Page 63

CORRINE

“I love you, sweet pea.”

I didn’t want to move or breathe. He hadn’t called me sweet pea since I was six years old. My father smoothed the hair out of my face and crooked a finger under my chin.

“You look more like your mother every day.”

“I miss her,” I said.

“Do you? She wasn’t always so nice to you, was she?”

I felt a lump in my throat the size of a grapefruit. This was the most lucid Dad had been in a year. And Sylvie and PJ were missing it.

“She did the best she could,” I said.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”

A nurse waved to me from across the cafeteria. Dad was late getting to physical therapy. After that, they would take him to bingo. He needed help running a card, but sometimes they let him call the numbers.

“I’ll see you next week,” I said.

“There’s a twenty in my money clip on the kitchen counter. Go to the store and get some hamburger. We’ll grill out tonight.”

“You got it,” I said. I gave him a kiss and let one of the nurse’s aides take him to his next stop. Char Davies, the administrator, walked me out.

“I’m working on it,” I told her, before she had a chance to bombard me with his financial woes again.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s taken care of. Your father’s paid up for six more months.”

I stopped. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought you knew.”

“No,” I said, my pulse quickening. “I didn’t know anything about it. Who paid it? Was it by check?”

Char’s face went pale. “It was a cash payment. I’m not the one who took it. I just assumed your family handled this.”

“How much is six months’ worth?” I asked.

“His out of pocket? Fifteen thousand dollars. Is there something wrong?”

I found a smile. “No. It’s nothing. I’m just surprised.”

“So was I. But that should take some pressure off you for a while. He really is having a good week.”

“Thank you,” I said. My head started to buzz. Fifteen thousand dollars. Cash. PJ didn’t have that kind of money. Neither did I. What in the world was going on?

I couldn’t think about it now. I wouldn’t let myself. I was once again late getting to the bar. PJ was in Grand Rapids this morning. Sylvie had something going with one of the kids. They’d left it to me to open. PJ’s way of giving me another chance. I could only guess what garbage Sylvie had told him about our confrontation the other day.

My shoulders sank with relief when I pulled into the parking lot. PJ’s car was still gone. I had a good twenty minutes before he showed up. Plenty of time to make it look like I’d been here for two hours.

I raced inside and started turning lights on. Thankfully, last night’s closers did a good job with their clean-ups. I barely needed to be here early at all.

I wiped down the bar. PJ had three big-screen TVs on the far wall. I turned all three screens to the local news stations. As soon as the regulars started filing in, they’d argue about what cable news outlet to turn them to. Sometimes, it erupted into political discussions.

I headed back to the kitchen, churned the ice in the big bin, then filled two buckets to take to the coolers behind the bar. As I walked out, the center television cut to a press conference. A uniformed sheriff from Washtenaw County stepped behind a lectern and cleared his throat.

“As of this morning, an arrest has been made in the Gretchen Small case.”