Page 73 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
He smiled at that. “That’s how your grandfather started, you know. Your dad would be so proud of you, Casey.”
His words meant more than he knew.
“Thanks. What about you? When are you heading back?”
“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “Kleiner is great. The company has been good to me, but I miss being hands-on. Working with the numbers. Getting involved in the day-to-day business. Feeling like I accomplished something more than completing paperwork and performance reviews at the end of the day. Knowing my customers out of the office as well as in.”
“Hmm,” I hummed. “I might have a lead on something. A start-up in a small town. It’s just an idea at this point, but I bet someone with your knowledge and experience could make it happen.”
He grinned, hearing what I wasn’t saying outright. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
“You do that.”
26
I steppedout of the hospital into the warm autumn sunshine, feeling better than when I had gone in. Things were much clearer now.
My next stop was Jessie’s.
“Come on in,” she said in greeting. “I thought I might be seeing you today.”
“Another vision?” I asked.
“Not exactly. Steve stopped by earlier to bring me those,” she answered, pointing to a basket of delectable goodies from the farm. “He suggested I might be seeing you sometime today. Do you have time for tea before you go?”
I didn’t ask her how she knew I was leaving. If Steve had told her I would be stopping by, he had probably told her that too.
“Only if you sit down and let me get it.”
She looked like she was about to protest, but then she nodded and sat down at the small kitchen table. Her movements were slow and deliberate. The dark circles under her eyes were fading from a purplish black to a sickly yellowish green. It was odd, seeing splashes of color on her alabaster skin.
I felt something against my legs and looked down. A massive black cat was rubbing against my calves. It was a hefty thing.
“Well, hello there,” I said.
“Sebastian likes you,” Jessie commented, looking at me strangely.
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m … intrigued,” she countered mysteriously.
I waited for her to say more. She didn’t.
She’d already had a kettle simmering on the stove and two mugs and a teapot prepped—because of course she did. All I had to do was pour and carry everything over to the table.
“So …” I said while the tea steeped. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
She looked at me with those silvery eyes. “For what?”
“For what happened. If I hadn’t—”
“Stop,” she commanded. “Things happened exactly the way they were supposed to.”
“How can you say that? If I hadn’t come here, if I hadn’t told Angie about you, if I had believed you—”
“If, if, if,” she said impatiently, waving her hand. “If your father had worn a condom, you wouldn’t be here at all. Should we blame him too?”
I gaped at her.
