by Sienna Ciles
A strange, creepy feeling trickled down the back of my neck. It’d never happened before.
I placed yet another burger, steaming hot beside crispy French fries, on the counter and dinged the bell. The feeling slammed into me for the umpteenth time and this time, I took a minute to scan the diner before I returned to the grill – it’d been two hours and the rush was finally petering off.
The customers were all concerned with their food or friends. They chatted and laughed, and the happy atmosphere made the strange hair-standing-on-end sensation even weirder.
Movement caught the corner of my eye, and I turned my head, finally spotted the source of discomfort.
A blonde woman sat in one of the corner booths, a glass of water in front of her, beside a half-eaten plate of pancakes. She glared at me, outright hatred pouring from her in waves. I blinked and resisted the urge to check if there was someone behind me.
I was alone in the kitchen and there wasn’t a chance that hatred was meant for anyone other than me. But why?
I popped out of view again and continued with the next order – waffles with extra syrup and a few strips of bacon on the side. I mulled over the negative vibes from the woman in the corner as I whipped it up.
Finally, I moved back to the kitchen counter, dinged the bell, and waited for Cassie to roll up to the window. The blond hadn’t shifted from her spot in the corner.
Cassie grabbed the plate and gave me a quick smile. “It’s slowing down, at least.”
“Sure is,” I said. “Cas, who’s that woman in the corner? The one staring at me like I’m the Hunchback of Notre Dame?”
“Oh, that’s Faith,” Cassidy whispered. “Biggest bitch and gossip in town, excuse my French. Listen, I’ll chat to you in a sec, let me just deliver these.” She rushed off to the far end of the restaurant, and Faith rose from her hate-booth and sauntered toward the counter.
My heart leaped into my throat and beat away there, for reasons unknown. I wasn’t a fan of confrontation, sure, but this woman shouldn’t have scared me. I’d been through worse than a little abject disdain. Hadn’t I?
She halted in front of the counter and nodded.
I returned it.
Cue the Spaghetti Western music. I readjusted my hat on my head. I didn’t have any current orders but that could change.
“So, you’re her,” Faith said.
I wrinkled my brow at her. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re the one who spent the night at Joshua’s place. Don’t lie. I know all about it. The whole town does.”
This had to be a joke. No, it was too crazy to be true. News had spread that fast? It was barely past 2 p.m. in the afternoon and everyone in Hope Creek already knew I’d spent the night at Joshua’s place.
“You might think that he likes you,” Faith said, “but he doesn’t. You’re just a warm body to keep between the sheets at night, mark my words.”
“I wasn’t between his sheets,” I replied, stiffly.
“Right, of course. Ha, how dumb do you think I am? I know your type. You’re looking for a handout, a way to reach the top rung because you know you’ll never reach it yourself. Pathetic,” she said, and flicked her hair. She lifted a Gucci purse and reached inside it, then drew out an iPhone and aimed it at me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked. Was this even real?
“I’m taking a picture of Joshua’s new slut,” she replied and flashed me a tight smile. “Relax, honey, it’s the only fame you’ll ever get.”
Cassie appeared in front of the window and held out her hand, blocking Faith’s view of me. “Stop that right now. Have you lost your mind, Faith? This is a restaurant. People are trying to enjoy their meals and our chef is trying to cook.”
“Pfft,” Faith said, “she shouldn’t. She’s terrible at it. My pancakes were dry and disgusting. They were gray.”
“Oh? That must be why you ate them all,” Cassidy replied, and bobbed her head toward the empty plate on Faith’s evacuated table.
“I demand a refund.”
“That’s crap,” I said. I’d finally found my voice after the shock had worn off. “There was nothing wrong with those pancakes.”
“Is it a scene you’re looking for?” Faith squared her shoulders, finally putting that cell phone back in her purse. “Because I can give you a scene.”
I resisted the urge to snatch the bell off the counter and lob it at her. Where the hell did she get off, treating people like this? What was she, the Queen of Hope Creek? “You’re in serious need of an attitude readjustment,” I said.
Faith puffed out her cheeks.
“It’s fine,” Cassidy said, palm still out. “It’s fine. The meal is on the house.”
“What?!” I tilted back out of sheer disbelief, and almost fell.
“It’s fine,” Cassie repeated. “On the house. Don’t worry about it.”
Faith pouted, triumph washing from her this time, threatening to drown us all. “That’s right. And if you serve me those disgusting gray pancakes again I’ll have to speak to Lily about it and she’ll have you fired.” Faith slung her bag over her shoulder, gave those blond locks one final flip, then marched from the diner.
Heads turned to watch the mistress’ exit, and conversation lulled for a few seconds. The door slammed and the noise resumed at the usual busy-restaurant decibel level.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“I’ll explain later,” Cassie said. “After the shift, you can come back to my place and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“I –”
“Oh, come on, this is the fifteenth time I’ve asked you. I’m starting to think you don’t like me. Or you’re allergic to beer. Is it either of those things?”
“No, but –”
“Then it’s settled. After our shift.” Cassie hurried off to check on her tables, and I returned to the grill, working through everything that’d just happened. The hours passed and finally, it was time for the end of my shift.
I’d have killed to rush home to my tiny apartment above the butcher’s place and have a shower and a quick change but Cassidy hadn’t forgotten about our ‘appointment’ to gossip. She barely waited for me to change back into my dress and boots, then dragged me down the street in the fading light.
Five minutes later, we entered a tiny front yard, dotted with plastic toys and a multi-colored tricycle. The grass was patchy, and the house at the end of the short stone path was missing a few shutters and roof tiles.
“This is me,” Cassidy said, clambering up the steps. She opened the door and entered. “Mom, I’m home.”
“Oh, good,” a voice called back. An elderly woman with gray hair and Cassidy’s freckles appeared at the end of the short hall, holding the most adorable child I’d ever laid eyes on. She was Cassidy Junior, truly. Red pigtails and a smattering of freckles across her nose. She wore dirty dungarees, one clip hanging loose.
“Mommy!” She wriggled out of the old woman’s grip and rushed at Cassidy.
“Hey, baby. I missed you so much.” Cassie dropped to her knees in the hall and embraced her daughter.
Guilt rattled through my chest. I’d had absolutely no idea Cassie had a child.
The girl looked up at me with inquisitive green eyes. “Hello.” She had to be four or five years old, pudgy, cute, and quite short. “Who are you?”
“I’m Eve,” I said, and put out my hand. “And who are you?”
“I’m Charlie,” she said. “My whole name is Charlotte but I don’t like it. It’s stupid. I like Charlie.”
“I think both names are great.” We shook hands, her small one dwarfed in mine, and smiled at each other.
“I just finished making dinner for us,” Cassidy’s mom said, then smiled at me, too. “Would you like something to eat.”
“I don’t want to impose, Mrs. – uh?”
“Waterson,” Cassie said. “And you can call my mom, Ma, if you want. That’s what she goes by.”
“You’re
not imposing, dear,” Ma said. “I’ll bring us all some iced tea to the back porch. You girls go on out. Charlie, you come help me set the table.”
“Okay.” Charlie gave her mother one last wet smooch on the nose, then hurried off after her grandmother. “Can I put the knives out, too?”
“They’re too sharp for you –” The conversation petered off as the two disappeared.
An awkward silence and then Cassidy shut the front door and walked me through to the back. The lawn was equally covered in toys, and the back fence looked haggard.
“I had no idea,” I said, and sat down.
“What?” Cassie asked. “That I’m a single mother? Why would you know? You haven’t exactly offered up any information of your own, and I didn’t want to weigh you down with my life story.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should’ve made more of an effort to know you.”
“Don’t be silly, Eve, you’re under no obligation to befriend me. I just thought you’d like to come back to the house for some gossip.”
I couldn’t rid myself of that sense of shame, though. I’d only avoided Cassie because I’d thought it’d keep things less complicated when I left. “Okay,” I said.
“I don’t want your pity,” Cassidy said, “if that’s what that look means.”
I quickly blanked out my expression. “No, I just was surprised. I thought you lived alone.”
“Anyways.” Cassidy grinned at me. “Let’s talk about Faith. That’s why I dragged you over here. I figured I owed you an explanation for why I let her get away with that gray pancakes line.”
“That did make my blood boil.” I hadn’t cooked a gray pancake in my life. Not even as a teenager.
“She’s a Stone, you see. Her father is the most influential man in Texas, or one of them. He’s super wealthy and she is by extension.”
“Kind of like the Texas version of Paris Hilton?” I asked.
“Yeah, but more annoying. And she’s got a massive crush on Joshua. Like gargantuan.”
“But they’ve never –” I cut off. What did I care who he’d slept with?
“No, never. I think she tried to get him into bed but failed. I’m not clear on what happened. Apparently, the rumor mill doesn’t turn as fast when she’s at the center of the rumor. Probably because she’s the one who turns it herself.” Cassie shrugged. “My point is that Faith always gets what she wants, whether it’s free pancakes or designer shoes. If she doesn’t get what she wants, she runs to daddy and throws a temper tantrum.”
“What a charmer,” I said. That was the attitude I’d have expected from a New York socialite – I hadn’t thought I’d run into it here.
“You saw her in action. She thinks she’s above everyone else, laws included.” Cassie sighed.
Charlie and Ma burst onto the back porch, carrying a tray with glasses and a pitcher. The conversation dissolved but thoughts of Faith and Joshua swirled through my mind. I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t want the pressure. I wanted to remain invisible while I figured out who I was inside.
And now, a chance run-in with a man on the side of a dirt road had led to this. Complications.
Chapter 6
Joshua
This should’ve made me happy. That was what it was supposed to be like for other people when they visited their parents. Normal, happy families didn’t dread seeing each other.
I didn’t technically dread seeing my mother but my father, damn, that was another story entirely. That was straight out of hell, fear and shame, and most of it was probably self-inflicted.
“They’re your parents,” I muttered, and turned onto the long dirt road that led up to the farmhouse I’d bought them two years ago, when I’d first sold my idea. “They’re your parents.” Repeating it didn’t help.
I didn’t want to see my dad’s disappointment in me. He still thought I could be more than what I was. He couldn’t believe I’d given up the chance to live the high life and make something real of myself out in New York.
He was the opposite to all those country parents who just wanted their kids to stay on the farm and carry on the work of their friggin’ ancestors.
I slowed my breathing, calmed myself, then parked the truck in front of their wooden stairs. The front door was ajar, and the scent of baking blueberry pie drifted out from within and through my open window.
Mom was at it again, making her favorites and force feeding them to all and sundry. Though, it couldn’t be called force when the pies were so damn delicious no one could get enough of them.
I got out of the truck and tried leaving my apprehension behind. Didn’t work. Grown ass thirty-year-old man afraid of his parents. “Mom?” I yelled out.
“In the kitchen, honey,” she called back.
I shrugged, tucked the keys in my pocket, then jogged up the stairs and down the hall. The place my parents had chosen was far smaller than my ‘hotel’ as Eve had called it. Modest, homely, and probably all I needed.
I’d gone out on a limb building my place on the land my father had once owned.
“Joshua?”
I flinched – I’d hovered just outside the door for a good minute – then entered the kitchen. “Hey,” I said, and swept over to my mom’s side. I drew her into a hug and kissed the top of her gray-haired head.
She was elegant even in an apron decorated with smiling muffins and donuts. “There you are, boy,” she said, and patted my back. “I thought you’d fallen through the looking glass.”
“I saw Alice on the other side,” I said. “She told me you forgot to add lemon juice to your blueberry mix.”
“She’s a dirty little liar,” Mom replied, then bent and opened the oven door. “Ah, it’s almost done.”
“And what’s this one for?” I asked, gesturing to the pie already cooling on the window sill. The scent of it was stronger in here and absolutely irresistible.
“For you, of course. You usually visit on a Monday, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Then you know that pie is for you,” Mom replied. “Give me a minute and I’ll whip up some cream, then make us a pot of coffee.”
“I’ll handle the coffee.” I walked to the machine and set about making it, back of my neck prickling already. If we had coffee and blueberry pie, Dad would be in on it, too. No way would my mother allow us to feast without him. Meal time was family time in the Jackson house.
Mom hummed under her breath and busied herself with the oven. A shrill alarm went off, and she muttered something, then yanked the door open again and removed the pie.
“How have you been?” I asked. We did Monday night visits and frequent phone calls but if Mom ever had something to complain about, she kept it to herself. She’d always been a trooper.
“Same old, same old, dear. I don’t want for anything, thanks to you.”
“Well, if you need anything, remember to let me know. Anything at all,” I said. It was overcompensation but I didn’t care how blatantly it came across. I couldn’t help worrying about my parents, even though they gave me fucking hives from the sheer pressure of it all.
Neither of them were billionaires but they were perfect. They’d lived perfectly average lives and been popular with everyone in Hope Creek. Dad had been a respected farmer. All my life, I’d dreamed of being like them. Of impressing them with my own prowess as a farmer and husband.
Except neither of those things had come to pass, and the harder I tried, the less impressed my father seemed. My mother, well, she put a different type of pressure on me.
“So?” she asked, right on cue.
“Mom,” I said because I didn’t have to ask what she meant. We’d had this conversation countless times already, ever since I’d returned to Hope Creek. “Please.”
Madge Jackson let out an exaggerated sigh and clinked three plates onto the table, along with three little forks. “I know I keep asking, honey, but it’s not like you’re getting any younger. You’re thirty already. Trust me, I know wh
at it’s like to have a baby at your age, and it’s not easy. I was thirty-two when I gave birth to you, and your father was nearly forty. Far too old.”
“I know,” I said. The words were almost exactly the same each time she delivered this speech.
“And there’s no end to the eligible women who’d love to go out on a date with you in this town. I know Hope Creek isn’t exactly brimming with supermodels but you can’t have unreasonable standards.”
“I know.”
“I heard that Nancy’s daughter is interested in you. And Mrs. Beaumont’s as well. You know how happy it would make her if you went out on a date with her granddaughter.”
“I know.” Acknowledgement always smoothed this process.
Mom let out another beleaguered sigh. “I just don’t want you to regret not settling down. And I’d love to have a few grandkids at the table for Christmas.”
“Mom, it’s July! Do you really expect me to have met and impregnated a –”
“Impregnated! There’s no need to be blunt.”
“I’m serious. I’d have had to have met her months ago for that to work out and… what? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, it’s just – nothing.”
“Mom?”
“Well, I got a call from Grace this morning.”
Oh, god, help me. Grace was another town gossip.
“And she mentioned that you had a lovely lady over at your mansion last night. I thought perhaps she was your girlfriend and you’d hidden it from us because you were worried we’d –”
“Make us both interminably uncomfortable?”
Mom’s mouth flapped open and closed.
“Firstly, my ranch house is not a mansion –”
“Semantics.”
“And secondly, Eve isn’t my girlfriend. She just stayed over because it was late and she drove me to Heather’s Forge because my car broke down.”
“You broke down?” My father’s voice rang from the kitchen doorway and I sucked in a breath.
Fuck it. Why did he make me so damn nervous? He was my father, for god’s sake.
I turned and gave him a smile, stuck out my hand. We hadn’t hugged in my memory. “Afternoon, Dad.”