Chapter 12 #2
Every eye was on him now, and in response to the attention, his cheeks went pink.
“The day he died,” he continued, “he came to the diner. Sat at the counter and drank coffee. Said something about how ‘it would all blow up soon.’ I had no idea what he was talking about, and we were slammed, so I nodded and kept working.”
Ruby slapped a hand to the table and sat up straight. “Oh my God, Marty. You can’t just sit on that kind of info.”
“I told Nolan after Will’s body was found,” he said, frowning. “Who would’ve expected a syrup vat tragedy?”
Behind the bar, Frankie growled. She hated Police Chief Nolan Graham passionately. I’d never gotten the full story, but she never missed an opportunity to question his ability to keep this town safe.
“Course he can’t solve the one murder this town’s ever seen.” Her words were muttered, but they traveled to us clearly in the empty space.
“It may be out of his hands,” Callie said. “Rumor is the FBI visited the Lawrence farm.”
My stomach lurched. Jasper’s farm? The FBI? He hadn’t mentioned it, but God, he must be stressed.
Nora crossed her arms. “Something’s been up with Sugar Moon lately. They keep expanding that north lot and applying for zoning variances.”
“And our deliveries have been delayed on and off for months.” Marty added.
My instinct was to jump in and defend. We were the largest employer in town and gave back to this town and its people. In fact, I oversaw many of the charitable initiatives, including the science scholarships for kids from the local high school.
There was no way the organization could be involved, and this kind of speculation could be harmful to their reputation and business.
When I went back to work next week, I’d nip it all in the bud. Clearly there were topics that needed better messaging.
As the conversation flowed to the book I hadn’t bothered to read and the need to bring tourists back for the summer, my thoughts drifted to Vincent.
Without a second thought, I checked my phone again. The screen was free of notifications.
Evie:
Update?
Jasper:
He just smiled in his sleep. Cutest fucking thing ever.
My heart warmed as I pictured Jasper at home, one of his big hands steady on Vincent’s back, relishing the steady rise and fall of his baby breathing.
“You’re glowing,” Callie said, shaking a wing in my direction.
“And it’s not the alcohol,” Nora added. “She’s drinking water.”
“Hormones and exhaustion,” I said, tucking my phone away.
“Or her baby daddy,” Ruby teased, raising her eyebrows.
Every head snapped in my direction, the scrutiny causing heat to creep up my chest and neck and into my face.
Thankfully Callie got distracted quickly and hollered for Dottie, taking the spotlight off me. “Can I get another beer? If I don’t relax, I may ship the twins off to military school.”
The group broke into a round of laughter.
Tony was the loudest, his voice bouncing off the paneled walls. “You say that every week.”
“Don’t threaten us with a good time,” Basil added.
Her response was a single middle finger.
I chuckled at that, thankful they had moved on from questioning my growing affection for Jasper.
“This is self-care,” Callie said, lifting her glass in one hand and a maple-glazed pretzel in the other.
“I can make you a serum for that,” Nora said, pushing her jeweled glasses up her nose.
“Of course you can, witch queen. But first you promised me stretch mark cream,” Ruby shouted.
“I got you,” Nora said, pulling out her phone to make note of requests.
Tony mentioned his concern about the lack of tourists this spring, and the conversation turned again. Tourism was the lifeblood of this town. It sustained the local economy and provided jobs and opportunities for our young people.
“I don’t mind the break from the douchebags in Teslas who drive up for one jar of syrup and a sense of authenticity.”
“Yeah, but douchebags in Teslas keep the lights on in my store,” he said. “So let’s dial it up, get even more authentic. We can’t let this tragedy drive everyone away.”
“Birch Hollow is celebrating our struggle,” Ruby growled. “They are going all out for Fourth of July, think they can beat us this year.”
A hush fell over the table. Birch Hollow was twenty miles north of Maplewood, a pretty town with a river and covered bridges and cobblestone streets.
And the citizens there were our nemeses.
They had been trying to steal our Most Charming Small Town in America title for years, but they had yet to succeed.
“Have we considered that Birch Hollow might be behind this?” Etienne asked, his brows pulled low. “They have the most to gain from Maplewood’s downfall.”
That question set everyone off. There was nothing this town loved more than shitting on Birch Hollow.
I sincerely doubted that a group of small-town Vermont hippies would kill someone to get a leg up in a competition, but this crowd would not be deterred.
Regardless, I soaked it all in. The wacky ideas to attract tourists, the wild conspiracies about our rival town, and the gentle ribbing and support flowing around this table.
The sensation that took over was one of comfort, of belonging.
I’d never experienced this until I moved to Maplewood.
Not in college or previous jobs. Not even at home with my family.
But here, in this weird-ass town, I belonged. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen, but for now, I’d enjoy it.