Chapter Ten
Bethany eyed the hands of the kitchen clock. Eight-thirty. No Hank. He hadn’t returned like he’d promised. The energy drained from her body, and with it, her normal optimism.
She pressed a hand against the dull ache in her lower back and tossed the kitchen sponge into the sink. They’d had so many sit-down customers due to his unexpected visit and all the media attention and fans who’d shown up that she’d been on her feet all day.
Bethany put a stack of dishes away in the cupboard, eyeing the familiar blue pattern that had once belonged to her grandmother and mother.
On an ordinary day, the legacy would have filled her with satisfaction, but not today. The evening ahead stretched dull and endless like a laundry line of old clothes. She shook her head as if the movement might shake some sense into her. Had dinner with Hank meant so much?
Bethany selected another dish to put away as the old dishwasher churned next to her. It didn’t get the dishes as clean as she liked, but it worked. They’d used every plate, bowl, and glass available, including the prized china, so she’d hand-washed, then dried the more delicate pieces.
She untied her apron, her movements sharp and efficient. She should have expected he would change his mind. Should have learned from experience. He was a celebrity after all. Weren’t they all fickle and unreliable?
She stuck her head into the dining room where Travis and Rosie wiped tables and the girls colored pictures of cupcakes in a coloring book she kept on hand for such an occasion.
“. . . doesn’t need to know,” Travis was saying. When he saw her, he held up a giant black bag of trash, as if that was the reason for his comment.
“Who doesn’t need to know what?” Bethany asked, entering the room. “You have a dead body stashed in there?” She pointed at the trash bag but didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she grabbed a dishcloth from the nearest table and began wiping it.
Travis sighed and dropped the bag. “You’re not gonna like it.”
Bethany raised an eyebrow in the best imitation of their mom she could muster and pretended indifference. “If it’s about Hank Haverill not showing up for dinner tonight, that’s not unexpected. He’s a busy man. I’m sure jet lag caught up with him.”
Travis scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose I should just tell you. You’re gonna see it sooner or later.”
“Uh-oh.” Bethany’s stomach sank further, and she stopped mid-wipe. “See what?”
Travis held up his cell phone, then moved toward her and turned it so she could read the heading on the page he’d pulled up: Apollo Actor to Open Fitaholics in Historic Tremont. She grabbed the phone and scrolled. Underneath was a picture of Hank in front of their restaurant, smiling.
Darn it. Hadn’t she known he would give in to pressure and open the stupid fitness center anyway?
She returned the phone to Travis and collapsed into the nearest chair.
No wonder the jerk had ditched his plans to make her dinner.
Afraid to face her wrath. Probably lied about knowing how to cook too.
She clutched the sides of the chair and managed a shallow breath. Then another. She dropped her head in her hands. If she ever saw him again, she would give him a piece of her mind. But not now. Now she wanted to crawl into a hole and cry.
“I’m sorry, Bethany. You were right to suspect him of lying. What are we gonna do?”
“It’s a lousy shame, that’s what it is.” Rosie pushed in a chair.
She had stuck around to help with cleanup because they’d had so many customers, and the place was a mess.
“He was so kind to the girls. Seemed like such a nice man.” She shook her head.
“And to think I posted his photo on Instagram. I’ll delete it. I promise.”
Despite the weakness in her limbs, Bethany forced her body to move. To stand. To pick up the dishrag again and function as normal. “No need to do that on my account. I knew him for a stud rooster the moment I set eyes on him. After every feathery hen in the hen house.”
She resumed wiping tables, ignoring the looks of sympathy that Rosie and Travis were shooting her way in turns.
“The good news is, since he’s not coming, you two can head on out.
” She motioned to the front. “I’ll clear out the register and follow.
I don’t think any of us will have a problem sleeping after the day we’ve had.
And chances are, tomorrow’s going to be busy too. ”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Travis asked. “I don’t like you walking to the car by yourself at night. I’ll stay and help.”
Bethany shook her head and patted his shoulder. “Thanks, Travis, but I need to be alone right now. I’ve got my pepper spray. Besides, you’ve got the early shift tomorrow. I can sleep in.”
She turned to Rosie. “The girls must be tired, and you have to work tomorrow, so you all need to get home and into bed too.”
It was a measure of their exhaustion that neither Travis nor Rosie argued with her plan.
Bethany stayed another half hour to tally the day’s earnings—three times the amount of a normal day. She should count her blessings. She’d made money, and now she knew Hank Haverill for the lying, scheming actor he was.
She filled a small plate with tuna, grabbed her keys and purse, placed her hand on the pepper spray, and opened the creaky back door.
A single harsh light lit one side of the small, dark parking lot where her car was parked.
The other light had burned out long ago.
She kept meaning to have Travis replace it.
She gripped her keys and stared into the inky blackness.
Bethany glanced toward the bushes. A tree branch snapped, and she smothered a shriek, pointing her pepper spray toward the sound.
Nothing appeared after a full minute spent staring down the bushes.
She let out a large sigh of relief. At least a couple of times a year, there were stories of people held at gunpoint and robbed in the area.
She darted a quick glance toward the full moon, which cast an aura of romance over the night sky. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She bit her cheek and swallowed the feeling of disappointment churning in her stomach like waves on jagged rocks as she set down the plate.
“Here, Walter. Here, kitty.” She searched the parking lot for the hungry tabby cat who haunted the place.
A soft breeze caressed her cheek before a flash of something in the sky caught her attention—a falling star.
Bethany sucked in her breath as she watched the fading glow.
Tears pricked her eyes as she made a wish, more out of habit than with any hope it would come true.
But she needed all the luck she could get.
Bethany’s heart raced as a clunk sounded, and something rustled in the bushes.
She gasped, then laughed nervously at herself when Walter appeared, meowing and running toward the dish.
She let out her breath and bent to pet the cat.
“Hi, baby. Had a feeling you’d be hungry tonight.”
She stood and watched Walter eat, listening to the sound of a car engine approaching, stereo thumping.
The vibration passed through her, reminding Bethany it wasn’t wise to be alone in the dark, even with an eight-foot fence in place.
She held out her car keys and depressed the unlock button until her Toyota let out a reassuring beep and flashed its lights.
A dark figure moved to her right. Blood pounded through her veins. She gasped and, in her haste to get her finger on the button of her pepper spray, dropped her keys.
“It’s okay. It’s me,” a familiar voice said.
“God, Hank.” She held her hand over her heart and sucked in air to try and stop it from beating out of her chest. She narrowed her eyes. “What the heck do you think you’re doing sneaking up on me like that? You almost got an eye full of pepper spray.”
Hank held his hands in the air, as if he expected at any moment to get hit with the lethal stuff. His tall form loomed large, and Bethany caught a whiff of his clean, masculine scent. “What are you doing here?”
“I knocked at the front door, but no one answered. I heard you calling someone. So I climbed the fence.” He shrugged his broad shoulders like it was nothing.
Bethany tore her gaze from the fence to Hank to the fence and back to Hank again. Maybe he was part god.
“I work out.” Hank grinned. “A lot.”
She clenched her jaw. She was not impressed. He could go climb some other girl’s fence.
He moved toward her. “Who were you talking to?”
“I was calling Walter.” She pointed at the cat, who had not looked up from his plate once to check on her.
“I came to apologize.” He reached out a long arm to snag her hand like it was an everyday occurrence, but she dodged it by stepping backward.
“I’m sorry I scared you. I tried to call the restaurant earlier and got voicemail. I’m guessing you didn’t check your messages. I know I’m late, but are you still hungry?”
She shook her head and glared, although she knew it was wasted on him in the dark. “The kitchen’s closed.”
“I could take you to a restaurant. There must be a good one nearby.” He moved his head, and she caught a flash of his face in the moonlight. He looked earnest . . . young even.
“I ate already.”
“Ice cream?”
“I’m not hungry.” She picked up her keys and began walking to her car. He followed, as expected. If there was one thing she’d learned about Hank over the course of the day, it was that persistence was his middle name.
“Coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee at night.”
“Then breakfast in the morning.”
Bethany stopped at her trunk and placed her hands on her hips.
“Stop trying to manipulate me. I read the interview you did today. You’re going to open the fitness center and put me and the rest of the tenants out of business.
You can forget the whole meal thing. I don’t care if you are my landlord. We have nothing to talk about.”