I finished the last of the dishes, and Jessi stacked her tips into neat little piles. She stared at the money for a moment, eyes damp.
“How much?” I asked.
“Enough to cover the rest of my rent this month and help out with my other bills, too. If Sawyer pays me back for the cost of the food like he promised.”
“Oh, he will. I heard Scarlett thanking him over and over again and making sure everybody at the dinner knew he was footing the bill. She’s a smart one.”
“I know it. Scarlett’s one of my favorite people in Hartley. If it wasn’t for people like her, I might’ve given up a while ago.”
I pushed through the swinging door and came around to the front of the counter, leaning against a barstool. “Not sure I believe that. I think you would’ve stuck it out. You’re tough.”
She shrugged dismissively.
“No,” I argued. “It’s true.” Jessi had a soft femininity that some might mistake for weakness. That was probably what Jeremy Rigsby had seen. A beautiful girl he could mold into whatever he wanted. But her backbone was steel underneath. “I’m not saying it to flatter you or cheer you up. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
She studied me like she was searching my words for some agenda. There wasn’t one.
“I would’ve stuck it out,” she said. “And I’ll keep doing it. Easier when things actually gowellfor once.” She pointed at the money. “I’m going to put this in the safe before it wanders off.” She gathered up the cash, went into the back, and then reemerged in the kitchen, where I’d gone back to the dishes.
The diner didn’t have a liquor license, so I grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. “Another toast to standing your ground?”
She laughed. “Maybe later. After the mess is cleaned up. That wasyourtoast yesterday, don’t forget.”
“I haven’t. Those are words I live by.” I didn’t like leaving things unfinished.
Despite some vague promises of road-repair crews from Sawyer Rigsby, the bridge was still closed.Maybe tomorrow, I thought. I still hoped to make it to my vacation cabin rental. That meant I had, at most, another day to see Jessi settled. But things were looking up for her. We were on the right track.
I smiled a little to myself, enjoying the feeling of progress. Of order re-established in the world.
* * *
Jessi took over the dishes, and I went to take out the trash, which was full to bursting. I didn’t bother to put on my coat as I hefted the trash bag and pushed through the back door.
The diner had a small dumpster out here. I lifted the lid and tossed the bag inside, relatching it carefully to keep any curious bears out.
My breath puffed in front of me, barely visible in the shadows. Faint light came from the windows of the houses on the surrounding streets. Hartley had returned to quiet again. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the snow, which still blanketed the streets despite all the efforts to clear it away. Or if Hartley usually closed up after nightfall.
The town had a sleepy vibe, but having two siblings in law enforcement had taught me that sometimes, there’s a lot more beneath the surface of a place than you might think.
I’d grown up in West Oaks, which seemed like an idyllic seaside enclave. But some messed-up things had gone on there too. Organized crime, kidnappings, murders. According to my sister Madison, who was a West Oaks cop and hostage negotiator, less than half of the worst crimes got any publicity. From what I’d seen in the Army, I believed it. The world could be a lawless, cruel place.
Every town had its secrets.Especiallya charming, historic, and isolated place like Hartley. But the quiet was nice. The sweet, clean mountain smell in the air… The girl running the local diner. She was awfully nice as well.
Staying here another day wouldn’t be so bad.
Noise and movement caught my attention from further down the street. I was on the rear side of the diner, the wide sort of alleyway behind the commercial strip. I’d just spotted someone coming out the back door of another building. The brief rise and fall of music suggested he’d just exited the Hartley Saloon. Same parking lot where I’d left my car last night, and where it still sat now, obscured by a covering of snow.
My eyes followed the figure as he stumbled along toward a vehicle. A security light shone like a spot over him, illuminating the massive dark bruise and white bandage over the man’s nose.
It was Chester Rigsby.
Chester sat against the hood of a car and lit up a cigarette. I backed slowly toward the rear wall of the diner, just in case he might look over and see me. But he seemed preoccupied with his thoughts. The end of his cigarette burned orange as he inhaled.
Then another car pulled into the saloon lot. Chester glanced up. The newcomer parked beside him and got out. This was an older man who looked a lot like Sawyer Rigsby, but had darker hair and was leaner around the middle.
I guessed he was Dale, Chester’s father.
Then Dale pushed Chester roughly up against the car. The angry tones of his words carried toward me, but not their meaning. As I’d claimed countless times in my life, I preferred to mind my own business. But for my remaining time in Hartley, brief though it was, Jessi’s businesswasofficially mine. And it was possible this father-and-son argument pertained to her.
