Chapter 17
Hugo
I would’ve loved to stay in bed with Bess, who is still out like a light, but I reluctantly relinquished my spot to Ragnar, who’d been whining at the door ever since I kicked him out last night.
After a quick shower in Carson’s bathroom—one I should remind him to clean when he gets back from Seattle, it’s disgusting—I sneak out the front door, where Roy Battaglia is already waiting for me. He’s got a cardboard tray with carryout coffees and a brown paper bag from the diner.
I’d messaged him before my shower to see if he could swing by the Bread I’ll have to do a bit of drilling.”
Roy is here to install my new security system.
I may be law enforcement, but since one of our own—a Silence native I knew and worked with—attacked my son and turned out to be a killer we were looking for, my sense of security took a good hit.
Last night, after discovering we might have elements of a violent gang right here in Silence posing a serious threat to Bess, the decision to get a decent system installed was easy.
I head back inside with our breakfast, leaving Roy to his work. Ragnar, who must’ve come down to see where I went, immediately picks up on the paper bag in my hand and circles my legs as I try to head up the stairs.
“Back off, buddy. I’ve got a piece of bacon with your name on it in here, but you’ve gotta be patient.”
As if a five-month-old, food-motivated puppy the size of a bear cub understands the concept of patience.
“Who was at the door?” Bess asks when I walk in.
She’s boosted herself up on an elbow and is squinting one eye at me from under her sleep-tousled hair. A red sleep crease runs down the cheek she had pressed into her pillow earlier. She looks fucking amazing in my bed.
I’d love to keep her here, just like this, but I know before long both our phones will start ringing once Savvy gets to the office and finds out about last night. I really want to make sure I get a proper meal into Bess before the chaos erupts.
“Roy Battaglia. His guys kept an eye out last night, and he’s installing a security system here today.”
Her second eye snaps open and her lips form a thin line, showing me she’s not thrilled about that.
“Before you say anything,” I quickly add. “I’ve been thinking about having one installed since Carson was attacked last year, I just never got around to it. This is a perfect opportunity.”
It’s easy to see she’s not convinced, but at least she’s letting it go. Not that it was negotiable anyway.
“What’s in the bag?”
She pulls herself up and tucks a pillow between her back and the headboard.
“Bread and Butter breakfast bowls with a side of bacon to share with the pooch.”
I set the bag and the tray with coffees down on the nightstand and sit on the edge of the bed beside her, leaning in to kiss those perfectly plump lips.
“Morning. Did you sleep okay?”
Her mouth pulls into a little smile, and I like the faint blush suddenly putting color in her cheeks. I’ll bet she’s remembering what came before we both crashed hard.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Good.”
I hold her eyes a bit longer, enjoying the view and the connection, when Ragnar announces the end of his patience with a woeful howl.
“All right, boy. I promised.”
I hand Bess her coffee before unpacking the food.
“Sit,” I order the dog, who, to my surprise, immediately drops down on his haunches.
“Good boy.”
I toss him a piece of bacon he snatches right out of the air.
“You’re going to spoil my dog.”
“Nah.” I hand her one of the bowls and the bamboo cutlery it came with. “It’s called training. He gets nothing for free.”
To demonstrate, I repeat my earlier command and wait for the dog’s compliance before tossing him another piece.
“You lucked out,” I tell her as I dig into my own breakfast. “He likes his food enough to do just about anything to get it. He’s a pretty smart dog, which means he’s going to enjoy you training him, but the downside is he’ll probably bore easily as well.
You’ve already experienced the outcome of that. ”
“Yes. One I don’t care to repeat,” she points out.
If I’m honest, I enjoy having the dog around. But not as much as I enjoy having his owner around. Both of them can stay as long as they’d like.
The whining of a drill firing up outside is a sobering reminder of why Bess is here in the first place.
Then my phone rings.
Bess
I’m surprised to see Nate’s truck parked in front of Strange Brew, and the front door of my coffee shop wide open.
I spoke to Savvy earlier and she never mentioned anything about Nate coming. Mind you, she had other things on her mind, like yelling at me for not calling her immediately after Ken showed his face. She’d already given Hugo the same treatment.
Savvy isn’t a yeller; she doesn’t usually get fired up to the point she’s almost in tears, but she did this morning. My guess is it’s probably pregnancy hormones, although that wouldn’t explain my own wobbly emotions.
I glance over to catch Hugo’s profile. He’s noticing the truck and the door as well.
“Did you know he was going to be here?”
“No idea,” he rumbles, as he pulls into a spot two away from where Nate’s truck is parked.
Hugo is already not too happy being here.
I insisted on coming, pushing forward with my plans to get the place as ready as I can for when the cleaners show up on Monday.
He would’ve rather I’d stayed holed up at his place, hiding out until all of this blows over, but I have a business to run.
At least, I hope I still have one when all is said and done.
I didn’t tell him yet.
I intended to, but between Savvy calling, Roy needing access to the electrical panel, and me needing to get ready so I wouldn’t keep Emmet and Lola waiting at the coffee shop, there wasn’t enough time.
“Stay put,” he orders moodily as he starts getting out of the truck. “I’ll get you out.”
I’d love to remind him how I feel about being ordered around, but the man is trying to protect me, so rather than poking the already grumpy bear, I sit and wait for him to do his thing.
Which basically is scanning up and down the street before opening my door.
Then he tucks me under his arm and rushes me inside Strange Brew.
Nate and Emmet, decked out in protective gear, come walking out of the kitchen, carrying a blackened piece of drywall between them when we enter.
“What is happening?”
It’s Nate who answers me, pulling down his mask to flash an understated grin.
“Heard the insurance adjuster already went through and you’ve got cleaners coming in Monday. Might as well get all the dirty work done all at once, so we’re getting a head start on your kitchen,” he explains as they walk out of the front door and toss the drywall in the back of his truck.
I’m not sure what to say, so when Nate walks back in, I stick to a simple, “Thank you.”
“Pure self-interest,” he replies in passing. “Savvy’s been a bear without your pastries to soothe her sweet tooth.”
“People wanna help, Twinkie,” Hugo states beside me. “Let it happen.”
Touched by the support of my friends and happy Hugo appears to have gotten over his snit, I briefly lean my weight into him.
Then I shrug off my coat and drop my purse on the nearest chair, grab a face mask from the box, and go to work. Hugo is right behind me.
Phil, Savvy’s stepmom, shows up around midday, lugging in two large boxes from Pie Central and a twelve-pack of water.
She also produces a stack of folded papers from her large leather tote she hands to me.
“I wasn’t sure which one you’d want.”
Confused, I unfold the papers to find a Viking brochure she must’ve printed off the website. My old range was a Viking, and it’s one of the top commercial brands out there. The only reason I’d been able to afford mine was because I bought it secondhand. No way I’ll be able to afford a new one.
“I’ll probably be looking for pre-used,” I explain. “It all depends on what the insurance company values my old one at.”
“Fuck insurance,” Phil states bluntly. “They’re gonna drag their asses and try to cut corners and find ways to shortchange you.
Believe me, I’ve had to deal with them before.
” She shakes her gray curls. “No, this isn’t about insurance money.
I have a proposal for you. More of a favor than a proposal, actually. It involves your walls.”
“My walls?”
She nods eagerly, her smile wide.
“I want to rent them.”
I’m even more baffled now than I was before.
“For chrissake, Phil,” Nate mutters around the half slice of pizza he shoved in his mouth. “Quit talking in riddles. The woman is not a mind reader.”
“Right. Well, I don’t know if I mentioned it, but I’ve been trying my hand at painting. Just dabbling, really.”
“Nonsense,” Nate interrupts again. “Her paintings are fantastic and would probably sell for a pretty penny.”
“Yes, well…” Phil stammers, clearly a bit embarrassed by the praise.
“I wasn’t going to do anything with them, but lately I’ve been toying with the idea of starting a community food bank, or a community emergency fund, or even both.
Something by the people of Silence, for the people of Silence.
Any money I make from the sale of my paintings would go toward setting up a program like that, and others could join me if they wanted to.
Selling their crafts or art, or maybe donating goods or services.
But I thought, since Strange Brew is pretty much the hub of the town, perhaps I could rent some wall space in your coffee shop to peddle my wares, so to speak.
The new range could be first and last month’s rent? ”
My excitement started growing the moment she made mention of a food bank, because I know there is an increasing number of people here in Silence whose food security is not what it should be.
For all the common reasons: automation culling the workforce, a rising cost of living against lagging wages, a growing graying population on fixed incomes.
The effects are hitting Silence just like anywhere else.
I’d love to be part of an initiative like that. It’s right up my alley. Plus, free artwork on my walls, turning Strange Brew into a gallery on top of a coffee shop, is a fantastic bonus.
“Yes.”
“But I completely understand if you’d rather not get involved,” Phil rambles on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I know you already have your hands full. Although, I would happily volunteer my time to offset the additional work…”
I let her run on while turning my attention to the sheets of paper she handed me. I flip through the pages until I find what I’m looking for.
Then I turn the brochure toward her and tap my index finger on the picture.
“I want that one,” I interrupt her.
“Yes?”
Her face is one of eager anticipation, and it’s difficult not to laugh at her excitement.
“She already said yes once,” Nate provides dryly. “How many different ways do you want to hear it?”
His comments earn him a general chuckle and a very sharp elbow from Phil.
“Can it, smart-ass.” Then she turns a smile on me and holds out her hand. “So, we’re in business?”
I clap my hand in hers and confirm, “We are in business.”
Then I mentally cross my fingers.