“Sure,” I said, turning back with a neutral expression. “Like I said, I doubt she’d share that sort of thing with me. I’m just staff.”
She waved a hand as if my role didn’t matter. I was clearly expected to pass the message on. Then a thought hit me.
“Aren’t you a daily regular at Bean There? What would Big Boss Betty say about your wanting to buy the only competing café in town?”
A flicker of a smile passed across her lips.
“How do you know I’m a daily regular?”
I shrugged. “In a small town like this, one hears things. Even newcomers.”
Her gaze raked over my face, trying to read more than was being said before she answered. “In business, you have to recognise opportunity. Being open to seeing it where others don’t is what gets you ahead. Loyalty is weakness.”
“Sounds like a great way to make friends, maybe you should make a bumper sticker.” The woman made my insides shudder.
“What do you know about making friends?” She flashed her tea-stained grin at me.
I wasn’t sure if she was guessing I was terrible at it or if she really did know more than I thought she did.
“A bouquet of orchids goes down a treat on a birthday.”
Her expression didn’t change. “You’ve been given a great opportunity. You’d do well to recognise it.”
The subject of Bean There made me think of Olivia, the woman I’d seen working there. The one who probably now thought I fancied her, given how much I’d stared. I’d meant to go back and talk to her, but between cleaning and avoidance, I hadn’t found the time.
“What do you know about Olivia? The one working for Big Boss Betty?”
Miss Lissy sighed, irritated by the topic change. “You’d do well not to call her that. She wouldn’t like it.”
“Olivia? What does she prefer then? Liv?”
“Ignorance doesn’t suit you. You know who I mean,” she snapped. “Why do you care about Olivia? She’s a local single mum who works in a café.”
“Is there something wrong with being a single parent working in a café?”
“Children needtwoparents,” she scoffed. “It’s impossible for one person to do both jobs.”
Geez, talk about old-fashioned.
“I was raised by one parent,” I replied, tight-lipped.
Miss Lissy leaned back in her chair. “And look where that got you.”
Ouch.
I didn’t know whether to ask my question now, but at this point in my investigation, Miss Lissy was still my best bet at identifying Olivia. From memory, she was a ‘life-timer’—one of the children who had no parents to collect her and likely stayed until she turned eighteen. I shuddered at the thought.
“Is she the same Olivia from the children’s home?”
Miss Lissy nearly spat out her iced tea. “Olivia Pratt? No, she moved out-of-town years ago.”
I didn’t blame her. I’d have left as soon as I could too. But bonus—I now had her surname.
Miss Lissy eyed me. “Why do you ask? Trying to organise a reunion?”
“If she were Olivia Pratt, she might know something about who left me the house.”
“You’re still planning on giving it back?” she asked, as if she couldn’t believe anyone would do something so stupid.
