Chapter 1

Chapter One

NOLAN

T he radio screeches in the background as I bang on the side of the computer. “Fucking storm.”

“I thought you of all people would be happy about the weather,” Jefferson says before grabbing his coat off the rack. He’s the manager of this location and has worked for me for over ten years. “Shouldn’t the owner of the biggest plowing company in the state be excited that a snowstorm is coming?”

A gust of wind and snow slaps against the window like it’s taunting me. “I’d be happier if I knew how to use this damn thing.” The computer flashes again, and he shakes his head.

“The power is flickering. If you keep hitting it like that, you’ll break it, and Aunt Sue will be pissed.” He tugs on his winter hat and then searches for his gloves.

“Good. It will give her something to bitch about. You know that’s her favorite thing.” My great aunt wouldn’t know what to do with herself if she didn’t get to complain. It’s too bad she’s great at using these stupid things or I’d fire her.

I was never good with this kind of stuff. Sure, I can take apart an engine and put it back together blindfolded, but sending an email with an attachment isn’t something I care to learn how to do. I’m aware that I’m stuck in my ways, but I built this company from the ground up and made it a success without ever learning how to create a spreadsheet.

Jefferson snorts a laugh before he grabs his keys. “You sure you’re okay here alone?” I glare at him out of the corner of my eye, and he holds his hands up. “Okay, okay, just checking. I’ve got everyone running the trucks until sunrise. It looks like the storm is going to break then.” He zips up his coat and clips the walkie-talkie to his belt. “All incoming calls will be routed to us so we can get to them faster.”

“Good man,” I tell him. “I’m about to head out myself. I was going to try and find the number for that contractor that called today, but Aunt Sue has decided to put all my messages online now.” I roll my eyes but don’t miss Jefferson’s snicker before he waves goodbye.

“Be careful!” I call out after him, and then the heavy door slams shut.

Some of the snow from the storm blows in, and the cold air cuts through the room. It’s always bad this time of year, but this storm seems like it came out of nowhere. I was at another one of my stores earlier today, but when I heard the bad weather was headed this way, I came home. It’s not like I’ve got anyone or anything to come home to, but I like being where the crews are working just in case. Aunt Sue is home safe with her daughter and son-in-law, and I’ve already got someone going over there first thing to clear their driveway.

Jefferson seems to have everything under control, so I guess there’s not much for me to do other than go home. I grab my baseball cap and put it on, then grab my keys off the desk. Just when my fingers wrap around the keys, the power flickers and then goes off.

“Shit,” I say to the dark.

The generator is supposed to be switched on already, but I guess the guys forgot to do that earlier. I walk over to the panel on the wall and hit a few buttons. A second later, the power comes back on and I make sure the generator is set. Now even if the power goes off again, this place won’t miss a beat.

I pull on my heavy dark blue Carhartt jacket, but just when I’m about to walk out the door, the phone rings. Jefferson was supposed to have all calls forwarded to him, but I’m guessing the power knocked it offline. I can hit the button to reroute them again. At least I know how to do that much. But if I don’t answer this call, the person on the other end might get disconnected.

With a heavy sigh, I walk over to the desk and pick up the phone. “Pruitt’s Plows.”

“Hi, um. I’m wondering if you um, plow snow?” I can hardly hear the soft voice on the other end of the line.

“That’s pretty much all we do,” I say, and then it’s followed by a long silence. “Are you there?”

“What? Yes. Sorry.” She hesitates. “H-how much is it?” The wind is loud through the phone, and I wonder if this woman is calling me from outside.”

“It depends on the size of the driveway and where you’re at. Give me your address, and I can get someone to come out.”

“Oh. Um, just an estimate is fine. I don’t have much, so I don’t want to waste your time.”

I let out an aggravated sigh. “You’ll be wasting my time if you don't tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” the soft voice says, and then she sniffles. “I’m new to town. Let me find it.” There’s a rustling that sounds like she’s flipping through papers. “It’s 17 Maple Street. It’s a green house with a brown door.”

“You’re at the old Murphy place?” If she’s where I think she is, then getting her out of there is going to be tough. Eli Murphy is a shady landlord that charges an arm and a leg for shit boxes that aren’t fit to live in. This one in particular is on a steep hill that even our plows have a hard time getting down.

“I think so?” It sounds like her teeth are chattering. “I just needed to get my car out.”

“I’ll come take a look,” I tell her, and before she can protest, I hang up the phone.

Hitting the button to reroute the phone, I see the lines light up so I know it’s working again. After that’s set, I go out into the storm and get in my diesel truck.

It’s going to be fucking cold tonight, but there’s no reason to hurry home to an empty house.