“Wish I knew, Mark. Wish I knew.”
“Not looking good for you, Donovan.”
“Fucking tell me about it.” I rub a hand down my face and scratch my beard.
“I hope for your sake that number doesn’t climb."
“You and me both.”
“Well, sorry I couldn’t offer much for help, but if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”
“Will do. Thanks for getting back to me,” I tell him before hanging up the phone and letting out a sigh.
Still no closer to answers.
It’s been a rather quiet day in the bakery today, which is a little odd for a Saturday, but I am super grateful for a much needed slower pace. Sarah and I were able to catch up on a few orders and even had time to reorganize the kitchen without any interruptions, and it felt really good to get a lot done.
We’re busy washing the windows when I see Harper walking up to the door. Placing the wet cloth back into the bucket, I dry my hands on my apron and greet her as she enters.
“Hi, Harper. How are you?”
“Hey, I’m doing okay. Really looking forward to going to Buckles tonight. I could use a good drink with friends. What about you guys?” She smiles, making her way closer to the till, meeting me there.
“Just enjoying the slow day,” I tell her.
“How are you not sweating to death in that sweater?” Sarah asks her, mouth agape.
Her cheeks flush, and when she reaches up to tug at the neck of her sweater, I freeze when I see what looks like bruising wrapping around her wrist.
“I’m just cold today.” She laughs nervously. I look at Sarah but she doesn’t seem to have noticed what I did. Maybe I’mwrong and it was just a shadow. “I was actually coming in to ask if I can hang up a flyer advertising the book club with our next month’s pick on your bulletin board?” she asks, holding up the flyer.
“Absolutely!” I tell her.
“Perfect, thanks! Oh, what time should we meet at Buckles?” she asks us.
“Does eight sound good?” Sarah asks, and we both nod.
“Perfect. See you guys later!” Harper yells, leaving the shop after hanging her flyer.
Once the door closes behind her, I turn to Sarah. “Did you see anything on Harper’s wrist?”
Sarah looks at me, brows furrowed. “No. What was on them?” she asks.
“Hmm. Maybe it was just shadows then. I thought I saw a bruise.”
“I didn’t notice anything, but I can look tonight.”
The bell above the door chimes, and Sarah lets out a quiet groan when Mrs. Ira and the knitting ladies walk inside.
“Hi, ladies,” I greet.
“Afternoon, girls,” they all chorus, making their way to the counter.
After each one of them has their orders and are seated at a table, I walk past to grab my washing bucket when Mrs. Ira starts talking.
“So, Jadie. I couldn’t help but notice that a certain man in uniform arrived with you last night and was still there when I went to bed. And then wouldn’t you know it, I saw the two of you leaving together this morning.”
My cheeks flush, and I hear something clatter from the back of the room. Turning, I spot Sarah, who is giving me a death glare.
