And I thought I understood, but understanding and taking a leap to trust people again are two completely different things.
Can I?
Can I risk letting someone destroy me all over again in the name of doinggoodinstead ofjustice?
I might not be from a small town, but I know how gossip works.
I know Sabrina could turn the town against me with a single sentence. Probably no more than three well-thought-out words.
And instead, I have a fridge stocked with food courtesy of new neighbors or local restaurants, all of whom gave me discounts. We’ve received welcome gifts from other neighbors and shop owners, including six bottles of wine, two loaves of homemade bread, dozens of cookies and cupcakes, bags of vegetables, and a jar of local honey that has me intrigued but unable to track down the source just yet.
We’ve barely been here a week, and they’re taking care of us despite us doing nothing to deserve it.
I press my ear to the wall, straining to hear more of the conversation between Sabrina and her mother, but all I detect is silence.
Are they in the kitchen?
Is she making more coffee?
She hasn’t been more than three feet from a coffee cup or mug anytime I’ve seen her this week. She seems to live off the stuff, which shouldn’t be charming, but it is.
Sheliveswhat she says she loves.
But I don’t hear coffee maker sounds either.
Does she know I can hear her?
Are they talking about the café and my plans for it?
I deserve this, so I’ll take my punishment.
The number of times I thought that to myself when I was growing up…
I can’t do this.
I can’t get vengeance if it means hurting innocent bystanders.
It’s not about my attraction to her.
It’s about doing what’s right. What’sfullyright.
If I can figure out whatrightis.
16
Sabrina
Normally on anygiven Sunday evening, Jitter and I would head out early to Silver Horn or the pub by City Hall and our statue dedicated to Ol’ Snaggletooth, our town’s proverbial original gold miner, and hang out with friends until it’s late enough that I know I’ll have regrets Monday morning.
But today’s been a hard day, and all I want to do is watch an old Razzle Dazzle film with a cup of coffee in hand and my dog acting like a pillow while I work up the nerve to follow through with the plan that my gut tells me is the key to getting my café back.
Unfortunately, nerves and coffee mean I sit still about as well as Theo, so I eventually shut off the movie that I can recite word for word and grab my coat and Jitter’s leash.
We need to go for a walk.
It doesn’t matter that Grandma took him for forty-three walks earlier, he’s still game. We head in the opposite direction of the dog park. It’s too dark to let Jitter off his leash, and even though he’s a solid deterrent to some of the larger mountain predators, I don’t want him running off and chasing deer or elk.
No one’s out and about. No neighbors to stop and casually chat with. I try calling an old college friend, and my call rolls straight to voicemail.
