“Wes has gold?” I glance up at Maris, but she just rolls her eyes. “Emma—Mrs. Stonewall—is trying to cut back on her hours. So she wanted someone who could be here during the day when you and Juno are at school.”
“Hmm. I guess that makes sense.” Maris looks me up and down in the completely unsubtle way of the teenage girl. “How’d you meet Wes, anyway?”
I can’t say the truth: that I hired him to track down my husband and our relationship culminated when we discovered that my now-dead husband is a serial killer—but the bad kind?—and he was there when his father killed Wes’s family. Oh, and Wes and his brother killed my dead husband’s father a decade ago.
“We worked together.” I go with a three-word, less-illegal summary instead.
She narrows her eyes further.
The bell above the coffee shop door jingles, and I’m relieved when a woman with two young daughters walks in to interrupt the awkward conversation. It’s Saturday and almost closing time after my first week of work at Killer Beans. It was kind of fate when I stopped in a week or so after the Shane fiasco was over. Emma was here all alone, and she looked so tired. After I explained to her that I’d just moved to Lake Savage and was living with Wes, she immediately warmed to me and raved about his pies.
Then she asked if I needed a job. Which, I did.
“Maris, why don’t you help this family?” I look up and smile at the mom with her girls. “And then you can head home.”
Maris rolls her eyes and humphs, but then takes the family’s order with almost a smile. I turn and wipe down thecoffee machines as part of the closing checklist Emma prepared for me.
So much has changed in my life, and the changes keep coming. I’m still processing the acceptance that came in yesterday to a Master of Library Science program in Portland. Classes are in-person two days a week, plus online.
The tiny library in Lake Savage is run by a librarian who is about seventy-five years old, and when I stopped in to introduce myself and tell her about the program, her eyes widened, and she said she’d be retiring soon. It seems like fate.
Maris is adding generous amounts of whipped cream to two hot chocolates when the bell jingles again.
I turn with a smile, expecting to see another local customer.
Instead, it’s my half-sister.
“Meadow,” I say, shock in my voice.
“Hey, Callie.” She gives me a tentative smile. Her cheeks are pink, and she pulls a long blonde braid over her shoulder, so similar to mine except in color.
My heart squeezes at the sight of her. Being in New York during the whole fight club drama with Shane made me realize I’ve neglected my relationship with Meadow. We didn’t grow up together, but that’s no reason for us not to get to know each other as adults.
“It’s so good to see you. What brings you to Lake Savage?” When I realize that sounds sort of aggressive, I add a big smile. “You’re always welcome here, of course.”
“I wanted to come see where you live.” Meadow sniffles. Her eyes are slightly puffy, the skin around them pink.
Maris is watching the interaction with keen attention, having handed off the hot drinks to the family. I’m sure she’s going to report back to her mother or her friends orwhomever and there will be a whole new rumor about Wes’s gold-digger girlfriend.
“Maris, thanks for your help today. See you next week, right?”
I swear to god she rolls her eyes at me again and mutters something under her breath as she takes off her apron and reaches under the counter for her bag.
Maris walks out with a final curious glance at Meadow.
Meadow and I are left standing in front of the register. She’s smiling brightly and looking around like she’s never seen a coffee shop, and I’m trying to figure out what to say since she’s not offering an explanation for why she’s here.
“You okay, Meadow? It’s so good to see you, but?—”
“I’m sorry for just showing up.” Meadow interrupts. “I—” She turns to me with wide eyes that are filled with tears. “Well, things kind of fell apart for me in New York.”
“Oh. Shit. Hey, why don’t you sit?” I gesture to a table. There are no more customers in sight, and we’re almost at closing time, so while Meadow pulls up a chair at the round table, I flick the sign on the door to closed and click the lock. “Tea? Coffee?”
“You don’t have alcohol, do you?”
“Nope, it’s a coffee shop only.”
“Damn.” She rubs her hands together. “Tea would be nice then.”
