Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
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“Why in the ever loving hell did I let you talk me into karaoke night?” I winced as Darren Delaney from the fish market mangled another note of “Sweet Caroline.” The entire bar seemed to collectively cringe.
“It brings in business,” Monty insisted, though his usual unflappable confidence wavered a bit. “Look at table six. They ordered three rounds just to get through Bob’s set.”
Darren’s predecessor on stage had committed crimes against music I couldn’t even talk about.
“And how many customers have we lost permanently?” I tried not to look directly at the makeshift stage area.
“Darling, you wound me. This was a stroke of genius.” Monty flinched as Darren’s voice went sharp enough to kill on a particularly ambitious high note. I fought the urge to check the glass wall dividing the dining room from the brewing tanks for cracks. “Though perhaps we should institute some basic qualifying rounds.”
I shot him a look. “ Now you’re thinking about quality control?”
“Well...” He gestured expansively with his free hand. “The liquid courage aspect is working beautifully. Just look at all these drink orders. But I may have underestimated the psychological trauma inflicted by prolonged exposure to tone-deaf amateur performers.”
“You think?”
“At least the tips are good?” Monty offered weakly. “People seem to feel generous when they’re drinking to dull the pain.”
I had to laugh at that, even as I shook my head. “Next time you have a brilliant business idea, run it by me more than twenty-four hours in advance?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He grinned, but quickly sobered as Darren launched into an encore. “Though perhaps we should limit performers to one song each.”
“Make that a hard rule, and I might forgive you for this nightmare.” I grabbed two more beers for a desperate-looking couple at the end of the bar. “Eventually.”
“Lord have mercy, my hearing aid’s about to commit suicide.” Milt cranked down the volume on his device, his weathered face pinched with pain.
“For once, you’re the lucky one.” Duck took a long pull of his beer. “The rest of us have to suffer through this with full audio.”
“What was that?” Milt cupped his ear.
“He said you’re lucky to be deaf!” Wally shouted, making me wince.
Pop leaned forward on his barstool. “Now Bree-girl, you know I support all your business decisions, but this…”
“Don’t look at me.” I held up my hands. “This was all Montgomery’s doing.”
“Ah, the fancy brewmaster strikes again.” Cliff nodded sagely. “Remember when he wanted to do that wine and painting night?”
“That actually worked out fine,” I defended.
Duck cackled. “Only ’cause you banned Wally after he painted something that looked like copulating possums instead of a sunset.”
“It was abstract!” Wally protested.
“It was obscene,” Pop countered. “Nearly gave Mrs. Henderson a heart attack.”
“What about Mrs. Henderson?” Milt asked.
“Never mind!” they all chorused.
Monty swept by with fresh pretzels. “I hear you gentlemen critiquing my entertainment choices.”
“Entertainment’s a strong word for this torture,” Duck muttered.
Monty sniffed primly. “I prefer to think of it as community building through shared adversity.”
The Gray Beards exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.
“Boy, you could sell ice to an Eskimo.” Pop wiped his eyes. “But maybe next time stick to trivia night?”
“Or bingo,” Cliff suggested.
“What was that about my lumbago?” Milt asked.
I bit back a smile as I moved down the bar, leaving them to their usual bickering. At least they were having fun, even if it was at Monty’s expense.
Half a dozen songs later, I was reasonably sure I was bleeding from the ears. Someone attempted to murder ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and the sound system squealed with feedback. I ducked behind the bar, as if that would somehow protect me from the assault to my senses. “Dear God, make it stop.”
“Hey, Bree.”
I shot to my feet so fast, I almost cracked my head on the counter.
Ford stood on the other side. I could only blame the crimes being perpetrated by microphone for not noticing he’d come in. My mouth dried up. This wasn’t how we did things. For ten years, we’d perfected the art of careful avoidance, coordinating our movements through mutual friends to ensure we never had to interact. Those were the unwritten rules. But I supposed I blew those all to hell when I got involved with his kid.
As my heart hammered against my ribs, I fell back on my role as bartender. “What can I get you?”
“Just a beer. Dealer’s choice. I’ve heard good things.”
Yeah, he would only have heard because I’d all but banned him from this place. If I felt a little pinch about that behind my breastbone, I ignored it as I pulled him a pint of Island Time. He didn’t grab the open stool nearby.
When I slid the glass across the bar, his fingers curled around it. “Can you get away for a bit? Just back to your office for a conversation. It’s about Peyton.”
Brain trauma from karaoke night had me nodding without hesitation, even though being alone with him was the last thing I wanted. “Monty, Sarah, I’m taking ten. My ears are ringing.”
Ford followed me down the bar and into the hall. The moment he stepped into my office, I shut the door and breathed a sigh.
“You okay there?”
“I don’t know. Do I have brains leaking out my ears? Because I’m pretty sure they’ve been liquified.”
With a serious expression, he leaned in to check both sides of my head. “All clear. I take it the current performance is the rule rather than the exception?”
“I had no idea we had so many tone deaf people on the island. Never again. I don’t care how much it gooses alcohol sales. Never again.” Scrubbing both hands over my face, I did my best to focus on Ford. Then I immediately wished I hadn’t because I was all too aware of my closet-sized office with his 6’ 3” muscled frame taking up more than its fair share.
“Thanks for meeting with me.”
Right. As if we’d set up something formal. Fine, if that was how he wanted to play it, I’d roll with it. “What’s going on? Is Peyton okay? Is she getting hassled at school?”
“Not so far as I know. She’s made a couple of friends, I think. At least some girls who invited her to sit with them at lunch, so that’s a win. No, this is about something else.” He scrubbed a hand down his own face, and I heard the rasp of his skin against the stubble darkening his jaw. My brain immediately remembered the feel of it beneath my own palms.
Focus .
“Carson called us in to the police station today.”
That immediately wiped any memories of the past out of my brain. “What? Why?”
“There were two FBI agents waiting to talk to us. To her.”
I blinked. Whatever I’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. “FBI? What would they want with a child?”
“That’s a good damned question. One they didn’t answer. They asked her a lot of questions about Casey’s work. They didn’t clarify, but reading between the lines, it sounded like they might be investigating whoever she worked for. I don’t know if they were trying to determine the extent of Casey’s involvement or what.”
“What did Peyton say?”
“She didn’t know anything. Said Casey had a hard line between work and home. She didn’t know any of her mom’s coworkers, and Casey didn’t talk about work. I don’t know what they thought Peyton might know that made them come all the way out here.”
That wasn’t the only thing that struck me as odd. “Why now? Her mom died three months ago, right? They’d have had ample opportunity to ask all these questions of Peyton then.”
“I asked her after if she had any idea what all this was about, and she said no.”
“Do you believe her? Or do you think she’s hiding something?”
Ford spread his hands and leaned back against my desk. “I don’t know. I told her I did. That I’m on her side. I have no reason not to be. But I’m not gonna lie, Bree. I’m struggling here. I have no idea how to handle all this. I want to do right by her.”
This man. He wanted so desperately to do the right thing, which was so much more than my own dad had ever done. Another few bricks in the wall I’d built between us crumbled, because I couldn’t keep lying to myself that he was the callous guy I’d made him out to be in my head.
I found myself leaning back against the desk beside him, close enough that I felt the warmth of his thigh alongside mine. “I don’t think there’s a chapter in Parenting 101 about how to handle it when federal agents question your middle schooler.” I considered the situation. “If they’re coming to ask her about all of this now, three months out from Casey’s death, that sounds like they’re looking for something they think Casey might have had. Information maybe?”
“Seems like coming out and asking directly would’ve made a lot more sense.”
“Do you think Casey was involved in something shady?” I wasn’t judging. My own mom had been a drug addict. She’d done things to support her habit that hadn’t been legal.
“I have no idea. I’d have said no, but the truth is we spent two weeks together a million years ago. I really didn’t know her. She was on her own with a baby to support. I don’t know what she might have done to survive.”
I could feel his grief over that, could see how he was struggling with the reality of all those lost years.
I laid a hand on his arm. “Stop it. Stop beating yourself up over all the things you didn’t do the past fourteen years. You didn’t know. You can’t blame yourself for not doing things when you didn’t know . She chose not to tell you she was pregnant. We may never know the why of that. And that sucks. I know that why is gonna gnaw at you. But you’re doing all the things now. That’s the only thing anyone can expect of you. Even you.”
Ford’s gaze shifted from where my hand still rested on his arm to meet mine. There was an openness and question there that I didn’t know what to do with.
“Bree—”
I realized the bar had gone eerily silent. I held up my hand. “Wait. Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Exactly.” I shoved away from the desk and threw open the door, marching back out into the bar, Ford on my heels.
I emerged from the hallway to find the karaoke machine dark and silent. The crowd huddled in small groups, speaking in hushed tones that reminded me of funeral parlors. Even Darren had abandoned his spot on stage.
My skin prickled. The shift in atmosphere was jarring after the earlier cacophony.
I stepped behind the bar where Monty stood frozen, his face drained of color. Gripping him by the arms, I turned him to face me. “What’s going on?”
My brewmaster swallowed hard. “We just got the news. Someone found a body on the beach.”