Page 25 of The Jilted Lovers Club
She glances at Bob, who stays silent, focused on his food.
When I look at Jordy, I can tell she caught the exchange. This isn’t just about a store.
Jordy lets the moment settle before shifting the conversation.
“Bec, this is the best meal I’ve ever had,” she says, her voice lighter now. “My grandmother used to make stew, but it never tasted like this. What’s your secret?”
Bec’s cheeks flush under the compliment. She made us pot roast stew with buttermilk biscuits—the kind of meal that settles deep in your belly, warming places you didn’t even realize were cold.
“Oh, it’s just an old family recipe,” Bec says with a modest wave of her hand. “Stew always tastes best at the end of a busy day.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Bob grunts. “She sweats the onions in a quarter bottle of wine, then adds a few extra dashes of Worcestershire, and she thickens it with mashed potato instead of flour.”
“Bob, you’re giving away all my secrets.” Bec swats his arm playfully, but her eyes crinkle with affection.
Across the table, Lottie is wearing more stew than what she put in her mouth. Bec sighs. “Well, I see someone’s going to need a bath after this.”
For Lottie, I always mash the stew up extra fine, then tear up a biscuit so she can grasp the pieces with her tiny fingers. Shelikes feeding herself—insists on it—so meals like this always end in a bath. But just like the rest of us, this is one of her favorites, and she hums quietly as she works at the bowl in front of her.
Bec sets her spoon down, her expression darkening. “I’m going to have a talk with Griffin next time I’m in town,” she mutters. “Or maybe I’ll bring it up when I play Bridge with Bernie—let her know what her son’s been up to.”
Jordy groans. “Wait, Bernie is Griffin’s mom? My god, is everyone related in this town?”
Bec chuckles. “No, but I know it seems that way.”
Then, after a pause, her voice softens. “I think you know that our daughter used to manage The Till before she…”
She trails off, glancing at Bob.
He inhales sharply, then clears his throat, all without looking at her.
“Excuse me,” he says, pushing back from the table. “Thanks for dinner, honey.”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, then takes his bowl to the sink and disappears down the hall toward the family room.
Bec lets out a slow breath, her fingers tightening around her napkin.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “He doesn’t like talking about Sasha.” Her voice wavers. “I guess neither of us do.”
Jordy is quiet for a moment, studying Bec with a look of quiet understanding. Then she says gently, “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
She glances at me, something unreadable flickering in her gaze before turning back to Bec.
“But I know that this town loved your daughter, and that you all miss her very much.” Her voice is steady, but there is something raw beneath it. “And I know it must be hard to see me transforming a space that Sasha once designed and managed.Loyalty runs deep here, and while it’s been hard to navigate as an outsider … I’m also a little in awe of it.”
She hesitates, then adds, “Where I come from, loyalty often comes with collateral. Even my own mom would sell me out for the right price.”
Bec sucks in a quiet breath.
“Oh, honey, that’s awful.” She reaches across the table, squeezing Jordy’s hand.
Jordy flinches at the show of comfort, then looks at Bec’s hand and softens. She shakes her head as if shaking off the weight of her own words. I get the feeling she isn’t used to empathy.
“Sorry,” she says quickly. “That’s not how I meant it. My mom isn’t some evil monster or anything. I just mean that I admire the way people here stick up for each other, how you have each other’s backs.”
“That’s generous of you,” I say, holding her gaze. “But just know that we have your back too, and as long as you’re here in town, you’re safe.”
Jordy smirks. “As long as you’re not in charge of mixing my drinks.”
