Page 49 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“That’s what I said too. But then another time, CJ handed Jessie a glass, and their fingers touched or something. She told CJ not to let his fiancée drive home alone that night, that something awful would happen.”
“Wait. CJ is engaged?”
“Was,” Steve corrected somberly. “Both CJ and his fiancée laughed it off, and Jessie left the bar in tears.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“The roads were fine, but the bridge was icy. Addy’s car slid off the road. They pulled her and her car out of the river the next day.”
“Oh my God. That’s terrible!”
“There are at least a half-dozen other instances of things like that, but you get the idea. Jessie touches someone or something and sees things. It’s one of the reasons she wears gloves all the time.”
“Not all the time,” I said, remembering what had happened in the kitchen when Jessie tried to help me.
I told him about the weird encounter.
His expression grew even more serious. “She didn’t warn you off doing something or going somewhere, did she?”
“No. She started crying and saying she was sorry.”
“When did this happen?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“Before the staff party at the farm?”
“Yes.”
“And she hasn’t said anything since?”
I shook my head. “Maybe she’s afraid to. I told her I didn’t believe in that stuff, and then, I’m ashamed to say, I tried to steer clear of her. I don’t think I talked with her again until the hayride.”
“If Jessie thought you were in danger, she would say something,” Steve said firmly. “Maybe she didn’t see something from your future, but from your past.”
“Maybe,” I agreed doubtfully.
“Casey,” Steve said slowly, “maybe if Jessie saw what happened to you, she saweverything, even the parts you don’t remember yet.”
18
After Steve droppedme off at the cottage, I thought a lot about what he’d said. Though I wasn’t entirely convinced Jessie could help, I agreed it was worth a try. Regardless, I still needed to go back to Chicago and tie up loose ends.
I also debated on whether or not to give Angie a heads-up. In the end, I figured it was better to let her know. She’d never forgive me if she found out I’d gone home and not told her.
“Angela Molinaro,” she greeted in a businesslike tone.
“Hey, Ang. It’s Casey.”
“Why are you calling me at work?” she asked in a low tone.
“Because I’m working later tonight and I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“About what?”
“I’m coming home.”
“You’re what? Hang on.”
