Chapter 11 #3
Inside, the scent of paint had faded, replaced again by roasting coffee beans and lavender polish.
Books lined the walls. Teacups were neatly stacked.
It was, at a glance, a haven again. But although Molly seemed outwardly over the moon, Brianna could still see the edge in her friend’s posture.
The tightness around her eyes. Fear was a funny thing.
It lingered long after the threat had seemingly disappeared.
Molly took a sip of her coffee, then added, ‘I moved my things back to my cottage this morning, while you were out. And before you say anything, it felt right.’ She offered Brianna a soft, thankful smile. ‘I adore how you want to take care of me, Bri, but it’s time I went home.’
Brianna tipped her head. ‘Are you sure?’
Molly nodded, sipping her coffee again. ‘I’m sure.’
‘Okay, I’ll have to take your word for it.’ Brianna frowned slightly, then dropped her voice low. ‘I just wish you’d waited a bit longer, Moll. I don’t like you being there alone, especially at night.’
Molly gave her a look, one that was warm but firm. ‘Bri, I’m a big girl. With big-girl boots. I can stand in my own kitchen and make my own tea. And I can call for help if needed.’ She smiled now. ‘I got this gig.’
Despite herself, Brianna smiled too. ‘Still. You could’ve said something instead of absconding when I left this morning.’
‘Uh-huh, and you would’ve talked me out of it,’ Molly said with a wink. ‘Which is exactly why I didn’t.’
There was silence for a beat, then Molly sighed. ‘And if you’re wondering about the money, yes, I paid it,’ she said quietly.
Brianna froze. ‘You did what?’
‘The eight hundred I was behind in paying, to the same account as before.’
‘Molly …’
‘I had to. I just want this to stop.’
Brianna swallowed her frustration. ‘And in two weeks, when they want more?’
‘I’ll deal with it then,’ Molly said, trying to smile.
Just then a voice called across the street, cutting the conversation short. ‘Wowsers, looks like you’re back in business already, Molly.’
It was Doris Lilah, the town librarian, gliding across the road in her pressed cardigan and long pleated skirt, her silver hair coiled tightly at the nape. Her lipstick was impeccable. Her expression was warm, but her eyes were sharp as pins.
‘Yes, just about,’ Molly offered.
‘Glad to see it. Wouldn’t feel like Sweetwater without the scent of books and your delicious homemade cakes wafting in the air.’ Doris waved a ring-clad hand through the air to emphasise.
Molly thanked her politely, though her gaze lingered.
As the two chatted, a little too formally, about nothing of importance, Brianna kept her evaluation to herself, but something about Doris’s presence set her teeth on edge.
Like the woman knew more than she was letting on.
And just as the librarian wandered off, and she was about to ask Molly her thoughts about Doris, a delivery van pulled up behind them.
‘Howdy, Molly!’ the driver called cheerfully, unloading a stack of brown boxes. ‘I have a specialty teas and syrup order for you.’
‘Oh thanks, Joe, but I didn’t think I reordered yet,’ Molly said, frowning.
‘Maybe it’s a gift, then, given what happened,’ he said, and shrugged. ‘There’s no return address, just a prepaid invoice.’ He grabbed it from a clipboard on the front seat and passed it to her. ‘Looks like some do-gooder wanted you stocked and ready to trade.’
Brianna raised a brow.
Molly blinked as she stared at the paper in her hands.
‘I’ll take it inside, drop it in the usual spot,’ Joe said from behind them, lifting a box onto his shoulder. ‘Good folks deserve a fresh start, I suppose.’
But Brianna couldn’t shake it. All of it.
The librarian. The driver. Trev always there, always helping, maybe too much.
There was something in the air that didn’t quite settle.
But before she spiralled into conspiracies, she exhaled and told herself to get a grip.
She couldn’t keep assessing everything and everyone like they were pieces in a puzzle.
Not everything was a warning. Not every kindness a trap. But still, her gut wouldn’t let it go.
That afternoon, after a quick lunch and topping her medicines up in her vet bag, she turned the key in her Hilux, and the engine coughed twice and died.
‘Oh no, seriously?’ she groaned, trying again.
It revved to some sort of life, as if limping home from a drunken night out.
Damn it, this didn’t sound good. She pulled out her phone, thumb hovering over Hayden’s contact.
He’d know what to do, would probably even fix it himself with that calm, capable way of his.
But she hesitated. No, she told herself.
Not every bump in the road warranted calling him. They weren’t … that.
Instead, she scrolled to Molly’s name and hit call.
Molly answered in three rings. ‘Hey, Bri. What’s up?’
‘It’s my Hilux, it’s starting, but not sounding too good,’she explained, pressing her fingers to her temple. ‘The engine coughed twice then sounded like it barely wanted to get out of bed.’
‘Oh bugger, is it driveable?’ Molly asked, voice instantly alert.
‘Sort of, but I don’t think it’s a good thing to leave it unchecked.’
‘Okay, well, if you can, take it to Roy at Sweetwater Automotive. On Ash Street, just off the main road. His dad used to run the place, but Roy’s the owner now that his old man is retired. He’s reliable, and very well priced.’
‘Will do, thanks, Molly.’
‘If you need it, my ute’s there for borrowing, okay?’
‘Okay, thanks, Moll.’
It took a little coaxing to get the Hilux there, but within ten minutes she was pulling up outside a tin-roofed workshop tucked behind a stand of old gum trees. A sign read Sweetwater Automotive – Roy & Len Dawson, Est. 1982.
A man in his late thirties stepped out, wiping his hands on a rag. Grease smudged one cheek. His smile was easy. ‘You must be the new vet.’
‘Yes, Brianna,’ she confirmed. She wondered how he’d picked it was her, but quickly shrugged it off. ‘My old girl here has just started coughing and spluttering. Molly sent me, said you were the best in town.’
‘Ah, lovely Molly, she’s like family.’ Roy grinned and stepped past her. ‘Let’s take a look-see.’
He popped the bonnet and Brianna wandered into the shade of the shop. It was surprisingly tidy. Racks of tools. A wall calendar with horses on it. A cracked photo of a younger Roy with an older man in faded overalls. Then movement caught her eye. Someone hunched over a bench at the back.
The man turned. He was older. Maybe sixty-something, with skin like worn leather and a faded tattoo on one forearm. A smouldering cigarette was in an ashtray near his elbow, and his overalls were stained with the same grease that covered his hands.
‘Dad!’ Roy called, making Brianna jump. ‘This is Brianna. Molly’s vet friend.’
Len turned all the way around now, and his eyes swept over her. He nodded once. ‘Vet, huh.’
‘Nice to meet you, Len,’ she offered.
He didn’t reply. Just half-smiled, then turned back to his task, fiddling with a carburettor like it owed him rent.
Roy chuckled awkwardly. ‘Sorry, he’s not much for small talk. Still thinks I’m ruining the business by using computers.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said, though her skin prickled.
Something about Len’s stare, well, it was a little too steady.
A little too blank. Trying to ignore it, she wandered further along the wall, taking in the dated posters and cracked linoleum floor.
A breeze lifted the faint scent of grease and eucalyptus from the open back window.
Roy chatted easily, explaining how he checked the dipstick, then confirmed there was more he needed to take a look at.
Len didn’t speak again, just lit another cigarette and hunched deeper over his task.
The silence from the older man wasn’t hostile, exactly, just heavy.
‘Should be an easy fix,’ Roy assured her. ‘Can you leave it with me overnight, maybe for two, if need be?’
‘Ahh.’ She considered her work, and how she was going to get around. She’d have to take Molly up on her offer to use her old ute. ‘Yup, all good.’
‘Great, I’ll give you a call if we need anything else, Brianna.’
She thanked him, and grabbing her vet bag from the passenger seat, left.
But as she walked out of the garage, she couldn’t help but glance back once.
Len was still watching her. Just for a moment.
And then he turned away, shaking his head as if mumbling to himself.
She told herself not to overthink it. Some people were just … odd.
But the feeling stuck with her long after she was gone.