Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
But we all carefully avoided talking about that.
Talking about Monroe’s investigation and Holden’s true-crime podcast would mean talking about my mother. Which wasn’t happening any more than I was confessing to having listened to the podcast, including the most recent episode about the serial killer’s confession and sentencing. He’d already been serving multiple life sentences. What was one more? I’d chucked my prior phone against the wall. Just as well. I’d been due a change of numbers.
“What can we help with?” Sam asked as Holden ushered the four of us in through the single-story house toward the rear patio. His furniture all matched. Nothing like the luxury, ultra-modern vibe of my pricey loft, but adult and cozy nonetheless. Soft music added to the warm ambiance, along with a tray of drink options near the patio door.
“Cal? Do you need a hand?” Holden’s tone was so affectionate that the rest of us might as well have not been there.
“I’ve got it. Chicken is about to go on the grill.” Cal gestured at a prep table next to the grill. “Vegetables too.”
Yap. Yap. Yap. Buttercup came darting from the bushes by the fence line. I welcomed her doggie greeting, bending down to pet her, muddy paws and dusty fur and all. Someone was going to need another bath.
“I’m back, girl,” I whispered, testing out the words as the others exchanged greetings and back-slapping hugs. Sam had said I could keep her. I wasn’t sure I’d trust me with a cactus, but if Buttercup was willing to look past my shortcomings, maybe I could too.
“We brought salad, and Knox has brownies from Leon.” Monroe held up a wooden bowl. The two of them were one casserole away from peak domestic bliss.
“Frank and Leon are still kicking?” The former owners of Measure Twice had been a fixture around town in my teens. Unlike the Kozy Kurl owners, I’d always suspected Frank and Leon were a couple, but it wasn’t something people talked much about then.
“Yep. They got married a few years back when it first became legal. Still living in the same old house, and they don’t know the meaning of retirement. Can’t keep them away from the Lucky Penny.” Monroe smiled fondly before Knox dragged him over to a nearby glider. “You’ll need to come see the place. It’s a far cry from Aunt Henri’s old house. Knox is a magician.”
“Mm-hmm.” I made a noncommittal noise as Sam pressed a bottle of water in my hand and steered me into a boxy wicker chair. Thank God for Sam. Without his quiet support and direction, I couldn’t do this. As it was, I had no idea how to manage enough small talk to skirt everything we weren’t talking about.
“How’s the new nephew?” Sam blessedly asked Holden, taking the focus off me. Funny to think of Holden’s little brother as a dad. Grownups. We were all supposed to be adults now, and indeed, I felt ancient. But wise?
Nope.
Any smarts I’d once laid claim to seemed to have evaporated under the weight of the last year. Buttercup snuggled next to me in the oversized chair, and I let the conversation swirl around me. I was more than content to keep the chatter to babies, remodeling, gardening experiments, and town gossip.
I didn’t know how to act around my oldest friends, didn’t know how to be this person they all seemed to think I was now. At some point, Sam handed me a plate of chicken, vegetables, and some grilled bread. I’d had my first dose of ulcer meds, and despite my unease, I felt like the food might have a fighting chance of staying down.
Well, right up until Monroe turned toward me with that too-adult face and voice. Hell, I spotted more than a couple of silver threads among his light-brown hair. Mr. Older and Wiser peered intently at me, and I shifted in the seat.
“What can we do to help you, Worth?”
Hell if I know. I did at least recognize that I couldn’t snap at him. But if I knew what would help, I probably wouldn’t be here in Safe Harbor, lost among familiar faces.
“Sam’s the one who needs our help.” I tried a different tactic, aiming for distraction. “The new Green Label coffee house is set to drive Blessed Bean out of business.”
“Not the way Holden frequents the place.” Cal snorted.
“One customer, even a daily one, isn’t enough to pay the overhead. What’s the current profit margin?” I turned toward Sam. I’d promised to save the place. No time like the present to get started.
“I don’t know. We get by.” He sipped his iced tea, a similar can to the one Cal held. The other three had beers, and much as I wouldn’t have minded a buzz right then, I wasn’t about to push my stomach. Sam let out a yawn, hardly helping my change-the-topic campaign. “I can show you the books sometime.”