Gramps chuckled. “Perfect escape vehicle. Won’t draw attention at all.”
“Well, it’s either that or strap yourself to the corn fritter cart.” Aggie threw her fin into the air. “What’s it gonna be?”
Bea threw him a sly smile. “Pick quick, sweetheart. The parade waits for no man.”
And somehow, in that ridiculous moment, with the shrimp, the funnel cake queen, and his grandfather holding a set of stolen keys, the first flare of hope bloomed in Jack’s chest. “Let’s do this,” he said, standing up with as much swagger as he could muster.
Aggie stepped closer, eyeing him up and down. “If you’re going to march out of here like a prince on a parade float, the least you can do is wash the blood off your face. Jails arecesspools of filth.” She pointed at the rust-stained sink in the corner with a look that dared him to argue.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jack gave a tired grin and limped toward the sink. He soaped up his hands and splashed water on his face, the cold sting waking him up a little more.
“That’s better,” Aggie said with a satisfied nod. “Now go get your girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The café felt like a tomb. It was too quiet, thick with the choking weight of failure. Cora slumped behind the counter, clutching her grandmother’s favorite apron to her chest. The clock on the wall ticked loud and steady, everyclicka gut punch, counting down to midnight. To the end of everything Lolly had built.
She flinched at the sound of another knock at the door. How many had there been today? Well-wishers, neighbors poking their heads in, and at least one overeager real estate agent, probably salivating at the thought of slapping a “For Sale” sign out front. She kept ignoring them, burrowing deeper into her misery with every tap on the glass. She just wanted to be left alone.
“Cora? Honey, are you in there?” Mrs. Henshaw, Lolly’s old neighbor, said through the door. “I brought you a chili dog. Thought you might need a pick-me-up.”
A laugh nearly clawed its way out, but it got stuck somewhere between a scoff and a sob. A chili dog? Like that was going to save the day. Not even a truckload of chili dogs could fix this mess.
At least she wasn’t alone. Governor Sam had been planted at her side all night, his big, sad eyes tracking her everymove. He’d nuzzled his face onto her lap more times than she could count, leaning his heavy body against her leg as if he could keep the pieces of her from spilling out onto the floor. Now and then, he’d let out a deep, mournful sigh that echoed her own.
“You’re not helping, Sam,” she muttered, scratching behind his ears.
His tail thumped weakly against the floor. He wasn’t buying her lie.
“Fine, you are helping,” she admitted, her fingers curling into his fur. “But not enough to fix this. Sorry, buddy. Not even you can pull that off.”
She pushed to her feet and wandered around the café, but every step dragged her deeper into the mess of her thoughts. Lolly had poured her heart into this place. Every recipe card, every crooked picture frame on the wall, and every smudge of flour on the windowsill whispered her name. And Jack, who was no doubt sitting alone in a holding cell, had fought so hard for something that was never really his to save.
Neither of them got what they wanted. Not Lolly. Not Jack.
And not even her.
A knock, this one louder and sharper, broke through her thoughts.
“Cora!” Nathaniel called through the door. “Time’s up. Open the door.”
She slid the bolt back, and the door practically flew open. Nathaniel burst through, a trail of suited goons close behind him.
“Hello, Cora,” Nathaniel said with a sneer.
There it was—that broken nose. The one that reminded her that Jack had stood up for her earlier. A flicker of satisfaction bloomed in her chest before Nathaniel’s voice pulled her back.
“So good of you to let us in. I was afraid we’d have to break down the door.”
She crossed her arms, trying to keep her hands from shaking. “You’ve got no right to be here, Nathaniel. The loan’s not due until midnight.”
He chuckled, the sound grating on every nerve. “Ever the optimist, I see. But let’s be realistic. The café is mine now.” He turned to his crew of suits, barking orders like some B-list villain. “Jackson, catalog the equipment. Peters, inventory the stock. And someone,please, remove that dog. I refuse to conduct business with an animal sprawled out on the floor.”
Theanimalin question barely flicked an ear. Governor Sam had other plans. With a heavy sigh, he flopped onto his side, making himself even more comfortable, right in the middle of the entrance.
One of Nathaniel’s assistants crept toward him. “Uh, hey, buddy...let’s move it along?”
Sam blinked lazily. Then, to really hammer it home, he let out a low grunt and sprawled out, taking up more room than a good-sized area rug.
