“Hmm.” Rosie taps her long pink nails against the wooden countertop. There’s a little rose design on her ring finger nail.
I feel like I might jump out of this chair and scream. Notonly has the letter got me all antsy, but the lack of work this week is driving me batty. Going from slaving away in tourist-filled hotels, where the kitchen staff is always overworked and never had free time, to this nothingness leaves me itching to move my body. To use my mind. To dosomething.
“Want me to cover the bar while you read that?” I offer, ready to bounce off my chair if she says yes.
Rosie raises a single brow and then dashes my excitement with a shake of her head. “Stay.”
“Come on. You are killing me here. Do you think Penny’s right? Is Walker up to no good?”
My sister had to go back to her bookstore because she has an actual job, which left me with the task of getting to the bottom of the letter.
Rosie drops the paper and rests her elbows on the bar, leaning in close. “It does seem a bit suspect.”
My stomach sinks. Rosie and Penny are always the more reasonable ones. Sure, Rosie is over the top sometimes, and she got me into plenty of trouble growing up, but she doesn’t jump to conclusions. I’m an “act first, ask questions later” type of girl. Rosie is fearless, but she always assesses the risk first and somehow manages to make the right choice. The brewery is the perfect example. She saw something she wanted and didn’t let anything stop her from opening it, despite the town’s initial objections.
Penny, on the other hand, has always had her head in the clouds. A dreamer for which life seems effortless. Though Isuppose I’m seeing cracks in both my best friend’s and my sister’s facades. Penny doesn’t have her life nearly as put together as she had me believe while I was away. She’s hurt and jaded. More than I expected her to be. Penny believes in happy ever afters. Hell, up until Dick the douche, it was basically her entire personality. I like that she’s suspicious of Walker because it makes me feel less crazy. But I’m not sure I like that she’s lost that innocent belief that everything will always be okay in the end. Somehow having my big sister believe that so strongly made it all seem possible. Made it feel like one day I could also have that.
The bell above the door announces a new customer. My lips curl the minute I see it’s Fletcher Matthews walking in with his dog. “Eleven o’clock on the dot,” I tease Rosie, trying to make her smile.
She grabs a cloth and starts vigorously scrubbing the bar.
“I still don’t get why you hate him so much. Did you know he’s a widower?” I ask out of the side of my mouth as I watch him greet Rosie’s customers with an easy smile and friendly conversation. This week, when I had nothing to do, I spent the afternoon with my mother and some of the other Liberty Ladies. They told me that his wife had died suddenly and that Fletcher has been raising his son alone since the boy was only six months old. It’s a tragic story. Yet the guy is always smiling. How does one smile through all that heartache?
Rosie lets out a heavy sigh. “Yup.”
“Rosie,” I chide, sounding an awful lot like my mother.
She rolls her eyes. “Maybe he killed her.” She shrugs her shoulders and throws her hands up in the air. “Maybe he was so bad in bed she decided death was the better option.”
“Oh my God!” I clamp my hand over her mouth right as Fletcher pulls up a stool next to me.
“Hi, Tally. How’s everything on the farm?”
I don’t reply for a second, paralyzed with the fear that he just overheard our conversation.
“Muts should sit outside,” Rosie grumbles even as she grabs a treat from behind the bar and comes around and kneels in front of the dog so he can eat it straight from her palm. “I’m talking about you,” she says, glaring up at Fletcher.
The man flashes her one of his mega-watt smiles. One day I will get the story behind these two.
“Farm is good. Boring. But good,” I mumble.
“Everything ready for the Daffodil Festival?”
I shake my head. “I really don’t think it is.”
Rosie’s head pops up from her position on the floor, and I can feel her glare. She doesn’t want me involving Fletcher in the farm’s business. But he’s our mayor, and the farm is an integral part of the community. If someone is threatening our community, he should know about it.
“All the tulips, which would normally be blooming by now, are still covered in tarps. I’m not sure why Walker hasn’t taken them off.” I shrug my shoulders innocently. “My father never put tarps on his plants.”
Fletcher frowns. Like everyone else, he probably thinks Walker knows exactly what he’s doing, so I change tactic. “Or maybe Walker didn’t want to ask for help. The Daffodil Festival is only a few week away, and there is just so much work still to do. It is his first season doing it all himself.” I let those words hang there. Wait for Fletcher to take the bait.
“You think he’s too proud to ask for support?” Fletcherasks. This time, I don’t get the feeling he finds the idea preposterous.
“Yes, I do. Maybe I’ll just do the work myself,” I say brightly. “Surprise him.”
“You’re going to uncover all the flowers?” Rosie asks suspiciously as she pushes to a stand and leans against the counter.
“Yeah, sure. Why not?”
