Page 158 of Smoke and Fire
“Lizbeth mentioned a woman named Leslie.” I leaned back against the wall. “Is that an option?”
Bethany sighed. “Yes. I’ve been pushing back on the idea because I just haven’t been sure Leslie would want it. She’s just finalized a divorce.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. Divorce is never an easy process, even with amiability and a great attorney like Kinoshi. Anyway, I think she could use the work and I need her commitment to a task. If there’s one thing Leslie has, it’s boundaries and pragmatism. I’ll keep you updated.”
Wearily, she gathered up the paperwork while I put the ginger tea in a to-go container. With a smile, and a quick hug, she stepped back into the hot sunshine.
I stepped up to the large window as I brushed a piece of lint off the table, then looked over the hill north of here. The plume continued to chug away back there, tucked up against the mountains like it belonged. I scowled.
Was there another update from fire camp?
The fire had turned into an obsession. Would I be this absorbed if I didn’t know someone working up there? I wasn’t sure. I’d never looked at the horizon so much in my life, nor cared about analyzing weather reports. The ever-present smoke column gobbled up a lot of my thoughts. Those thoughts slid to a certain wildland firefighter a littletoomuch.
Vague news reports mentioned winds potentially pushing the fire east tonight before a gathering storm, which meant right toward Adventura.
Nothing had stirred up so far today. Only heat on a crackling dry afternoon without a lick of moisture. My lips were chapped and miserable, even though I constantly balmed them.
I slipped back behind the counter when a few cars headed for the drive-through. While I sank into the mindless task of pouring espresso and warming croissants, the door rang. A bright young woman with dreadlocks and a belly shirt walked inside with a smile. I called a greeting.
“Be with you in a sec!”
She waved and stood below the board, studying it with her head craned back. A full pack rested at her side, slung along her hips. It had been pieced together from different pieces of cut denim and old zippers. The bohemian look caught my eye. Something about her registered as vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put a finger on it.
Once the final car sped away, I stepped to the cash register with my usual smile.
“What can I get you?”
The woman’s fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag.
“Something cold,” she said. “The strawberry frap looks good. And add a cake pop, maybe? A little sweet something to celebrate.”
Her grin widened, revealing startlingly straight and white teeth. I turned to the cash register, which beeped as I entered the order.
“Sure. Are you celebrating something special today?”
She spread an arm. “Just being here!”
I almost snorted, but managed to smile instead. What could that possibly mean? Pineville was a known tourist destination in the summer, when the mountains flooded with people who wanted to get away. Tourists always had some level of enthusiasm, but it centered around boating or water skiing. Maybe she needed mountain therapy, or something?
While I grabbed a cup and reached for the frap base, I glanced back at her. Her gaze darted around the shop, then outside. Something here felt off, but I couldn’t peg it down. All kinds of people materialized, grabbed a drink, and then left. I had no real reason to suspect her except a back-of-the-neck prickling.
The Frolicking Moose had something of a violent history. I would not be one of the barista’s with a gun pulled on her.
Not happening.
“Are you from around here?” I asked.
“No.” She pulled the bag off her left shoulder and set it on a nearby table. “Just stopped by because I heard this was a happening place.”
“It’s fun.”
“Are you from here?”
The frap slipped easily into the clear cup after I took it off the blender. I tacked the lid on and set it on the counter for her to grab, a straw already sticking out.
