Page 37 of The Guest Cottage
Sandra flinched. “Oh my God, how can you say that?” The words came on a faint breath of sound. “My son is dead and you cast blame on him?”
Staying strong, Marlow softened her tone but not her stance. “Dylan was a grown man who made his own choices. Like all of us, he sometimes chose badly.”
“He didn’t deserve to die,” Aston growled.
“No, he didn’t.” She could at least agree with that. “I still can’t come back. Iwon’tcome back.”
“But there’s gossip,” Sandra insisted. “First because of that little tramp, and now with you disappearing . . .”
“You’ve dealt with gossip before.”
“Not like this—not about my son!”
Marlow knew that Sandra wouldn’t relent, not for any reason. She was used to getting her way, and right now she was hurting. She couldn’t think about anyone else, certainly not Marlow. “I’m sorry that the divorce and the reasons for it became public. That wasn’t my choice. As you can see, I’m out of the public eye. No reporters have approached me, and I can’t imagine anyone will.”
“You could end it if you’d—”
Refusing the request before it was asked, Marlow shook her head. “No. Please don’t ask again. The answer won’t change.” If she had to leave Bramble someday, she still wouldn’t return to Illinois.
“Selfish,” Aston muttered, his eyes narrowed and mean. “I told Sandra this would be a waste of time.”
So much for showing grace. “I need to get back to work.”
Taking that as his cue, Cort approached. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Then don’t,” Aston said.
Cort completely ignored him. “You’re needed in the kitchen.”
She nodded, then said to Sandra and Aston, “Drive safely.” She started to move away but hesitated. “I hope you both find peace.”
Their angry glares proved her effort was wasted. She turned, realized Cort wasn’t following, and stalled . . . until Herman frantically gestured at her. With no other choice, she had to trust that Cort wouldn’t start anything.
“Sorry,” she immediately whispered to Herman.
He didn’t seem to hear her apology as he offered, “Want me to get rid of them?”
He was so jumpy about it, she couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “How would you do that?”
“Fire alarm. There’s no fire,” he admitted, “but we do tests every now and then.”
God love him, he lightened her mood with such a silly suggestion. “Now, Herman. Would I disrupt all your patrons like that?”
“Probably not,” he said, “but I would.” He peered out at the silent standoff currently taking place between Cort and the Heddings. “Might be fun.”
She pulled him into the kitchen, and then into a warm hug that made him stiffen and chuckle nervously.
“Here now.” Awkwardly, he patted her back. “Let’s do that alarm.”
“No,” she said, giggling.Giggling!She never giggled, and until now, she would have bet that she didn’t know how. “Listen.” She paused for effect. “Hear that? Everyone is chatting again, so I’m sure my visitors are gone and your customers are getting back to eating and drinking. Which means I need to get back out there.”
His expression softened with a goofy smile. “You’re a good sort, Marlow, and a damn fine employee.”
No one had ever called her agood sortbefore. She liked it. “Thank you.” Pleased with the sentiment, she turned in a rush and slammed into Cort. Good God, it was like running into a boulder.
He didn’t budge, but she bounced back a foot and likely would have landed on her derriere if he hadn’t caught her arms. She ended up bumping against him again, this time more gently.
“Hey, are you okay?”
