Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
May ran into Ophelia just as she reached for the door of the Green Plate. “Hey,” May said. “How are you?”
“Great.” Ophelia bent to hug her, smelling faintly of strawberries and expensive shampoo. “How about you?”
May thought about it for two seconds. “Pretty good. I’m meeting Amka for lunch. Are you free?”
Ophelia straightened, pushing her sunglasses up into her dark hair. Even in jeans and black boots, she looked camera-ready. At almost six feet tall, she was something to look at, like a young Angie Harmon. “I’m free. What’s going on?”
“I need girl talk.”
That was all it took.
“Excellent,” Ophelia said. “Count me in.”
May pulled the door open, and the familiar warmth of the diner wrapped around them.
The Green Plate always smelled like fried chicken, brewed coffee, and whatever Gus had decided was mandatory for the day.
He and his wife, Janet, owned the place.
The floor held the faint scent of lemon cleaner, and a chalkboard near the register listed daily specials in looping handwriting that never quite stayed straight.
Ophelia looked around. “Amka’s in the back.”
“That’s what I was hoping,” May replied.
They started down the narrow aisle between booths.
“Hey, Doc.”
May turned and spotted the three Thompson brothers clustered at a table to the left, flannel sleeves rolled up, caps tossed in a pile. “It’s the Thompsons,” she said. “Are you guys staying out of trouble?”
Mick lifted his bandaged hand like evidence. The white wrap was still clean and neatly secured. “Of course. We were thinking about river rafting tomorrow. Any chance you want to join us?”
Ophelia slowed and stepped half a pace closer to May without making it obvious. Yeah, sometimes her FBI instincts kicked right in, didn’t they?
“Oh, wow,” Mick said, catching sight of her.
“Your friend can come too.” He stood and offered his good hand.
“Mick Thompson.” He had a faint red sweep across his cheekbones from too much sun and not enough sunscreen.
His grin was hopeful. “These are my brothers, Tommy and Greg,” he added.
“They’re married. I’m not. I’m definitely single. ”
“Ophelia Spilazzi,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m not single.”
Mick’s shoulders sagged. “Either they’re taken in this town or they’re your doctor,” he groused. “You sure you can’t date a patient?”
“I’m very sure,” May said evenly. “And if you go rafting tomorrow, put a bag over that hand.”
“You should put one over his head,” Greg chirped.
Mick shot him a look. “Hey.”
“Doc, what about that pretty nurse?” Mick asked. “Maybe she’s free to go rafting?”
“I think the pretty nurse already told you no to a date,” May said.
Mick retook his seat. “She didn’t mean it.”
“I think she did.” May nudged Ophelia lightly. “Come on. Amka’s waiting.”
They continued toward the back, passing a row of framed photos along the wall that showed fishing tournaments, snow-covered streets, and Gus in front of the diner twenty years younger and just as stubborn-looking.
Amka sat in the last booth, a tall glass of water in front of her, condensation running down the side. Sunlight from the back windows caught in her dark hair and turned the edges bronze. “Hey,” she said, smiling as they approached. “How are things?”
“Good. I hope it’s okay I invited Ophelia,” May said as she slid into the booth. She set her bag carefully at her feet. The prenatal vitamins were inside, but she’d wait.
“Of course it’s okay.” Amka waved it off and leaned forward, her eyes bright. “I told Christian.”
Ophelia dropped into the seat next to her. “Told Christian what?”
Amka bounced in place. “That I’m pregnant.”
Ophelia turned and wrapped her arms around Amka. “Oh, Amka. That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Amka said, laughing softly as she pulled back. “You’re not going to believe it.”
May smoothed her paper napkin over her lap. “How’d he take it?”
Amka burst out laughing so suddenly that the ice in her water clinked. “Horrible.” Her eyes danced. “It was hilarious,” she corrected herself, still grinning.
May frowned. “What do you mean horrible and hilarious?”
“No, no, no.” Amka waved a hand quickly. “He’s very excited. He’s happy. Completely. But it was like I hit him in the head with a brick.” She shook her head, amusement still crossing her expression. “He was stunned. I’ve never seen Christian stunned before.”
Ophelia clapped a hand over her mouth. “Seriously?” she mumbled through her fingers.
Amka nodded. “Honestly, it was all I could do not to laugh. He just stood there staring at me like his brain had to reboot.” She softened.
“The poor guy. But he’s still going to train in Sitka.
Everything’s good.” She took a sip of water.
“However,” she said carefully, “he wants to get married on Saturday.”
Ophelia turned fully in the booth, one knee bumping the table. “Are you kidding?”
“Less than a week?” May repeated. “To put a wedding on?”
“I don’t want anything big,” Amka said quickly. “And I already have a dress.” She looked between them. “I’d love for you both to be in the wedding.”
Ophelia clapped her hands together once. “I’ve never been in a wedding before.”
“I have,” May admitted. “It’s a lot of fun. It’s also slightly chaotic.”
“I’m committed,” Ophelia said solemnly.
Amka eyed May. “Is there any chance you could be in the wedding and take the photographs?”
“Oh.” May paused, truly touched. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Amka said. “Your photographs are the best.”
That was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to May.
“I don’t know how I’m going to do both, but I’ll figure it out.
” She’d only been in Knife’s Edge a short time, but somewhere along the way it had stopped feeling temporary.
These women weren’t acquaintances. They were good friends.
“Where are you getting married?” she asked. They needed to start planning.
“There’s only one church in town,” Amka said. “That part’s easy. The reception will probably be at the tavern. I practically live there, and Christian likes it there. The whole town will show up anyway, so it makes sense.”
“We can spill outside,” Ophelia said, tapping her lip thoughtfully. “We could block off the street and set up tables all the way down.”
May could already see it in her head. “That’s a great idea. We’ll get tablecloths and maybe string some lights across the front.”
“If the whole town’s coming,” Ophelia said, “use the whole town.”
“I love that,” Amka said, happiness radiating from her.
Janet hustled over just then with her hair twisted into a bun and a pencil tucked behind her ear like always. “Hi, ladies.” She didn’t bother with menus. “I’m thinking y’all want the chicken sandwich with fries.”
“Sounds good,” May said.
“I’d like that,” Amka agreed.
Ophelia glanced up. “I was kind of craving a salad, Janet.”
Janet leaned in, lowering her voice like she was delivering classified information. “You don’t want the salad today. Trust me. You want the chicken sandwich.”
Ophelia didn’t argue long. “All right. That’ll be fine, and I’ll take a Pepsi.”
“Coffee for me,” May said.
“I’m good with water,” Amka added.
Janet waved at a group just sitting themselves at a far table. “I’ll let Gus know.” Gus and Janet had owned the place longer than most of the buildings on Main Street had been standing. People ate what Gus told them to eat, and it was always the right call.
When Janet left, Ophelia plopped her elbows onto the table and pointed at May. “All right. Talk.”
The booth felt warmer suddenly, closer, and May knew there was no getting out of it now. She tried very hard not to blush. “All right, so last night—”
“I knew it,” Ophelia said, clapping her palm lightly against the table. “Sorry.”
“You knew what?” May asked, even though her face was already warm.
“Well,” Ophelia said, leaning back and folding her arms, “you and Ace didn’t come to the tavern last night. Everybody else did. After the tourists were found. So…” She let the rest hang there between them.
From the kitchen came the sizzle of meat hitting hot oil. A bell dinged near the counter. The Green Plate felt normal, busy, and alive. Meanwhile her friends were staring at her like she’d just confessed to arson.
May exhaled. “Ace and I—”
“Yay,” Amka said under her breath.
“Oh, thank God,” Ophelia said. “It’s about time.”
“That took forever,” Amka added, shaking her head.
“I know,” Ophelia agreed. “Forever.”
“Shut up, both of you,” May said, though she was laughing now. She tucked her hair behind her ear and sobered. “Now, seriously.”
They both straightened, instantly attentive.
“What now?” Amka asked.
Ophelia reached for her drink. “What do you want?”
May traced a small circle on the tabletop with her fingertip. “I’m not sure.” The booth felt smaller all of a sudden. “I mean,” she went on, “Ace acts mellow most of the time. Mischievous. But he’s got an edge.”
Amka coughed into her hand. “An edge? You’re talking to me about an edge? I’m marrying Christian.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” May conceded. “But it’s different. Ace made some comment about wanting a chance. The guy stood there barefoot in his kitchen like he didn’t have a care in the world.” She shrugged. “But he hasn’t called all day.”
“Well,” Ophelia said calmly, “it’s just after lunch.”
“I know.” May drew in a breath.
Amka tore her napkin apart. “He went to see Smitty this morning. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to tell you that.”
“He did?” Ophelia asked.
Amka’s cheek creased. “Christian saw him.”
May blinked. “So he’s trying.”
“Yeah,” Amka said. “He’s trying really hard to get his head on straight.”
“That’s good,” Ophelia said.
It felt good to talk this out. “It is,” May agreed quietly.
“Now if we could just get him cleared of this murder rap,” Ophelia said.
May looked up immediately. “Speaking of which, what do you know?”