3. Lynne （Now）
Lynne (Now)
Every morning after Halloween left Lynne feeling like she was hungover. Too little sleep, too much adrenaline, and a splash of regret, even if nothing significant had happened. This morning was no different.
It was freezing in there, which wasn’t right.
She knew she’d left the heat on. So with an angry suspicion, she trudged to the men’s bathroom to find the window facing the alley propped open again.
A few cigarette butts and ash lined the window sill, right beside a glaring wall sign that read “No smoking per the order of the Walsh County Health Department.” She cursed.
As soon as she figured out who kept doing that, she was going to ban them from O’Donnell’s.
She closed the window and returned to the fate of her day.
As she surveyed the damage, an exhausted sigh escaped her mouth.
The floors needed deep cleaning, the trash bins overflowed, and the incident report about that drunk guy who got in a fight and broke some glass still needed to be logged.
Where to even start? At least the margins would be glowing.
Nights like Halloween and St. Patrick’s Day kept them in the green—one small consolation prize for the mess she was staring down.
She’d always liked decorating the bar for Halloween—stringing floating candles that hung from the ceiling, a life-size skeleton propped on the jukebox, an LED-lit jack-o’-lantern on every table, cobwebs in every corner.
But the problem with being the owner-manager of a small-town bar after a night like Halloween was that you were the only one tying up the loose ends.
Every. Goddamn. Time. Gone were the days of clocking out and letting her dad handle the breakdown.
He’d been a saint, staying up later than tolerable or getting up early the next morning just so O’Donnell’s would be ready for the lunch crowd on November 1st. But not her.
This year she was in charge, and she’d learned enough after Mardi Gras to take the entire day off to recalibrate.
She grabbed the mop and bucket, cringing at the memory of everything that came out of her mouth the previous night.
It wasn’t so much that she was in the wrong.
Not by any means. Ruby had been manipulative, and Leo wanted to pretend like this was just like every year.
She was allowed to feel bitter toward both of them this morning. She’d get over it.
What bothered her, instead, was what Leo had said last night. She’d been so careful this time to map out multiple exit strategies beforehand, from sending Ruby to walk him home to saying something cruel. It had worked before—being cruel. But Leo wasn’t supposed to meet her wrath with warmth.
She surveyed where she might’ve gone wrong as she mopped.
She hadn’t given him any mixed signals this year.
Hadn’t made a first move. Hadn’t responded to his.
But he still got under her skin somehow.
Furious didn’t even begin to describe how she felt when he asked what she remembered about his dad.
But when she’d turned it around, forced him into a corner with the same question, he met her with kindness—as if he’d cataloged every worthwhile detail about her dad since they’d met.
She hadn’t anticipated that. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected him to do or say.
However he responded, it was supposed to create a rift between them—an excuse to keep her distance for another full year.
But right now, all she felt was blindsided and embarrassed. So much for that plan.
Her mind traveled back to that first and only night they’d spent together six years ago.
Yes, he was sexy. Yes, he was well-spoken.
It was Leo March. The guy half the town of Autumn Ridge secretly—or not so secretly—had a crush on.
But that night, he’d made her feel seen. Not just another notch in his belt.
Lynne was glad she and Leo’s older brother, Mike, had never gone that far in high school.
If she’d crossed that line with Mike, Leo would’ve stayed exactly where he belonged—Mike’s little brother.
Someone she never would’ve let herself look at that way.
But since that boundary never existed, everything was messier now. Harder to ignore.
She remembered wanting to do more with Mike in high school, but it was out of curiosity and because they were teenagers.
Being caught making out before either of them had a chance to tell their parents, then regularly skipping classes just to be alone, was about as much drama as her teenage self could muster.
Her dad had high expectations for her grades, then he kept her busy with waitressing at the bar as soon as she turned sixteen.
So any chance to indulge in more with Mike all but disappeared after that.
Then Mike left for the military as soon as he turned seventeen. She’d never blamed him for wanting to leave Autumn Ridge. As a couple, they’d already been fading instead of glowing up each year.
But Leo was … something else altogether. She couldn’t put him in a box in the past with Mike. Leo always seemed to be waiting in the background. Just one text or glance away from swallowing her entire focus. He was like gravity. Inevitable.
Only one other creature on this earth had ever made her feel as accepted as Leo: her old cat, Mazzy.
Lynne stopped mopping long enough to clutch the silver filigree pendant that fell against her chest. Inside the barrel were Mazzy’s ashes.
Her dad had found the scruffy, fluffy, cream-colored cat in the alley by their dumpster not long after her mom had abandoned them for some lover in California.
Her dad let her name the cat, and she called it Mazzy Star after a band she’d been obsessed with ever since “Fade into You” was added to the jukebox.
Mazzy was so beloved by the patrons, they even had a craft beer made in her honor. A blueberry stout.
But Mazzy passed just a few months before her dad fell ill. A double kick to the gut.
Lynne found herself grasping her urn pendant whenever she felt overwhelmed after that. When panic rose, that pendant was grounding and solid. The only person who’d ever watched her close enough to realize she did that, though, was Leo.
This was part of the problem. Truly. Everything she said, did, or thought had a sprinkling of Leo March inside it.
Lynne wiped her brow and grasped the pendant in her hand again as she decided what to tackle next. A shuffling sound came from somewhere down the back hall.
“Ruby?” Lynne called.
No one answered. But Lynne didn’t panic. The building was old, known for unfamiliar noises usually blamed on the plumbing. Or it could’ve been a trash bag shifting. It could’ve been anything.
“Ruby, is that you?” She knew it wasn’t. No one was supposed to be here but her.
She held the mop handle up like a baseball bat over her shoulder, ready to strike, and tiptoed down the back hall toward the utility closet.
The door was ajar as usual. The hinge hadn’t properly latched for years.
But something felt off about it now—the stale dust that kicked up from underneath.
A shadow at the base of the closet shifted, and she heard the noise again.
She pulled the door back slowly and peered inside.
Nestled in a torn-open cardboard box, beside the collection of fire extinguishers Leo had given her, were two panicked eyes.
Lynne flipped on the light, and a pale, emaciated feral blinked up at her then hissed. It coiled around something protectively as the thing squirmed around.
Kittens. Five in total, busy nursing with their noses nuzzled against mama cat’s furry stomach, then peeling their big, blue-gray eyes up to look at Lynne one by one.
The smallest of them mewed, lifted its paw, and stumbled over another kitten toward Lynne.
Mama cat hissed and pulled the kitten back by its scruff.
“How on earth…?” Lynne’s voice trailed off as she remembered the men’s bathroom window to the alley, open all night. “Crap.”
She grabbed her phone and scrolled until she landed on the most recent chat for the Nine Lives Club.
Although they’d formed a while ago—from the same group that joined Cali’s book club at the library—they’d become a little better known around town just last month.
Since the city didn’t have a stray cat rescue, someone had to step in.
Lucky for Autumn Ridge, there were nine someones. She and Leo were two of them.
But a surge of panic ran through her.
Lynne snapped a picture of the litter and texted SOS! to The Nine.
Minka, the local café owner, replied immediately. Cute! Where are you?
Lynne—At the bar! I found them in the closet when I was cleaning up this morning! Then I’m freaking out. I don’t know anything about kittens. Mazzy showed up full grown.
The Nine rallied in their replies. Tabitha’s came first. If you’re suddenly a foster, then we all are. What can we do?
Don’t panic. Cali texted. We’ve got fundraiser money now. That’s literally what it’s for. Ethan and I can run out for supplies. He doesn’t have a repair scheduled until this afternoon.
Mrs. Ellery—That’s right. I set up a dedicated checking account for the funds while we wait on nonprofit status. I’ve started the paperwork, but it could be months. Cali—I can transfer some to you now. I’ll call you for details.
Freya—You’ll need more than just cat food when they’re that young. KMR, syringes, bottles, heating pads—get everything you can grab, Cali!
Ethan—Good idea, Freya. We’ll stock up on all the stray cat essentials on this trip. We can keep what’s not needed here at the lake or the library downtown until we find a better place.
Freya—Oh and a digital kitchen scale to weigh them. Are you writing this down, Ethan?
Ethan—On it!
Lynne panic-replied, still in shock at how quickly this had unfolded—and how the responsibilities were building. But don’t they need a vet? They can’t live down here in the bar. You saw the cuteness. Someone’s going to get drunk and mess with them.
Bastet—Vet’s closed on weekends. But let’s remember to call Monday.
Tabitha—Can they stay upstairs in your apartment this weekend? I’ve got litter and a playpen I can run over between appointments.
Freya—What else do you already have on hand?
Lynne took mental inventory of what remained of Mazzy’s, and panic rose in her chest. She had her collar, paw print, and her favorite toy in a keepsake box. But they were of no help right now.
Lynne clasped the pendant and spun it nervously between her fingers. Nothing. I’m screwed. Mama is pissed. She won’t let me anywhere near the kittens. How will I get them upstairs?
We’ll figure this out, Mrs. Ellery messaged. Don’t try to move them just yet. They need her milk and warmth right now. You don’t want to scare her away.
Minka—I can crowdsource advice on my socials and tag O’Donnell’s. Want me to?
I guess?
Cali—I have a friend with rescue experience in Eastmoor. She may not get back to us as fast as social media will, but I’ll reach out. Standby!
Lynne gulped. All the kittens suddenly began to shift and whine.
It was as if they could feel her terror and had absorbed it.
As she started typing Thanks, another shuffle came from deep within the closet.
Lynne lowered her phone and cocked her head as a pair of large, shameful yellow eyes blinked up at her from behind the row of fire extinguishers.
“Fred?”
Leo’s tomcat slithered out and sat on his haunches, right between Lynne and the litter. He stared up at Lynne with an expression that seemed to say Look, I can explain…
“These are yours!” she scolded.
He replied by licking his paw and dragging it across his whiskers a few times.
“And her?” Lynne asked in disbelief. “Is she, like, your girlfriend?”
He glanced back at the feral mother cat, whose ears were pinned flat in anger. Mama growled, clearly not pleased with him either, and Fred turned back around and meowed softly at Lynne.
“Unbelievable. You’re in big trouble, mister.”
She snapped a photo of Fred looking guilty, yellow eyes wide and mouth hung open as if she’d caught him stealing a sandwich, and sent it to The Nine.
I think I know who’s responsible for all this, Lynne texted. Leo, get over here NOW.