Chapter 1
Sutton
“Good morning, Officer.”
“Morning, Delia,” I greet the older woman ordering her breakfast at the counter as I hold the door open for my eight-year-old daughter.
Eleanor skips inside, hands wrapped tight around the straps of her pink backpack. She pauses over the threshold and takes an exaggerated sniff.
“I LOVE this place!”
I chuckle and tuck a loose strand of her soft brown hair behind her ear. “Me too, Buttercup. Why don’t you go find us a seat, and I’ll order your favorite.”
She beams at me, her smile showcasing the missing top incisor, and takes off to our usual spot in the corner.
By the time I return my attention to the front, Delia is finished. I step up to the counter and lean my forearm against the white laminate. “In a rush this morning, Cathy.”
“What’s new?” She rolls her eyes and clears the till. “One unicorn pancake with sausage. What’ll you be having?” She rattles off Nellie’s order from memory. I’m a bit harder to nail down.
“The Platter is fine.”
“Three eggs or five?”
I check my watch. “Better make it three. I’m short on time.”
She tsks. “That’s not enough for a man like you, Sutton. You need a full belly if you want to have the energy to keep this town safe.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t change the fact I’m short on time. If I’m late again and lose my job, I won’t be able to afford breakfast from you.”
The wrinkles beside her assessing eyes crinkle as she looks between Nellie and me. “When are you going to get yourself some help?”
I tap my card on the reader. “Don’t need it.”
“Is that why you’re buying breakfast before school instead of making it?”
I return the card to my wallet and shove it back into my pocket. “Can’t I treat my girl to her favorite pancakes?”
“This is the third time I’ve seen you this month.”
“So?”
“The month started a week ago.”
I reach over and rip the receipt from the till. “Not your business, Cath.”
“You want coffee with that?” she yells at my retreating back.
“Yes, please. OJ for Nellie.”
“Got it, Sutton.”
I flick my fingers behind my head in a short salute and advance to my table. Nellie leans over so far she’s nearly on the table top as she scribbles erratically with a green crayon.
The metal chair scrapes across the floor as I yank out my seat. “What are you drawing?”
Her tongue pokes out of the side of her mouth. “A elephant.”
I squint, blurring the drawing until the image appears. “Ah. I see it. What about this one?” I tap another shape near the edge with my blunt fingernail.
“That’s a monkey, Daddy.”
The long tail looks more like it belongs on a cat or maybe a rodent, but I see the vision. “I knew that.”
“I’m going to draw a lion next.”
“Do I get to hang it on the fridge when you’re done?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m going to take it with me to the zoo today and draw some more animals.”
Cath stops by with Nellie’s orange juice and my coffee. With a chin lift, I tell her thanks. Steam curls from the top of my mug, the tendrils evaporating into the air. “We can’t go to the zoo today. You have school, and I have to get to work.”
Nellie looks at me, her eyebrows lifted nearly to her hair. “I’m going to the zoo with school. It’s my field trip today.”
“That’s today?” My mind searches for the information on the permission slip I signed… Was it last week? The week before? They send the damn things so far out in advance, it’s hard to keep them straight.
“Daddy!” Nellie whines, rising to her knees on her chair. “It’s today! My field trip is today! I’m supposed to bring a bag lunch from home today!”
I stand, taking a scalding gulp of my black coffee. “Cath,” I call out.
She pokes her head out from around the pastry display case. “What’s the problem?”
“Need you to box that order up for me, please. Got a small emergency.”
Nellie carries her full glass of orange juice up to Cathy at the counter. “My dad forgot about my field trip today, so I need to take this to go,” she says in a voice much too mature for her age.
Cathy fights back a smile. She leans over the counter with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. “Did he, now? If I put in a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie for your lunch, will that make it better?”
Nellie nods seriously. “I think so,” she whispers.
Cathy winks and grabs the tissue paper she uses to wrap the baked goods. She packages them in a small white paper sack and hands it to my daughter.
“I put an extra one in there. For after school.”
“Thanks, Miss Cathy.” Nellie beams at the kind woman, seeming to forget all about our dash to the exit.
“And these are yours.” Cathy sets a plastic bag containing two Styrofoam clamshell containers on the counter. “Breakfast to-go.”
“Appreciate it.” I toss a few crinkled dollars into the tip jar beside the till. “See you later.”
The wrinkles beside her eyes deepen. “I’m sure I’ll see you in a day or two.”
Nellie and I hustle back to my truck, buckling her in in record time. Thankfully, this town is small. In less than three minutes, I’m back at home.
“Hurry inside, Buttercup. Eat your breakfast, and I’ll get your lunch together.”
Nellie trips over the mountain of shoes in the foyer.
I kick them aside with my foot, not wanting to experience the same.
Our dog, Merit, a retired K-9 we adopted with help from the Powell Sanctuary in town, sits dutifully by the door, her tail sweeping a pile of her shed hair back and forth across the floor.
“You should learn to pick up after yourself,” I mutter to the dog, leaning down to clean up the hair.
Setting my breakfast on the counter, I open the silverware drawer for a fork, only to find none. My eyes slide to the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, waiting to be loaded into the dishwasher that’s currently waiting to be run. I drop a dishwashing pod into the slot, close the tab, and hit start.
There. One task is done.
Forgoing my hunt for a clean fork, I find a plastic one Cath threw in the bag and shovel a heaping forkful into my mouth. I chew, swallow, and chase it down with a half a triangle of toast.
“Daddy! My lunch.”
“I’m on it.”
After I eat a quick slab of bacon.
I open the fridge, surveying the contents for healthy bag lunch material. Disposable, I remember the permission form said. The kind of day that’s perfect for picking up a Lunchable from the grocery store. I scan the shelves. No Lunchable. Why? Because I clearly forgot to buy one.
The container of strawberries appears to be okay.
I chop them up, and put them into a container.
I grab the opened bag of beef jerky and give it the sniff test. It passes.
In the brown paper bag it goes. I portion out an individual serving of potato chips and hunt down a juice box from the cabinet.
With the cookie from the diner, I’d say that’s a pretty darn good lunch.
I stand at the counter and finish my breakfast in record time. Flipping my wrist, I check my watch.
“Shit, Nellie-Jo. Run and brush your teeth. We’ve got to go.”
I collect the garbage from breakfast and run it outside to the big garbage bin. By the time I get back inside, she’s got her backpack on, and she’s wrestling with her shoes.
“Will I see you tonight?”
I kneel while she practices tying them tight.
“I don’t know. I have some overtime this week, but Aunt Cortney and Uncle Spencer will walk you home from school.”
Her eyes light up at the mention of my brother and his veterinarian wife. They solidly became two of her favorite family members after Spencer took her to the vet clinic to play with some kittens last summer.
“Okay, Daddy.” She stands up and throws her arms around my neck. “Love you.”
There’s nothing in the world better than hearing those words from my girl. The dirty dishes, the long hours, the late nights working overtime. None of it matters as long as I have her.
“I love you too.”