Page 59 of Gumdrops and Garland

“No, you need to familiarize yourself with the recipe. Does it say shortening or butter? I can't remember. Was it a cup?”

When I glanced up, he was staring at the card but his jaw was ticking and his entire body was rigid.

“Lance? Just call out the recipe while I'm moving around to grab ingredients.I’ll remember.”

Rather than start to read, he slapped the card down on the bench and whipped his apron off on his way to the door.

“Lance!” I grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Where are you going? What is wrong with you?”

“I can't read you the damn recipe! I can’t read anything!” he yelled, the veins at his temple pulsing. Before I could say anything, the door slammed shut behind him, and he was gone.

Shaken, I stuck my head out the door and looked both ways, but he had disappeared.

What did he mean? I unplugged the waffle iron and put the ingredients away. I had to find Lance and figure out what was going on. I grabbed my phone to call Ivy. It was only eight-thirty, so she'd still be up. Maybe she could shed some light on what was going on. My finger hesitated over the call button. Would that put her in a tough spot? If she does know the truth, she'd probably feel like she was breaking confidence if she answered my questions. If she didn’t know anything, then I might ruin something for Lance, which I certainly didn't want either.

I slid my phone back in my pocket, grabbed my coat, and locked the door behind me. My only choice was to go straight to the source if I wanted answers.

I stared at the old, scarred wooden bar between sips of my drink, the anger from the bakery having turned to sadness.Why did I overreact like that?I’d asked myself that question for an hour since I left the bakery. Why didn’t I just be honest with her instead of being a jerk? It wasn’t her fault she didn’t know the truth. That was my fault. I should have told her before the situation arose, but I’d been a coward and it had come back to bite me.

Indie hadn’t shown up or called, so she was probably moving out of the house as I sat here. I shouldn’t care, but I did. I cared a lot about Indie. Hell, I loved her, and just like I knew it would, when the truth came out, she hit the road.

“You look like I feel,” a voice said as someone slid across the stool next to me.

I turned my head and was shocked to see Shep Lund sitting there. “Shep? What are you doing here?”

“Having a drink.” He ordered a whiskey sour from the bartender and then ran the little red straw around the glass rather than drink from it.

“I didn’t think you were much of a drinker.”

His chuckle was more of a grunt, but I read the emotion underneath. Frustration. “I’m not.” He lifted the drink and took a swallow, smacking his lips as he lowered it back to the bar.

“Is everything okay with Ivy and Lucy?”

“Lucy’s fine,” he said with a head nod.

“Which means Ivy is the problem.”

He lifted his glass and clinked mine. “Women,” he said, right before he finished the drink and pushed it to the edge of the bar for a refill.

This was not like Shep at all. I’d known him my entire life and I could count on one hand the number of times he’d been in a bar since he’d married Ivy. Hell, in his life. With his asthma, any change in his routine could put him in a life-threatening situation in the blink of an eye.

“I know what you mean,” I agreed, rather than ask questions that were going to make me uncomfortable regarding my boss. I pushed my empty to the front of the bar as well and waited for a refill.

“Indie?”

“Yep,” I agreed with a head nod. “Indie.”

“Her dad just died. You probably have to cut her some slack.”

“Yep,” I agreed again. “I’m aware. My mom just died too. I know where she’s at, but this has nothing to do with grief.”

“What does it have to do with then?” he asked, accepting his glass from the bartender, who also gave him a questioning look. Everyone knew everyone in Bells Pass, and while Marcus was discreet by nature of his job, when he saw someone in his bar who wasn’t a regular, or in Shep’s case, was married to the matriarch of the town, he would tread lightly while keeping a close eye on him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Respect,” he said, drinking down half of his glass.

“Be careful, Shep. I don’t want to call my friend and tell her they just hauled her husband away by ambulance.” I pointed at his glass to make my point.

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