A Sense of Missed Opportunity
PATRICK
Patrick was on his second cup of coffee when Garrett came downstairs with a length of copper pipe.
His cousin from Birch Falls was a good man to have around under any circumstance, but as someone who’d been working for his dad’s construction and renovation company since he could hold a hammer, he was especially useful in their fixer-upper.
Eventually, this would become not only their shared living space, but their customer-facing center of operations as well. Once they became official and opened their doors for business, that was. They were still working out the details, but it was going to happen.
“Guest bathroom is temporarily out of commission,” Garrett said, by way of greeting.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that I should've done it in August.” He set the pipe on the counter and poured himself a coffee. “Shouldn’t take me long once we’ve got the parts. Any chance you’re going into town today?”
“I could swing by the home center after the estate clean-out. Make me a list.”
Garrett glanced around, grabbed a takeout receipt from the counter, and scribbled a few lines on the back. “Thanks. I’d go myself, but I’ll be working late tonight getting the Thompson’s roof done before the rain hits. Speaking of, better pick up more buckets too.”
“On it.”
Garrett tossed back the last of his coffee and left. “Later.”
Patrick wasn’t far behind.
The estate job took longer than expected. Not only had the elderly resident been a hoarder, but her micro-managing daughter kept getting in the way, changing her mind about what she wanted to keep, what she wanted to sell, and what she wanted to donate.
The sight of the café made him think of his last visit there and the woman who’d been creeping into his thoughts ever since. Last night. This morning. Fifteen minutes ago.
He checked his watch. It was about the same time of day, and yeah, he could use a coffee.
Only a few tables were occupied. The counter was quiet. Jess looked up from the register when the door opened, and something in her expression shifted when she saw him. There it was. A spark of hope he’d done nothing to encourage.
“Wow, twice in one week,” she said with a flirty smile, suggesting that maybe he wasn’t coming in just for the coffee. “Large dark roast, right?”
“Right.”
She turned and started making it, smiling at him over her shoulder. “For here or to go?”
“To go, please.”
He ignored the flash of disappointment on her face and scanned the interior again, feeling a vague pang of disappointment himself. He’d known the chances of running into the mystery woman again were slim, but like Jess, he’d felt an inexplicable spark of hope that their paths would cross again.
“That woman that was here the other day,” he said. “Has she been back, by any chance?”
“The one who spilled coffee all over you?”
“That’s the one.”
Jess frowned, as if she didn’t want to talk about her. “She was in this morning. Why?”
Patrick’s heart beat a little faster. She was still in town. He wondered if she’d paid cash again, like last time, or if she’d used a card.
“Just curious. Know anything about her?”
Jess’s frown deepened. “Other than the fact that she dumped coffee on you and didn't seem especially bothered about it, no.” She smoothed out her features. “You were very nice about it, by the way. More so than most people would be.”
“Well, it was my fault.”
“See what I mean? Too nice. It was totally on her.”
Jess handed him the cup, holding on a little longer than necessary. Patrick gently claimed his coffee, then pulled a ten out of his pocket and slipped it on the counter. “Thanks, Jess.”
She blushed. “Let me get your change.”
“Keep it.”
Patrick walked out of the café, making a mental note to avoid it—and Jess—for a while. As he made his way toward the hardware store, he wondered what he could do to increase the likelihood of their paths crossing again.
As it turned out, he didn’t have to do anything.
He'd been to the hardware store and was cutting back across the square when he felt it. Nothing tangible, just an awareness. He paused beside one of the sugar maples and sought the source, knowing he’d found it when he caught sight of a familiar figure coming out of the bookstore with a bag in her hand and head toward the diner.
Through the large glass windows, he saw her take a booth in the back. A waitress came and took her order. Then she pulled a book out of the bag and began to read.
He put down the buckets and checked his phone. Garrett said he’d be working late, and he wasn’t scheduled to be at the pub until later. He needed to eat, right?
He dropped his purchases off in his SUV, then made his way quickly back to the diner.
The mystery woman was still in the window, sipping iced tea, her attention on her book.
She looked softer in profile, her features relaxed, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. What was she reading, he wondered?
As if she’d sensed him too, she raised her gaze and looked out the window. Her eyes scanned the square before coming to rest on him. His pulse sped up again.
From just a look.
His phone vibrated, and he absently pulled it out of his pocket, frowning when he saw Riley’s name on the screen. Riley preferred texts over calls, so he knew it was important.
“Riley. What’s up?”
“Can you cover my shift at the pub tonight?”
He glanced at the diner. Yep, she was still looking.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something. Everything okay?”
“It will be,” she said firmly.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll fill you in later. If Mom or Dad asks, I’m shopping with Kate. Thanks! You’re the best.”
The connection ended suddenly. With one last look at the diner and a sense of missed opportunity, he put the phone in his pocket and walked back to his car.
The early shift was relatively slow, mostly local men and women stopped in for a drink or a quick bite on the way home from work.
His father was behind the bar, deep in conversation with a man about something that had apparently gone wrong with a truck engine.
Ian Callaghan could talk to anyone about anything, and he did it with the ease of a man who was genuinely interested.
It was one of the more useful qualities Patrick had inherited from him, along with his looks and his penchant for online research.
His uncle Jake raised his brows when Patrick stepped behind the bar.
“Thought Riley was working the early shift tonight.”
“She was, but she and Kate went shopping and lost track of time.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”
Patrick shrugged. “That’s what she said.”
“Hm,” Jake hummed, then moved toward the kitchen—probably to ask his wife Taryn if she’d heard anything about a shopping trip running into overtime.
“What’s that about?” Ian asked, lifting his chin toward his brother.
“Don’t ask me.” Seriously. Don’t ask me. As far as he knew, Riley actually was out shopping with Kate. “Why? Is there something going on I don’t know about?”
It was Ian’s turn to shrug. “Hell if I know. You know how he worries about Riley.”
“Yeah. Like you do with Kate.”
Ian laughed. “Kate doesn’t give me nearly as many gray hairs as Riley gives Jake.”
“Fair,” Patrick grinned back.
Jake returned later looking a little less stressed, and the evening progressed as usual until a group of men came in buzzing with news.
“You hear what happened up at the old campground?” one of them said, joining the group already seated at the bar.
“Sulley’s?”
“That’s the one.”
“No. What?” someone asked.
“They found a body. Kids came across it this afternoon in one of the cabin rentals. Police have been out there since late afternoon.”
“That place has been closed since old Tom passed on.”
“Yeah, well, maybe nobody told the stiff.”
“They say who it was yet?”
“No. No id, apparently.”
The conversation expanded from there the way it always did in a small town. Details multiplied, some accurate, some theoretical. Patrick moved along the bar, collecting glasses, filling orders, quietly collecting information.
Pine Ridge wasn’t the kind of place bodies just appeared. The last time something like that had happened, Patrick had been just a kid, but it had been all over the news. This… wasn’t.
He thought again of his mystery woman. Chances were, the timing was just a coincidence.
His gut said otherwise.