Page 17 of The Fall Back Plan
“That’s going to happen a lot when you both work on Maple,” he says. “What’d he do to you this time?”
“He has a kid.”
Ry looks surprised. “One, I did not know that. But two, why would that make you mad?”
“It’s his niece. He’s her guardian. And it makes him several percent less heinous.”
He smiles. “High school was a long time ago. You’ve changed. Maybe he has too.”
I consider Brooklyn’s posture and attitude, then Lucas’s barely disguised exasperation. It reminded me a lot of the few times he’d try to take his homework seriously before frustration crept into his face and then he did or said something rude. He had that same frustrated look today, although he’d done a good job of not dumping it on his niece.
“Maybe in some ways,” I concede, but I’m still mulling that look of frustration. “But not so much in others.”
Tina rounds the corner from employee parking. “I was promised loud machines if I came down early.”
Ry grins. “Pressure washer is yours. We’ll have to run it from the outside faucet straight through the bar, but then you can let it rip.”
Tina rubs her hands. “Yesss. I used to work for my dad painting houses in the summer, and the pressure wash is the best part. So zen.”
I shake my head, smiling now. Leave it to Tina to find the racket of a pressure washer soothing. Ry had recommended her for the server job. They were a year behind me in high school, so I hadn’t known her well then, but his people instincts are good, and I’d liked her the minute I met her.
They go into the bar to set up the hose, and I glance back down the street toward the sheriff’s building, thinking again about Brooklyn. Lucas is so much farther out of his depth than he realizes. I don’t want to do him any favors, but this isn’t about him. It’s about Brooklyn.
I sigh and head back down the sidewalk, stepping into the station five minutes later.
“May I help you?” the woman at the reception desk asks. She’s about twenty years older than me and has the soft lines of a mom who doesn’t get much time for the gym. She’s wearing very little makeup, and her eyes are watchful, but the faint lines near her mouth suggest she probably smiles a lot.
“Can you tell Lucas Cole that Jolie is here to see him?”
“May I ask what this is regarding?”
His absolute cluelessness about his niece. But I’m not going to put Brooklyn’s business out there for everyone. “The vandalism to my bar this morning.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re the new owner?”
I nod.
She extends her hand for a shake. “Welcome to Harvest Hollow. I’m Becky Cuthbert. I’m sorry that happened. I promise, it’s largely a safe city. The sheriff will make sure no one bugs you again.”
“It’s not his fault,” I say. “And I grew up in Harvest Hollow. I know what it’s like.” The goodandthe bad. But she’s right; crime here has always been pretty low.
“Hang tight and I’ll let him know you’re here.” She picks up the handset for her phone and presses a button, says, “Jolie McGraw is asking to see you.” She nods and hangs up, pressing something else that makes the heavy steel door to her left click open. “Come on back.”
I shake my head. “I’d like to speak to him outside if that’s all right. It’ll only be a minute.”
She nods and relays the message via phone again. “He’ll be right out.”
“Thanks.” I step outside to wait. Becky doesn’t look like she misses much, and I’d rather not be under her scrutiny. The last couple of days or so, I’ve been having this itchy feeling, like my skin doesn’t fit right and I have to hitch it back into place.
I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel what I feel.
The station door opens and Lucas walks out. “Hey, Jolie. Did I forget something?”
Notdidyouforget something. It’s hard to be annoyed with a guy who leads from a place of “maybe I’m wrong” while still somehow projecting complete competence.
“No, but I thought I should tell you I think I know what’s behind your niece’s headaches.”
His eyes flare in surprise. “Okay. Shoot.”
