail of a walk they'd taken on the beach. Or her vise-tight hugs, and the heat of her breath on his face when he told her how cute she was and she laughed so warmly...

He pulled his thoughts back. "Yeah. Pretty. You can try to catch it at sunrise. When the fog is just burning off -- it looks even better than it does in that painting, trust me. Some of the bays are nice in the fog, too. And close. If you're looking for photo opportunities."

"Anything here?"

"The Neatasknea light is historic, but it's not exactly picturesque. The bridge is pretty enough. Oh, and..." He tried to gauge the light out beyond the lobby windows. "Maybe you could go to the boardwalk and see the fishing boats coming in. It's not a bad walk from here, and it's a good way to stretch your legs, if your kids are restless..."

"They always are." Susan's mood seemed to have lifted. "Well, maybe I'll do that. Thanks," she said, like her husband had. With the distraction, they'd even forgotten to complain about the price of the room.

Another happy customer.

Business was good, which should have made Zach happy. They hadn't had to turn the VACANCY sign off, and maybe nobody would've noticed anyway -- but they'd come within a few rooms, once or twice. Tourists were good money.

Almost good enough for decent health care. He checked his phone to see if his parents had said anything: no. So he pulled up Joan's contact details and started a message.

Hey, dear. I am bored out of my skull and I miss you a lot

Select all. Delete.

What would it take to get you to come back early?

Select all. Delete.

Cooled off yet?

Joan didn't need him moping at her. She was good enough at that on her own, and it was her first time out of the state -- her first time more or less on her own. He didn't want to ruin it.

Sort pf but irs even worsr insidr because knside thry run the air conditibig basically al the time and i didn't bring warm clothes bevause somebody tols me my fur wojlf be thick enough now who was that huh zach huh?

It took him less difficulty than might've been expected to parse the message; he'd gotten used to her style. Joan disdained her phone's spellcheck because of its idiosyncratic suggestions, and it was not worth pointing out that, at least, it might not have misspelled "inside" two different ways.

He could picture the Border Collie in his mind, typing quickly with her thumbs, tongue stuck out the side of her muzzle. Rambling and without concern for punctuation in its energy -- that was Joan in a nutshell.

Zach grinned. Sorry :P Enjoying yourself?

Yes its a lot of fun somebody stopped by the table and rhey even know where cannon shoals is so that is one person our of abitu rwo gundred anf wlso rhey only know about ir cause of the riots not our amaaing school district so it could be better but also something ebenwordse oh hold on ill just call you let me find a quirt plaxw

Her typing got worse as she became more excited. Before he could ask for more clarification on where one might find a quirt plaxw in Las Vegas, his phone started buzzing. "Hey, Joan."

"Hi." Joan always sounded soft-spoken and shy over the phone. Whether she became more animated tended to vary by how distracted she got. "How are you, love?"

"Doing fine. How about you?"

He heard her take a deep breath. "Oh, it's good. I've kinda been at the table by myself a bunch, though, on account of Paul's got some meetings and he's doing all this networking, which would be fine except that then these people want to talk to me and I don't even know what to tell them..."

"I bet you do just fine."

"Did you see that picture I sent?"

Not the one with her tongue hanging out. It was a picture of Joan wearing a skirt and a neat, turquoise blouse. At home the collie tended to sport oversized t-shirts salvaged from secondhand stores and tattered jeans that she wore past the point at which they should've been mercy-killed.

Once upon a time he'd thought of it as stylish. He'd even admired her devil-may-care aesthetic, which fit so well with her other quirks. It was only more recently that Zach started to understand it as a defense mechanism, a way of deflecting any attention from herself.

She was rather striking, in the suit, and of course her expression betrayed no admission of this fact. "I did," he told her. "You looked good." She'd also looked a bit lost. But he knew that when someone started talking to her, she'd quickly forget that.

"You just say that 'cause... reasons. Anyway though there was a problem." Her voice became muffled. Although he presumed the collie was alone in her hotel room, she'd softened her voice and put her paw over her muzzle. "Problem is, you aren't here or anything."

Zach's ears splayed, and he had to adjust the earpiece of the phone. "I miss you a lot, Joan. Gotta say that. I really miss you."

"I like this and I'm not sad I went or nothing except that I wish you were here or I was there maybe and like I think Paul has more fun here being on his own but I would be happier if it was in Cannon Shoals or you came with me or something." Depending on her mood, Joan didn't use much punctuation when she was talking, either.

"I'd give a lot to be hugging you right now," he admitted. "But you should enjoy the rest of the conference. Don't gamble too much."

"I won't. I just..."

"Yeah?"

She got even quieter. "I didn't want to go to sleep without saying I love you, okay?"

Damn it. Las Vegas felt so far away. "I love you, too," he said.

"I thought it was a good time to call and say that."

It was, indeed, as though she had read his mind. Maybe she had: their friendship went back years and years, long enough for the two to learn each other's habits long before they'd ever even thought of dating.

Zach thought she had an uncanny habit for showing up just when he needed her most. She told him the same thing: that she knew she could count on him to appear at precisely the right moment. For a phone call, or a cup of coffee, or stealing an hour of privacy at the inn...

It wouldn't do well to dwell on that. But he did daydream, after she'd finally hung up, and kept daydreaming until after his relief showed up and he handed the front desk over to stop work for the evening.

After a quick dinner and a walk outside under skies that were clearly considering a summer rainstorm, he returned to the motel. He didn't feel like talking to anyone who wasn't Joan, and she was asleep, so he let himself in through the back door.

The Leons owned a house in Cannon Shoals and, technically speaking, Zach lived there. But there was a small room furnished with a bed and a bathroom at the Beachcomb-Inn, too, just behind the front desk, and while his parents were gone that was where he chose to stay.

The squirrel told himself that it was a matter of professional discipline: somebody with legal authority over the property needed to be on call in case anything happened, and it was better to be able to get them immediately.

Of course, the house was also very quiet: staying at the inn, the squirrel could always at least hear some noises from the guests, or the maids, or the traffic going by on 101. He didn't have to dwell on all the tangible artifacts of his parents' residence, and certainly not on what might happen if one of them never came back...

The convenience helped, too. His shift officially started at 10AM. He stayed in bed until 9:45, watching the patterns of raindrops trickling down the window. The weather app on his phone said that it would ease in a few hours, and start again in the evening.

It came with an undeniable gloominess, and so as the squirrel got himself dressed he focused on all the practical implications instead. Rain was a mixed blessing: drivers tended to take shelter more quickly, so the inn might fill up faster. They wouldn't want to stay out late, so they'd be quieter.

On the other hand, that meant checking the weather sealing, and cleaning up the mud and grit the guests tracked in. It meant any work outdoors would be unpleasant -- rain in Cannon Shoals always had a surly, spiteful chill to it.

The weather probably meant they'd be ordering delivery food, and Clarence had negotiated a deal with the pizzeria and the Great Wall Kitchen for a cut of any deliveries, so that was nice. Maybe warm food would keep the guests from complaining about the poor quality of the cable television.

Although, despite the squirrel's reputation for optimism, a respite from complaints was unlikely. Not much kept guests from complaining, especially when mother nature spoiled whatever grand plans they'd made for the coast. He slipped his shoes on and opened the door to the front desk.

Allison Navarro had taken the graveyard shift. Zach was happy for that. He liked Allie, from what he knew of her. She was slightly older, old enough that their social circles didn't quite overlap, and she'd returned the previous fall from four years away.

It gave her an interesting perspective, and she was a hard worker -- Clarence's friend Jim Riggs vouched for her when she asked for the job, and so they'd hired her immediately. She seemed to like the Leons, too. "Morning. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?"

"You know it." Zach let himself into the kitchen where they served the continental breakfast, poured a cup of coffee, and padded back to the desk. "You?"

"How could I not be, in this beautiful weather?"

"No kidding. Anything interesting going on?"

The ocelot flipped open the log, stared at it, and closed the book pointedly. "No."

"There's a surprise. Don't suppose there's anybody left?"

"Four rooms, but one of 'em called down and asked if he could check out an hour late. I said 'yes.'"

"Did you charge him for it?"

She shrugged. "If you'd seen this guy..."

"We're not a charity," he teased the feline. "Is that why you left the gas station? Riggs didn't like you giving people a few gallons extra if they looked sad?"

"It was this guy on a motorcycle, though. Obviously he didn't check the weather. He was drenched. It smelled like wet dog in here for, like, an hour -- I figure he's waiting for this to clear out."

"Fine, fine." He slid around behind the counter, and checked the log for himself. Not a bad night, all things considered. Good business. He turned on the radio, which Allison generally kept off, and waited until he could hear music. Early Morning Rain, huh? Appropriate enough. "What about you? You gonna bounce?"

"At least I brought a raincoat. Might stick around a little bit, just in case, if that's okay..."

Zach tried to adopt his father's dry, skeptical expression. "You mean stick around without clocking out, I suppose."

"I'll help clean up the kitchen?"

"Deal." And it wasn't like he minded the company. "What do you need the money for? Finally decide to pick up a chair?" Allison lived in a small, mostly unfurnished apartment. He'd helped her carry some groceries once and found nothing but a bed and a lamp that had clearly been purchased cheaply from Jenny's Jetsam, judging by its driftwood construction.

"Can't afford chairs yet. Right now I'm just sticking to drugs."

"Am I going to have to start testing?"

She flashed a grin at him. "Like you could find anyone clean in this town? Nah, for real, I don't need the money. Although... I was eyeing a guitar. I want to learn to play. And if I don't, maybe Stef would."

That was her old boyfriend -- married, now, if Zach remembered correctly. "He's back to playing?"

"He will be. Eventually. Speaking of old hobbies, how's the fleet?"

Beachcomb-Inn was full of ships in bottles, all of them made either by his father alone or by the two of them working together. Beach driftwood provided most of the raw materials. Beach sand and pebbles served for decoration. It wasn't half bad. "Would you believe I actually got a commission?"

He said it with a note of pride, although, looking back, he could clearly see the trajectory of the pastime. At first it had just been a way of spending time with his dad, who didn't care much for playing catch. Then, when the younger squirrel started to pull away, it had become an imposition -- silly. Pointless. An old hobby, as Allie said.

And now...

Now that Clarence was sick, Zach realized how much he enjoyed the work. He saw how skilled his father genuinely was. He wanted to get better at the craft -- he wanted to be able to do it on his own even as he hoped he'd never have to.

Hence the pride, which Allie picked up on. "Cool, really? A commission?"

"Yep. One of the Coasties wanted a model of the Daggertooth."

"That's the big gunboat in the harbor, right?"

"Coast Guard cutter, but yeah." He opened a drawer behind the counter and pulled out the wood blanks he was slowly sanding down into the shape of the hull. "It doesn't look like much right now, but at least it doesn't have rigging to mess with."

"Rigging?"

"The ropes and stuff. It's a bitch."

Allie nodded. "Good luck with it, huh?"

"I just hope they don't hate it."

"Sure. Wouldn't want that."

Cannon Shoals fancied itself an industrial town, despite its size. Now that Martin-Barlow Western was ramping up work at the machine shops, and running the mill in neighboring Oak Valley, that almost seemed accurate.

While the Oak Valley mill was closed, though, the US Coast Guard station and the cutter Daggertooth had been the town's largest employers. And that, Zach knew, was a bitter pill to swallow for anyone who felt that the government was more adversary than ally.

Zach didn't feel that way: the Beachcomb-Inn depended on tourists, not lumberjacks. Allison was sort of insulated, too. But then, she also worked part-time at one of the town bars, and that was where the antipathy was strongest -- constant, bitter anger at nebulous forces in Washington, DC and Salem conspiring against the good people of Cannon Shoals.

He didn't press the issue, and eventually the ocelot excused herself to get back to work. Everyone but the hapless, late-departing motorcyclist had checked out by the time Allison finished tidying up the kitchen. She signed out on her timecard first, and then asked if he wanted to take a break.

"Well..."

"It's not like we have other things to do," she pointed out.

Music followed them from the lobby, drifting from the weatherproof speakers Zach and Clarence had installed when his father had entertained the notion of encouraging guests to relax and eat outside. That hadn't panned out, and a layer of standing water on the exposed picnic tables made them seem even less inviting, but the music remained.

Judging by "Young Girls are Coming to the Canyon," and the Lightfoot from earlier, it seemed to be a folk-pop kind of week. Slow tunes, for Zach's tastes, but at least they hadn't been subjected to "California Dreaming." Yet.

The rain had ebbed, but it was neither gentle nor warm enough to make walking pleasant. He didn't blame Allison or the motorcyclist for sticking around until it got better. Allie pulled a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of her jacket and fished one out. "Think it'll be a bad fall again?"

"You mean with the rain?"

"Yeah. El Niño or something." She lit the cigarette and took a relaxed drag. "Remember the first week I was back? That storm? Dios mío..."

It had been a bad storm, and a bad winter to follow -- with snow, even, heavier than Zach ever remembered it. "I hope not," he said. Although it was also when he'd started dating Joan, so it wasn't an entirely unpleasant memory.

"Got to thinking. I was joking about the drugs, of course -- hope you believe that. You do, right? But, like... you hear what happened to Vinny-Monny?"

Zach shook his head. "Who's that?"

"Vincent Montgomery. Vince. Kinda short guy, worked at the cannery? Couple years ahead of me in school."

"Before my time, then."

"He's like thirty, Zach. God, you're such a pup. Anyway. I heard he got busted with like a kilo of pills in the glovebox of his car. Oxy and stuff."

Things weren't as bad in Cannon Shoals as they were elsewhere, so far as Zach knew; mostly the town stuck to beer and pot, like good Oregonians. But even at the Inn, they weren't completely insulated from rumors. "Where'd he get them?"

"Scripts. Screwed up his back like three years ago, is what I heard. Guess he had a deal going with, like, every doc between Reedsport and PC. Only one he didn't talk to was Amy -- not that I can blame him for that, you know?"

The pharmacist's expression was deceptively surly -- Amy Riley was a sweetheart, really. At least, she'd been nice to his dad. But the akita was built like a bouncer, and it discouraged anyone from trying dumb things. "Me, either. Drugs, though..."

"Drugs are bad," Allie agreed. "Oh, what? What's that look for? This?" Catching the way Zach was glaring at her, she lifted up the nearly finished cigarette. "Golds aren't even tobacco, really. They're like those candy things. Except you can burn 'em."

"Uh huh."

She stubbed it out. "Yeah? Yeah." Staring at him, the ocelot pulled another free, slipped it into her muzzle, and waited for it to catch -- eyes narrowed and blazing at him over her paws. She took a slow pull, savoring it deliberately, before removing the cigarette and sticking out her tongue. "C'mon, Zach. Better than the pills."

"Maybe."

"Zach!"

"Maybe," he allowed. "Still don't like 'em."

"Stef said that, too. Of course, unlike you, he lets me be a bad influence. You need some of those."

"What about letting you work overtime?" the squirrel protested. Allie thought about it and finally relented, conceding with a shrugging laugh. "That's what I thought. How is Steffan, anyhow?"

"He's doing okay. Trying to keep his sister in one piece. You heard about all that stuff with Lisa, right?"

"I'm kinda disconnected from the gossip. You and Joan are where I hear it from, mostly." And Joan's version was fragmentary and often random. Allison, on the other hand, was irrepressibly social, and folks seemed to like talking to her at the bar where she worked. "What stuff?"

"So, Stef's sister Kayla is married to one of the Crows."

"Wait. Ugh. I've heard about that. I think."

The town had a few old families; most of them got along, but foxes proved to be an exception to that rule. The Crow clan's name evoked the very picture of low-class, blue-collar types. On the other extreme, the Galvans owned Cannon Shoals' credit union and had done so for years. They'd picked up a reputation for putting on airs.

Families like Steffan Kelly's and Lisa Rourke's appeared to be constantly worried about their drift in one direction or the other. Zach Leon belonged to the only family of red squirrels, and was happy not to have to care. Silly town politics didn't impress him.

"So I guess her husband got in trouble with Lisa's kid sister. The rumors are all crazy; whatever. Ignore them."

"You're not doing a good job of sharing gossip."

Allie laughed; when she shrugged, the lit point of her cigarette highlighted the swaying of her paw like a conductor's baton. "Fine, fine. Rumor is, they either got drunk and somebody caught 'em making out, or she seduced him to get back at her sister. She's in high school, by the way. Kayla's husband's... in his thirties? Before your time, I know."

"Yeesh. Skeevy."

"Crows, right? It's worse than that, though. He just fucked off. Left a dumb note, took the car, and disappeared. Stef said Kayla's beyond pissed. He said he never understood what Kayla saw in him, anyway."

"He does sound like a catch." Not that he knew for certain. Not that he knew any of them, really. It was a different world. Is that how you can tell whether you belong here? You start to care about everyone else's dirty laundry?

"Yeah, well. I mean. I don't know what Stef sees in his girl, so... hey, right?" Her tone had changed, darkening at the end.

As far as Zach was aware, Allie and Stef were merely friends. It wasn't something he planned on prying into. Whatever drew Allison back to Cannon Shoals, the ocelot was there now and that was good enough for his purposes. "Yeah," he said, as noncommittally as possible.

Allie fidgeted with her cigarette, and half-turned to look in the direction of the highway. There wasn't much to see; certainly not enough to have held her interest the way it seemed to. But she stared, and smoked the cigarette down to the filter, lighting a third as the speakers rambled quietly on.

There was too much acoustic guitar for random chance. He realized it must've been playing off his dad's CD changer, rather than the radio. Sometimes I think it's a shame, when I get feelin' better when I'm feelin' no pain...

Allie spoke with no warning. "But you know, like... what am I going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know about fucking off. I left for four years, right? I can see the appeal."

"Yeah?" The radio wasn't helping anyone. Sometimes I think it's a sin, when I feel like I'm winnin' when I'm losin' again. He tried to lighten the mood. "I would miss having somebody else around, if you left again."

"I don't want to leave again. This town is home, Zach. I love this place. And the people. Most of 'em. Some more than others. So what do you do when that's the problem? You know?"

"You still have feelings for him."

Her eyes went back to the highway, like she was trying to pretend it was worth looking at. "He still has feelings for me."

"You think it's right, though?"

"I didn't say it was right. I don't think it is. So what am I going to do? It's a small town, Zach."

"Why are you asking me for advice? I'm just..." He shrugged weakly.

"Smart guy. Trustworthy. Like your dad -- I might've asked him, too, but it's a bit personal. You're good for advice, Zach."

How? Where did that come from? Why do I look like I'd know anything? But it was that or the radio, so he knew he had to answer. "Maybe the guitar isn't a good idea."

"Maybe. But I want there to be something. With Stef, I mean. I want there to be something that isn't just getting shitfaced and pretending high school was amazing and worth all the bullshit nostalgia."

He nodded. "Listening to you talk, and all, I have to guess there is something. I guess it just seems to me, like... he's married, and..."

"And?"

The quick, blunt answer caught him by surprise. "Uh? What do you mean, 'and'?"

"I mean you don't have to tell me. My mom and my dad split up, you know? And then my dad hooked up with that Nevada bitch and tossed me out of the house. Remember?"

"You told me, yeah."

"My parents weren't any better for each other when they had a marriage license, and Nevada bitch didn't get any better for dad when she got a ring on her Nevada bitch finger. So?"

Zach took a deep breath and considered his words. "I got the impression that it was a little different with Stef and his wife."

"He'd say so. Except I know he wants to start something. So which one's right, you know? If it ain't right, it's because we're not a good couple either. I think. Or..."

Allison stopped, and went back to watching the cars. The ocelot's tail swayed and jerked, lashing back and forth with more and more agitation at every passing second. This time when her cigarette burned down, she tossed it into the trash and jammed the rest of the pack sharply into her jacket.

"I know it's selfish. Don't tell me that, I know it. But, just... don't think it's right for him to be unhappy just 'cause someone can say 'oh, yeah, but you signed a contract.' Boils down to that."

"Yeah?"

"My roomie in Cheyenne had this telemarketing gig, selling car insurance. Her boss was a huge asshole. Finally she quit, and he told her 'you can't quit, you need to give two weeks' notice.' 'Cause it was in her contract. Who the heck signs a contract to be miserable?"

"Did she give notice?"

Allie held up one paw with a soft chuckle, extending her middle finger. "Yeah, this notice. She just walked out. She was a coyote, though; they're kinda weird like that. But she was the reason I came back."

"I hope it wasn't after she flipped you off."

She shook her head gently. "No. We weren't good together, either, but... not that bad. She told me the reason she didn't wait two weeks is 'cause she knew she'd be just as pissed off two weeks later. Like... you don't get those two weeks back, you know, Zach? If they're gonna suck, why make yourself do it?"

It wasn't his place to judge. He didn't know the Kellys. He didn't know about Allie and Stef's relationship. And he knew what she meant: wanting to claw something back from a world that seemed hell-bent on giving them so little.

Allison had been out in the world: Cheyenne, for one, but if he remembered right the ocelot had a degree from a school in Sacramento. She'd worked there for a time, too. Big cities, and big opportunities -- but something about it had brought her back. Something made the Shoals her home.

She thanked him for his advice, even though he still wasn't sure he'd really given her any, and walked off into the rain a few minutes later. Zach watched her go, waiting until she was out of sight to head back inside.

Complicated, I guess? Everybody has their own problems. You can pack a lot of problems into a small town like this one, can't you? Even if he did consider himself to be insulated from most of them.

He thought about leaving, and he envied Allison for her ability to do so even if she dismissed it as 'fucking off.' If it wasn't worth as much as her hometown friends, and her high school lover... did he have it all wrong? Who knew?

Either way it was strange to think of himself as levelheaded, or anything like a voice of reason. He wasn't far out of high school, himself -- and committing to a life of running a motel. Zach found it hard to imagine that it was his fate to grow up like Ian Stachs or Jim Riggs or Leo Mazzi down at Linc's, the old-timers who could always be counted on for an ear and some advice.

Fortunately the sound of the door chiming intervened before his thoughts could wander too far. He glanced up to see who it might've been: it was fairly early for travelers to be looking for a bed.

The two people who'd entered were regulars: Tim and Alice, a raccoon and a doe who both worked for a railroad company. Before Zach's time, finished lumber left Cannon Shoals by rail. That depot had been closed for twenty years. The lumber mill was closed, too.

But with Martin-Barlow reinvesting in the town, rumors had been spreading that the railroad might return. The two guests were ample evidence of that commitment. He didn't know what they did, except that it involved some practical details of the reopening -- contracts or certification or something -- but they stayed at Beachcomb-Inn so often that he could manage most of their checkin from memory.

They felt the same familiarity. "Zach Leon, my main man! How's the desk, boss?" Tim grinned; he meant it kindly. He'd said something about how the plaque with Zach's name on it made the squirrel seem like a CEO.

"Pretty good. Not getting wet. You're here for two nights again?"

"Leaving Friday. As usual," the doe answered for him. "Just in time for the weather to improve. You must see a lot of business on weekends, right? People come down to visit."

"Sometimes, yeah. More often they stay in the bigger towns."

Alice clucked her tongue. "I just don't get that... seems like there'd be plenty to do here. And friendlier people, too!"

Cannon Shoals even had a tourism board, staffed by volunteers whose primary output was overpromising and poorly edited brochures waxing poetic about the town's charms. It didn't work well. "Depends on what you like doing, I guess."

"Beachcombing, though, right?"

"The pun was my granddad's idea," Zach said. "Back in the '60s, the quickest way to the beach was from just behind here. The road didn't go to the boardwalk then."

"Do you find anything cool?"

"Beachcombing? It depends, I guess. You can find some nice agate. Driftwood, of course -- that's what my dad and I make all the models out of."

Alice perked her round, inquisitive ears. "Aw! That's so cute!"

The excitement in her tone kept it from sounding as patronizing as he might have taken it, otherwise. "I guess so. Uh, so, almost done here -- I don't see your car out front... silver sedan, right?"

"It's still parked at the office," the doe explained. "We walked over rather than driving a few blocks. You don't think we mind a little rain, do you?"

"Well, I don't, but I live here, so I can't expect you to."

"I'm from Stayton," the woman said. "And Tim, you're from... Seattle, right?"

"Seattle," Tim confirmed. "We're used to it, too."

Alice smiled, her attention drifting from Zach to the hotel lobby itself, taking in the models he'd mentioned. "But I'm starting to feel like I live here. Seems like we've spent half the summer on temporary assignment."

They definitely qualified for the frequent-traveler discount; he didn't even bother asking for the paperwork. Instead he just made small-talk, while he finished typing. "Well, if you feel like moving..."

The doe kept smiling. "Oh, you joke about that -- but I wouldn't turn it down. It's a real nice town. I'd settle here if I thought the company would invest in it. Of course, it'd be a struggle getting my husband to agree."

Zach decided to be diplomatic. "It has a certain charm."

"It's wonderful, is what you mean. On the last survey, I saw this adorable cottage for sale on Lily Street -- I almost asked how much, but the last thing I need is more temptation! These days, Portland is so played out."

"Played out?"

"Lost a lot of its charm."

Tim stepped in. "Alice is one of those small-town people. She likes it when everyone knows your name."

Since Alice seemed to agree, Zach didn't bother pointing out that Stayton was four times bigger than Cannon Shoals, and a fifteen-minute drive from the state capitol. "I guess, yeah."

"Me? Give me a Whole Foods and good broadband any day of the week." The raccoon shook his head. "And decent restaurants. Not that it's bad, here, but you get awfully tired of Your Oyster. Alice and I ate at... uh, La something? Cucaracha?"

"Cochinillo. Cucaracha means 'cockroach,'" Zach told him. His family was Spanish, not Mexican, but it didn't take Mexican extraction to take offense at the grievous insult Cochinillo subjected that culture to. "They have passed inspection, though."

"By the Geneva Convention, maybe. Not by anyone interested in tamales." Tim made a face that left little of the experience to anyone's imagination. And then, sensing that he might have gone too far, he forced it away. "But that's just me. Can't help being a city boy."

"You just don't know what you're missing out on," his coworker chided. She stepped over to the side, and the rack of various sundries the hotel sold. "Cute postcards, too. Do you know who took these?"

She put one down on the counter, and Zach looked up from finishing work on the computer to check. The postcard showed a fisherman leaning over the side of his boat, tossing a big tuna to someone waiting at the dock.

Staged, it has to be. Who is that in the picture? Looks like Carl, but he doesn't even fish for tuna. There were still tuna boats at Cannon Shoals, but nobody who worked them had the time to pose for pictures. Or if they did, it was only because they weren't catching tuna. Of course, even drifting at the dock the boats were picturesque, if you could ignore the rust.

"Dawn, I think," Zach said. "Dawn Danis."

"Artist?"

He nodded in answer to the doe's question. "She has a studio here. Sells stuff on the weekends, if you're interested. And I have your keys ready..."

"The postcard, too!" Alice tapped it enthusiastically. "It really is beautiful. Such a nice little place. It's so great to be able to get away..."

Zach let her have the postcard for free. When the two had gone up to their rooms, he pulled another card from the rack and flipped it over to check the date. 2008. Like I thought. Might as well be ancient history.

The two businessmen shared a lot of enthusiasm for the town's redevelopment. They both liked to talk excitedly about the railroad. At the same time, he had to imagine that they wouldn't find the timber harvesting or the canneries nearly so quaint. Cannon Shoals was almost fictional to them -- like Colonial Williamsburg, perhaps. Or Hobbiton.

Others felt that way, too. Zach's grandfather immigrated to Cannon Shoals to start the Beachcomb-Inn, way back in the '50s. Joan's uncle Gene Morgan came twenty years later, looking for work at the mill. His ex-girlfriend's family arrived in the '80s to open a store for the fishermen.

Now, though the motel had seen better days and the fishing fleet was all but sunk, newcomers still drifted in. But they were looking for cheap property, or for a place to retire. Their need for escape brought them to mix with the sort of people who never could.

Paul Fisher was one of them -- he and his girlfriend both came from California, originally. Paul had been on the ground floor of some technology company or another, and wouldn't have to work again if he didn't want to. He liked Cannon Shoals, Joan said, because he despised the fast-paced, cut-throat capitalism of Silicon Valley.

He either didn't know, or didn't care, that it wasn't like Cannon Shoals people were nicer. They weren't more neighborly, or more generous. They just didn't have anything to sell. And they knew that, and resented him for not knowing it, too.

And he's one of the better ones. Paul at least owned a shop on State Street, and spent his money in town. His girlfriend worked at the radio station. They tried to integrate. They had friends. But Zach still got the odd feeling, when he talked to Paul, that the wolf was the resident of some strange parallel universe to his own.

He sent Joan a hopeful text message; she replied an hour later, saying she'd been busy working and apologizing in her breathless way. It made him smile, at least. Something to dwell on beyond the drizzle, and the tedious work on the model of the USCG Daggertooth.

Zach wondered what it might be like to have more important matters to contend with, weighty things like the railroad employees did. If only they'd known that the biggest issue facing Cannon Shoals was whether or not Allie Navarro needed to stay away from Stef Kelly.

Or if Stef needed to grow a pair and get his band back together.

Or if the Leons were closing the Beachcomb-Inn now that Clarence was sick.

Or if Kayla should've dumped her husband before he up and ran off, and wasn't that a scandal?

Or if the bank was finally going to get around to repossessing Marco Shobe's boat. Or if the fire that burned down the Mayfield house was an accident or not, because hadn't you heard...

The squirrel shook his head. Here I'm ragging on those two for thinking this place is so nice without knowing anything about it, but it isn't like I care that much. Do I? When the night clerk showed up, Zach headed back to his room without having much of an answer.

His mother called while he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He knew her from the ringtone. And he answered it listlessly, turned on the speakerphone, and closed his eyes to listen.

Decode, was more like it. His mom pretended to talk about the motel -- whether he'd checked up on the cleaners, and if he'd made sure the water was off, and Clarence's bloodwork was good but they wanted to keep him on the drugs, and was it raining out there, too, and had he cleaned the gutters?

"When do you think you'll be able to come home?"

"Two days, Zach. Did you remember to put in an order to restock the candy? Last time they were getting a bit low, and I checked in the back and there was only one box of the plain ones left. Your dad's sleeping, or I'd ask if there was anything else... he is in a good mood, though. I think you need more of those little batteries, too; they use them for the cameras."

"I called in the order already," Zach said. "Take care of him, alright, mom?"

He would've asked to speak to his dad, of course. But Clarence tried to preserve the same kind of normalcy. He never talked about medication or treatment, or what the hospital was like, or how he was feeling. And Zach didn't know how to ask.

Even talking about the model, though... talking about how he'd told the Coastie he needed photos to make it accurate, and she'd come back with a scaled down copy of the blueprints. And how he was planning on carving the hull to make it fit nicely into the bottle. Asking him for pointers...

The phone rang again, later, when his mood had sunk almost to the point of ignoring it. Fortunately he managed -- and this time he kept it off speaker, sitting up to get comfortable for the voice that came through the line. "Hey, Zach."

"Hi, puppy. How are you?"

"Good... we had some, um... some cocktail party to go to and I didn't want to exactly but Paul said it would be a good experience, you know? If you have a few drinks, it kinda is, sorta. Paul's still there, but I had to leave 'cause my feet were hurting. It wasn't in our hotel, but I walked back anyway. In pumps. Don't tell mom, okay?"

He and Valerie, her mother, weren't really on speaking terms so it was beside the point. "Sure. Was it the kind of party where the drinks are free?"

"You and your dad," she said, and he heard her giggle. "I told him you were good with money once and you know what he said? He said that when you wanted to play catch, he taught you by making you catch pennies, on account of you needed to learn how to get them more than a ball."

It wasn't true, but it sounded like a Clarence sort of joke to have made anyway. "He was right, though."

"Maybe. They were free, yep. I ordered a gin and tonic and they asked me what kind of tonic water to use even, but I can't remember what kind they said was best -- um -- oh, and I met a guy who said I had made a quite civilized choice, little does he know, and he and Paul hit it off. Paul says I need business cards, only I don't know why. I'd ask him 'cept he's still at the party, I think I said that -- did I say that?"

He would've let her keep talking, just to hear the sound of her voice. "Yeah."

"Oh, okay. Also, I talked to a woman from Spain, like you. I said hola, como esta but then I forgot what comes next. How's my pronunciation?"

Joan sounded Mexican by way of La Cochinillo. "We can practice when you're back."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, Zach. I told her I had a Spanish boyfriend, and she agreed that I was extremely lucky. Then she wanted to know if I had been to Zaragoza and I said I hadn't and she asked where you were from and I forgot so I just said Barcelona but I guess that's in a different country according to her if I understood right, so then I felt a bit silly, and that was kinda when I left, anyway."

God, what he wouldn't have given to be next to her! As it was, he could imagine the gestures and expressions she'd be accompanying the story with well enough. But it wasn't nearly the same as actually being with her. "It depends on who you ask. Catalunya is officially part of Spain, though. And you were pretty close. My granddad was from Valencia. I probably told you Barcelona to keep it simple or something, a long time back. Sorry."

"As long as I was close. How was your day?"

"Fine. But it didn't have enough dog in it."

She let out another giggle, and then a sigh. "I know. When I get back, I'm going to hug the fuck out of you, Zach. I hope you know that."

"Counting on it."

"Any guests from hell?"

"Nah. The Railroad Duo is back. The girl said she wanted to get a more permanent place, what with all the time they've had to spend in town anyway. They both seem to think it's a done deal to start service, which ought to be good news for us."

"Nice! Do you think they're going to get a place first, or do you think they're gonna start asking for only one room first, 'cause you know, I bet they do want to save money for their company, and anyway you can't always guarantee they get a room next to one another, can you?"

Joan, for the Border Collie's own reasons, was convinced that the two were an item. "I've done okay for them so far. And I have to say, I'm pretty sure they're innocent. She was going on about how nice and quaint the Shoals is."

"Is it?"

"Well, she doesn't know the truth. I still have yet to see signs of a torrid affair. Not everyone here is bent."

"Just most of them, yeah?"

"The fun ones, for sure."

The Border Collie's pause lingered until it had become slightly dramatic. "Hm. Zach, I have to say... speakin' of... I kinda lied to you a bit."

"What about?"

"I said I was gonna hug the fuck out of you, but that isn't true. I'm gonna save at least one."

He grinned, and rolled over on the bed to get more comfortable. "Oh?"

"Uh huh. Except I don't think I'll save it very long... I... I might not even save it until we're back at your place."

"Yeah? You want to just go at it on one of the lobby couches, Joan?"

He heard rustling over the phone line as she shifted around, too. As before he could picture it perfectly: she'd be curled up on her bed, as if shielding the phone, whispering the details of a sordid conspiracy. "Well, obviously we can't use the front desk. But what about the table with all the tourist brochures on it? That looks sturdy. And even if we bent a few of the brochures it isn't like it matters 'cause nobody reads those things so what would they care?"

"It's also right out in public..."

"Close the blinds?" she teased. "I'll, uh... ooh, I know. I'm gonna wait all patient-like with you behind the counter. Like I'm helping, 'cept the longer you make me wait the harder it's going to be for me to not just give you a little squeeze or two. Or, uh... three."

Zach swallowed heavily. It was the sort of threat she'd follow through on. "That isn't going to make checking the guests in go any faster."

"You'd find a way. You'd be real cute, trying to get their license place and all, and here I'd be unzipping those jeans, slowly so they can't hear anything. And I could just take my time 'til you got nice and hard for me..."

Her voice was still quiet, soft-spoken and reserved despite the subject -- only a hint of breathiness disturbed it. It was good enough. He was hard already, and the dog was on the far side of another state. "I, uh... I'd... I'd get rid of them as soon as I could, don't worry."

"Mmhm. And when they're gone, I'll sit down on that table, okay? I'll be wearing this skirt I got, and I'll pull it up so's you can see I don't have anything on under it. You really think you'd be worried about what other people think? Come on, Zach... what do say?"

"When does your flight get in?"

He almost melted at her light, breathy, playful laugh. "Day after tomorrow. 'Cause the conference is still going on and stuff, and Paul wants to have a few more meetings. You think you can wait?"

"No," he told her.

Joan sighed. "Me either. But it'll be Thursday before you know it."

Easier said than done. Her voice lingered in her ears long after she hung up. Even after he got himself off, eyes closed, picturing the dog -- and the little sounds she made, and how her tail started to twitch when she was about to come.

Because when he opened his eyes again, he was alone. There was no Joan to snuggle up to, and he felt the absence of her tongue grooming his nose and her paws on his brushy tail the way she did when they were cuddled together afterwards.

That was the hardest part to wait for. And in the interim, the hardest part to endure was hoping Joan was having a good time, rather than missing him. He didn't want her to be pining, not when she needed a break from the town even more than he did.

Zach spent the next morning taking care of errands. The Beachcomb-Inn always needed maintenance, and supplies to be picked up, and receipts to be dropped off at the bank. It took his mind off anything else that might have intervened.

And it kept him from feeling that the time was wasted. The realization made him think of Allie's roommate: nothing you did would get you more time on Earth; knowing you were going to be miserable was a hell of a way to spend what you had.

Five hours into the evening shift, though, he was starting to change his mind. Joan had gone silent, Allison was working at the bar; the travelers that arrived intermittently were irritated at the continued light rain. Zach forced himself to concentrate on sanding the wood of his model ship.

It'll look good, in the end. You know it. Just keep going.

Keep going. A life of little ships in bottles. The clock ticked over to midnight -- one more day. And now there were headlights, sweeping into the motel's driveway. He set the model down, put on a smile, and waited for the driver to park the car and make his way inside.

"Welcome -- oh!" His eyes widened in shock. "Hey, Paul!"

Even if he didn't know Paul very well, he recognized the skinny wolf and his unfailingly cheery Californian demeanor, which was on full display when he waved at the squirrel. "Hello, Zach."

"You're back?"

"Yep. Joan asked to be dropped off here. She's... getting her bag, I think. Or maybe she's just getting wet. She might've missed it, with all the desert and so forth..."

Zach nodded, trying to contain his excitement. "Maybe. How was the conference?"

"Pretty good! I'm coming to the conclusion very quickly that some of the big companies in that market just don't know the kind of opportunities they have. We could really transform the whole augmented-educational landscape. Of course it --"

The wolf was interrupted briefly by the hiss of the sliding door, and then more firmly by a barked "Hi! I'm back!" from the Border Collie elbowing her way through before it could even finish opening.

Joan was still recovering from a bad leg. Her speed transformed the limp into an awkward hop, but it gave Zach enough time to round the counter and catch the dog up in a hug. "I wasn't expecting you." He kissed her, quickly -- mindful of Paul's presence. "Not that it's a problem."

Rather more unconcerned, she squeezed him tightly. "My fault. I got confused about the flights on account of I flipped the date around and then I almost forgot to check in and I was going to call but I thought maybe you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you up! Um... 'cause also, I did think Las Vegas was in the mountain time zone. But it turns out it's not! Pacific, even though it isn't anywhere near the Pacific. So..."

Paul grinned. "She is like this on the booth, in case you were wondering."

The Border Collie relaxed her hold on him only long enough to shoot Paul a glare over her shoulder. "Oh, now hush!"

"I can imagine," Zach told the wolf.

Joan spun back around, and he leaned forward to catch her muzzle, giving the collie girl a deep, fierce kiss. Her ears flattened, and when he pulled back a second later she huffed: "Lucky you're cute, Zach."

"I'm going to leave you two," Paul said. "Thanks for the help, Joan."

The dog tried to wave, but wasn't completely able to disentangle herself in time. She settled for going back to hugging her boyfriend. "You sure you're not mad I didn't call?"

Zach could only laugh. "No. It was a nice surprise. How'd you like Vegas?"

"Too hot. And... weird. I don't know what I was expecting it to be like, for a big city and all, but..."

"You'd go again, though, right?" It had taken the better part of six months to get her to even consider leaving Cannon Shoals -- her mother could always be counted on to fill Joan with dire warnings about the consequences of that. It was good to see her escape, if only for a few days.

"I think so." She kissed his nose. "Maybe if I had better company, 'cept I know you can't get away so much yourself and I don't want to make you feel guilty or nothing, so I guess it depends. How were things here?"

"Okay. Boring."

"Yeah?" Joan sidled up closer. "Boring night, too?"

"It was."

She nodded quickly. "How long do you have to be here for?"

"Few more hours. I guess you're probably tired, though, huh? You can sleep in the spare room, if you want."

"That was not what I was thinking," Joan said, and poked his nose. "And you know it! I'm not that tired. I mean... I sort of am. I didn't sleep on the plane. The guy on the window seat did, but then he kind of fell onto me, like I was his pillow or something, and I mean of course he didn't mean nothing but -- hey. Hey."

"What?"

"I see you grinning, Zach. Don't think I'm getting distracted!"

"You are."

She narrowed her eyes, and the next thing he felt was a tight, sharp squeeze on his rear. Claws had become involved: "I'm not," the dog insisted. "Now, about that table!"

Still grinning, he ignored the claws and gave her a quick peck. "You're not wearing the skirt, though, are you? If you can't keep up your end of the bargain..."

"Oh. Shit." She let go of him. "Damnit! I knew I forgot something."

Zach stuck out his tongue and made his way back around the counter, carrying her duffel bag for her and setting it aside. "Got distracted," he teased her. "I'm on the clock anyway, though. Couple hours. You can nap."

Instead, she followed him, grunting and mumbling under her breath. "You think you're going to make me wait?"

"Yes."

Those hard brown eyes narrowed again. "I don't agree."

"On the clock, Joan," he reminded her.

She leaned on her side against the counter. "I know," she told the squirrel. And slowly, idly -- like she was doing nothing at all -- she put her paw on his crotch. "And you have a job to do."

"I do."

Joan squeezed him again. This time there were no claws. This time it was slow. Warm. Her expression was a serious deadpan that betrayed none of this. "It's very important."

The counter didn't have a whole lot of room to maneuver, even if he'd actually wanted to. Zach shifted a few inches to the right, and Joan lazily followed. Her fingers circled the edge of a growing heft in his pants. "It... it is..."

The pressure relaxed as she popped free the button that held his jeans closed. Just like she'd promised, the collie unzipped them slowly, with not a sound save for her boyfriend's quiet gasp. "Glad you agree. Now step back a bit. That's also important."

"You're a bad influence," he muttered -- but obeyed.

Joan's deadpan broke, and she gave him a lopsided smile. "No."

She took advantage of the free space to settle onto her knees, with only a bit of awkward shifting occasioned by her bad leg. Now she was mostly hidden in the darkness below the counter, with its tangle of wires for the computer that her tail wagged against threateningly.

Zach looked ahead stoically as he felt her pulling off his briefs, and the soothing heat of her breath on his crotch. Her voice floated up to him sweetly. "No, I'm not. I let you pretend to be all responsible and... stuff."

Stuff. Smooth heat worked slowly up the base of the squirrel's length. He sucked in his breath and grasped the counter with both paws, trying not to make any noise. Unsatisfied with his continued resistance, she lapped him again -- then a third time. Her tongue dragged over his tip until it finally tugged a groan from him.

"Better," he heard her say, lilting. "Keep working, hon. Check those logs or..." She stopped, and the next thing he felt was a warm, wet pressure surrounding him, suckling on him as she started to pull back. When he popped free she finished, warming his saliva-slick shaft with her whisper. "You know. Whatever..."

"Joan," he gasped, hazarding a look to find her bright eyes cast upward to meet him. She nudged forward, and as he watched his stiff cock slowly disappearing into her muzzle, and the heat of her mouth overcame him, she winked. He gave up on protesting. "God, that's so good..."

He didn't know how much of it was skill and how much was natural canine talent. His previous girlfriend was a tigress; her tongue had made experimenting hazardous. Joan did not have this problem. And, depending on her mood, she could be quite enthusiastic.

Eager, even. The pace of her muzzle picked up quickly. Fast enough that, as a rising pleasure built in the squirrel's body he gave up on trying to swallow his moans and gasps. Her slurping was loud enough... and had anyone been looking, Zach felt certain his expression was a dead giveaway.

Feeling him start to tense and tremble, Joan let him go -- for a moment. "If you keep bein' stubborn, Zach, I will bad-influence you all the way until you come. 'Cept I bet you could probably see reason..."

"Maybe," he said.

"Take a step to the left, babe." He did, his movement as unsteady as his voice, and Joan rewarded him with a soft kiss. "Lean over to the concession stand..."

If he stretched out, without leaving the shelter of the front desk that kept anyone from seeing him below the waist, he could just barely reach. "Yeah?"

Behind him, he heard his girlfriend slowly getting back to her feet. "Condom. See? Good influence."

He looked at her over his shoulder, arching a skeptical eyebrow. But she could've said anything: he hooked a box of condoms, glanced quickly at the expiration date, and settled back on his feet. "Right."

"Open." She watched him with a piercing, insistent gaze, though he couldn't help noticing that her paws were busily undoing her own jeans.

Zach slid his claw under the box flap, pulling it open and tapping a packet free. Tearing the foil took a little more effort -- he scowled in his frustration, and Joan paused with one leg half out of her pants to grin at him.

"Calm down, calm down."

"Now you're telling me to wait?"

"Yeah." She kicked her jeans off. "Hold up."

By that point, he had the condom halfway on, and finished unrolling it before answering. "What?"

She looked around the desk, and grabbed hastily for a notepad. "Write an IOU. Good influence," the dog added when he scowled again. "C'mon."

Zach scrawled it hastily, looking at Joan from the corner of his eye. It was, he decided, buying time on her part -- her leg had gone stiff, and she needed a bit of effort to get her panties off. "You okay, hon?"

Caught, she grunted and flicked her ears back. "Will be. Finished writing?"

"Yeah."

Like many such desks, the counter stood at chest height or so -- comfortable enough to write on when standing. A sturdy shelf ran beneath it, lower, and making use of this instead of the table had plainly been Joan's intent by the way she surveyed it. With her leg acting up, though, she faltered.

He leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Sure you're okay?"

The responsible, good-influence option involved waiting, and they both knew it. But Zach wasn't surprised when, instead, she shot him a fierce, telling look. With her good leg, she nudged a box of paperwork close enough to stand on it and turned around, bending slightly over the counter with her rump to him.

"If we get caught..."

"Done being a good influence, Zach," she growled. And she reached over, flipping the switch that killed power to the neon vacancy sign out front. Not a good influence, no...

Peering at the dog's hiked, feathery tail, with her black and white pelt framing soft and glistening pink, he was done listening to good influence, too. The squirrel stepped up behind her, grinding firmly into her rear.

Joan shuddered at the way his shaft slid between her thick-furred cheeks. She shifted, adjusting her angle -- he pressed forward again and the two let out a matched gasp as he pushed smoothly inside her. He followed the first, careful stroke with a second that finished the job, sinking his long, thin squirrel cock in up to the hilt. And she whined his name happily as she took him.

Zach rocked his hips slowly, trying to keep his tempo even and smooth. A week of abstinence wasn't helping. Neither was her earlier attention. Nor the collie's muted whimper, and the way she pushed back eagerly to meet his thrusts. He tried to think of anything to distract him from the warmth and soft wetness of his girlfriend's folds.

And failed.

Any sense of propriety was gone. Nothing mattered now but the reunion of the two lovers. Joan's whimpers stretched out into grateful, long moans. He should've stopped her; reminded her of the need to be quiet. But he let the sound fill his ears and coax his pace faster, watching her trembling muzzle part further and further, her tongue lolling.

She had enough free space to force her paw between her thighs; he felt her silky-furred fingers brushing either side of his cock, gliding over the hard, smooth flesh as his thrusts drove him swiftly into her. The collie started to tease herself, fingers working in the urgency he'd come to recognize well.

He slipped his arms around her slim belly and leaned against her back, letting his weight settle on her. Trapped against him, her tail wagged and thumped in counterpoint to their rhythm, urging the squirrel on as he bucked and groaned behind her.

A spasm flickered through her. Her fingers rubbed faster, and her ears went all the way back. Zach heard his name in a shaky, bubbling canine growl -- low, and pleading. She drew her tongue back into her muzzle just as her teeth gritted. "Zach -- so close, Zach, don't stop..."

Nothing could've stopped him. All he could do was hold on to her, clinging to her hips. Pounding into her, burying himself in fast strokes -- and then Joan was twitching and shuddering in his grasp -- she was yelping, toes curling, tearing the cardboard box she stood on with her claws.

He lost control in the last few seconds of his fevered rutting, feeling nothing but the giddy mix of rising pleasure and need and the warmth of the dog's folds quivering and grasping at him. A panting handful of deep, shaky thrusts and he locked up, flush against her squirming hips, his throbbing cock spilling rope after rope of hot seed into the latex barrier that separated them.

It took most of his remaining faculties, but he found the energy to put a paw out and against the counter, holding himself up so Joan could breathe a little more easily. Bit by bit she got her panting under control. "Zach... oh, gosh, I've been looking forward to that..."

He hugged her as best he could with his other arm. "Me too. Thought I'd have to wait, and... well..."

"Think we were subtle enough?"

"Guess they won't mind." He reached out and flipped the 'VACANCY' sign back on. Just in case.

"Could've been worse. You could've tied me. That woulda been a mess."

Zach managed to laugh, and when he was sure enough of his footing he pulled free of the dog. She slid from the box on legs that were just as shaky, and while her boyfriend dispensed with the condom she set about getting dressed.

Her jeans were halfway back up, and he decided that for modesty's sake that was good enough -- he drew the collie to him in a warm hug, and dipped his muzzle down to hers for a long, tender kiss.

"I missed you," he told her, at last. "Didn't think you were serious..."

"We didn't use the table," Joan pointed out. Her serious look lasted only a few heartbeats; then she embraced him again. "You don't really think I'm a bad influence, do you?"

"Only when it counts."

The Border Collie giggled, and licked at his nose. "We are all bent here, isn't that what you said? So much different from Las Vegas!"

"Really..."

"Well..." She trailed off, smiling with the absurdity of the suggestion. "Better than that. And smaller. City was kinda eye opening, you know. All those bright lights and stuff, but... you seen pictures, yeah? They have a little Paris and stuff, and like... a Statue of Liberty, 'cept it's smaller. The whole world, kinda. Except..."

"Except?"

"Except the world's really big, Zach. And that means the best of it..." She trailed off, and sank forward, leaning against the squirrel and turning her head to rest it on his chest. "Best part of it is havin' someone to come back to."