Chapter 6 #2
It sounded like an apology for him not being there himself. Reid turned away and leaned on the counter. Was it? He hadn’t meant it to come out that way.
Holly dried her hands. “He remembered you but you didn’t recognize him?”
“He only remembers me because of Granddad. I get the feeling he wasn’t overly fond of him.” He grinned. Allen wouldn’t be the first to carry frustration over one of Judge Fleming’s rulings.
“Then maybe ask your grandfather.”
“That would require Granddad to answer questions about feelings, professional history, or both.”
“So, impossible.”
“Not impossible.” Reid picked up the tub of clean mugs. “Just procedurally complex.”
That earned him the faintest smile. He found himself caught in it, unable to look away.
The afternoon brought a different atmosphere.
Lunch was busy, then cleared into a lull.
Holly arranged the back corner for the support group with the same care she gave every gathering.
Coffee, water, tissues, a plate of muffins, chairs angled in a loose circle.
She didn’t hover once people arrived, but she noticed each of them, greeting some by name and others with a quiet, welcoming smile. Allen got his same mug with his coffee.
Reid kept to the counter, close enough to work and far enough away to look like an employee who had no reason to care what anyone discussed. He didn’t hear specifics from the group, and he didn’t try. The content of the meeting was less important than the room around it.
Allen set a leather folio against his chair leg. He moved through the space with calm authority, greeting people, touching a shoulder here, lowering his voice there. Reid understood why Holly liked him. He made people feel seen, just like she did.
Then the big man from the morning came in.
Reid was refilling the pastry case when the bell over the door chimed.
He looked up, and there he was: dark canvas jacket, heavy boots, broad chest, beard, and that same contained watchfulness.
He paused just inside the door, scanned the shop, checked the front windows, then the hallway, then the back corner where Allen’s group had begun to gather.
His eyes passed over Reid without recognition.
Holly came out of the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee and nodded to him. “Afternoon, Hopper.”
“Holly,” the man said. His voice was low, rough, not unfriendly but not open.
“Coffee?”
“Black. Thanks.”
Reid reached for a mug before Holly could, and she let him.
Hopper watched the handoff, watched Reid pour, watched Holly step away to check on a customer at the register.
He took the mug with a nod and carried it to the support group, choosing a chair on the outside of the circle with his back to the wall and a clear view of the door.
The group settled in. Allen spoke quietly, and the circle responded with a mix of nods, murmurs, and silence. A woman in a navy cardigan kept twisting a tissue in her hands. A younger man in a work shirt stared into his coffee as if it might offer absolution.
Hopper said nothing. He watched the room, eyes moving whenever the bell chimed or a chair scraped. Once, when a delivery driver came in too quickly and the door banged against the stopper, Hopper’s hand tightened around his mug hard enough that Reid saw his knuckles pale.
Reid had known men who watched exits because they were dangerous. He’d known more who watched exits because danger had found them first.
Either category could matter.
When the group ended, Allen remained behind with two members while others drifted toward the counter for refills or to-go cups. Hopper left alone. He didn’t linger, didn’t speak to anyone, including Holly, and didn’t look back as he stepped onto the sidewalk.
Reid moved to the front window with a rag in one hand and watched him cross Main, shoulders hunched slightly against a wind that had picked up through the afternoon.
There was no rain and only a few people on the street. Hopper still looked as if he expected something to come from behind him.
After the last group member left and Allen took his folio with a polite goodbye to both of them, Reid carried a tray of dirty mugs into the kitchen. Holly followed with the plate of muffin crumbs.
He set the mugs near the dishwasher. “Tell me about Hopper.”
Her expression didn’t close, exactly, but caution entered it. “What about him?”
“He was by the patio gate watching us during the Hoyt exchange this morning. Then back for the support group this afternoon.”
“So?”
“What do you know about him?”
“Not much.” Holly dumped the crumbs in the garbage and slid the plate into the dishwasher. “He started coming in recently, maybe a few months ago. He keeps to himself, gets black coffee, usually sits outside if the weather’s decent.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“Outside the city limits, I think. North of town, maybe. Allen would know more, but I wouldn’t ask.”
“Because of confidentiality.”
“And because people are allowed to come here without handing me their life in a file folder.”
Reid leaned back against the counter, not missing the protective edge in her voice. It wasn’t aimed only at Hopper. It was aimed at the idea that everyone who carried silence might be dangerous. He understood why she resisted that. He also couldn’t ignore what he’d seen.
“I’m not accusing him,” he said.
“Not yet.”
“No. Not yet.”
She absorbed that without flinching, though he saw how little she liked it. “He’s quiet and reserved. Some people don’t want to talk.”
“Some people watch doors because they don’t feel safe.”
She acknowledged that with a nod. “He’s done that since the first time he came inside. You don’t think…?”
Reid shrugged. “Like I said, not yet, but I need to look into him.”
She sighed but didn’t say anything.
They closed after the late-afternoon rush, cleaned the shop, and reset for morning. Roni returned Blue just before six with a report that he’d excelled at tunnel work, disgraced himself with a flirtatious beagle, and attempted to herd three puppies for reasons known only to his ancestors.
Blue entered Sanctuary with his tail high, accepted Holly’s hug, then ran straight to Reid as if they’d been separated for weeks rather than hours.
“Wow,” Roni said, watching him shove his head against Reid’s thigh. “I see how it is.”
“He’s faithless.” Holly rubbed Blue’s ears, but her voice held warmth. “Did he eat lunch?”
“Every bite, plus one treat he conned out of Trevor by looking tragic.”
“Blue.”
The dog wagged.
Roni looked between Reid and Holly, curiosity still alive but gentler than it had been that morning. “You two surviving temporary coffee employment?”
“So far,” Holly said.
“Reid hasn’t broken anything?”
Holly’s smile froze for a second, as if that had struck a note in her. “He’s been fairly useful.”
Roni’s eyebrows rose. “That almost sounded like praise, big brother.”
Holly laughed. “It was an employee evaluation.”
“Mm-hmm.” Roni kissed Blue’s head. “I’ll leave before I become unbearable.”
“That window closed years ago,” Reid said.
His sister grinned at him. “Love you, too.” Then she looked at Holly and softened. “Call if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Holly fed Blue upstairs while Reid finished the final lock check of the shop. When he came up, Blue was eating with focused devotion, and Holly stood at the kitchen counter staring into the refrigerator.
“Please tell me you’re not planning sandwiches again,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder. “There is nothing wrong with sandwiches.”
“Agreed. There’s also nothing wrong with ordering dinner.”
“I can feed myself.”
“I’ve seen the evidence, your honor. I’m suggesting an outside provider.”
Her mouth moved as if she wanted to argue, then she shut the refrigerator. “I’m too tired to be offended.”
“Skycountry Pizza?”
That made her pause. “You remember Skycountry?”
“Best crust in Blackridge.”
“It’s the only pizza place in Blackridge.”
“That helps its ranking.”
This time she did smile, small but real. “They added a second location in Mesa Ridge and got fancy. They have garlic knots now.”
“Then we’d better test whether expansion ruined them.”
She ordered from her phone while Blue finished dinner and licked his bowl across the kitchen until it hit the cabinet with a dull clunk.
Together, they took him out for an evening break while they waited for the pizza.
The air had cooled fast after sunset, carrying the scent of pine from the hills and fryer oil from the diner down the block.
Blue handled his business, investigated a mailbox with unnecessary thoroughness, and tried to convince them the night required a longer walk. Holly refused calmly, clearly having negotiated with this particular terrorist before.
When they returned, the pizza arrived, and Reid paid the delivery driver before Holly could reach for her wallet.
She gave him a look as he set the boxes on the counter. “That wasn’t necessary. I can buy pizza.”
“You fed everyone else today.”
Her eyes stayed on him an extra beat. “That’s not how it works.”
“Tonight it can.”
She didn’t thank him. He didn’t need her to.
She got plates from the cabinet and opened the first box.
Steam rose from the pizza, carrying the scent of garlic, cheese, pepperoni, and green chiles.
The second box held garlic knots glossy with butter and herbs.
Blue sat beneath the breakfast bar, alert for falling cheese.
They ate at the counter because the table had a stack of receipts on it, and neither of them seemed inclined to move them. The food was hot, salty, and better than Reid remembered. Holly ate two slices and one garlic knot, which felt like a victory he had no right to claim.
He waited until she’d finished most of the second slice before he brought up Hopper.
“How much do you know about the support group members?”
Holly wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I know most of them by name and coffee preferences. Who likes to sit where. Not their stories, though. I don’t eavesdrop.”
“So you don’t know Hopper’s reason for attending.”