Chapter 20
Travis had just left Scot’s house – he’d dropped by on his way out of town to bring him some food for lunch – when his boss called him. That was so completely unlike Scot that his pulse jumped, scared that he had fallen again. He picked up right away.
“Hello?”
“Tell Juan that he’s overcooking the fries. These are basically inedible. They’re hard as rocks.”
Travis sighed, releasing a mix of relief and annoyance. “I’ll be sure to do that,” he said in a monotone.
“You know what, just put him on. I need to talk to him about this burger too.”
“I’m not at the Bottlenose. I’m on my way to Half Moon Bay.”
“What for?” Scot asked, annoyed.
“Lunch with a friend,” he said flatly.
He was due to meet Rachel at a little diner in Half Moon Bay. It was a late lunch, an hour that the place was open but hopefully empty. He wanted to talk to her one more time, get their story straight in case the detectives digging into Adam’s death ever did link him to the crime scene somehow.
And more than that, he hated the idea of the girl sitting there alone, waiting for him. She had been through enough, been treated as an object and dehumanized and disregarded. He refused to be yet another man who treated her like garbage. She deserved better.
“Quality control is an important part of the job,” Scot was saying. Travis put his thoughts of Rachel and Adam to one side and tried to focus on what his boss was telling him. “You know everything you need to about running the bar, but don’t forget that you need to keep an eye on the kitchen too. People come in for the food even more than the alcohol. If the food starts to slip, our regulars will stop coming. We can’t have that.”
“I know,” Travis said, then tried to carve the impatience out of his voice. He looked out at the landscape, bright wildflowers on one side and the gray Pacific on the other, but the beauty of the coastline wasn’t enough today. He had too many worries for them to be washed away by a few minutes of driving up the California highway. “I’ll talk to them. I know that the quality of the food is important.”
Scot gave a discontented harrumph of acknowledgement. “If they’re sending overcooked food to me, I hate to think what they’re serving up to everybody else.”
“I’ll talk to them,” he said again.
There was a moment of silence, and then Scot said, “I made an appointment at the bank for Monday. I want you to come with me.”
“You need me to drive you?”
“I want to put your name on the business accounts so that you can sign everyone’s paychecks and just generally start to manage things.”
Travis felt a jolt of shock. “I don’t need to do that. You can do that.”
“And if I end up in the hospital again? In a coma next time? How will you keep things running?”
“God, Scot, you’re not going to go into a coma all of a sudden.”
“I need you to be my second in command, Travis. I need you to step up and take the wheel before things all go to hell.”
He shook his head, willing Scot to stop talking.
“Unless you don’t want to take over the bar,” Scot said quietly. “I won’t ask you to take it if you don’t want it. I just thought… but of course you don’t have to. The thing is, I need an answer. One way or another. Because if you don’t want it, it’s time I thought of selling the place.”
Travis took a deep breath as he turned off Highway One and onto one of Half Moon Bay’s quiet streets. “Let’s talk about this in person, okay?”
“Yeah,” Scot said gruffly. “Sure. Of course.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to run the place,” he said as he parked the car, “or that I don’t appreciate what you’re offering me. It’s just that it all feels premature. Like giving up. It’s too soon for you to hand the place over to me. You need to heal from your fall, that’s all.”
“I was going downhill fast before I cracked my head, son. You know that.”
“It’s too soon.” Travis said quickly, talking over the way that his heart had cracked when Scot called him ‘son.’ “You’re fine. Your mind is fine.”
“Better too soon than too late.”
They were quiet for a moment. Travis was all out of hopeful things to say, out of energy to protest.
“You go on,” Scot said. “We’ll talk later.”
“Okay. I’ll stop by with dinner.”
“Don’t bother. I have plenty of food. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Talk to the boys and tell them to stop overcooking every God-damned thing.”
Travis smiled, relieved to hear Scot sounding a bit more like himself. “I will.”
They hung up, and he walked into the little diner. Rachel was already there, waiting for him in a booth, and he sat down on the opposite side of the table.
“Hi,” she said brightly. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” he said honestly. Because, to his surprise, it really was. Some of his anxiety faded away when he saw how healthy she looked.
The first time he had seen Rachel, she had been gaunt and emaciated, with dark circles under her eyes. Now there was a healthy color to her cheeks, which had filled out considerably. She looked like a kid again, like she had regained the youth and vitality that was her due.
He had saved her. Maybe that was giving himself too much credit, but really, what would have happened to her if he hadn’t intervened? Nothing good.
And she knew it too. She looked at him with such a warm glow in his eyes; it made him think of the way that Keely looked at Nick. It was a little-sister kind of adoration, the knowledge that she was safe with him. No one had ever looked at him with such profound gratitude and admiration.
He would do it again, regardless of the consequences, and that realization brought him some measure of peace.
“How are you?” he asked. “You look good. Healthy, I mean.”
“Yeah, thank you. I am good.”
A waitress came by and tossed down a second laminated menu. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I’ll have a cup of coffee,” he said.
“And you?” she asked Rachel.
“A chocolate milkshake, please.”
“Coming right up,” the waitress droned.
“I’m staying with my aunt,” Rachel said as their waitress walked away. “She has a huge garden full of flowers that she sells at the farmers market, so I’ve been working for her part time. I even ran one of the markets all by myself this week.”
“That’s great.”
She nodded, glowing with pride. “I’m taking a couple of classes at the community college, too. I’m going to take a full course load next semester.”
“Good for you,” he said warmly.
“Thanks. Yeah. It feels good. Like I’m finally moving forward.” She smiled at him. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Work’s been a bit hectic.” He ran a hand through his hair, then folded both hands together on the table in front of him and looked down at his interlaced fingers. “The investigation is still going. They brought in another woman the other day, someone who hadn’t so much as spoken to Adam in months. They’re hunting down every lead they can.”
“That just means that they don’t have anything.” She reached her hand across the table and put it on top of his. It was an innocent gesture, one of solidarity and comfort, but automatically he pulled his hands away.
“I thought the same,” he acknowledged. “Still, it’s hard not to worry about it.”
“I can imagine. I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”
“I would do it again,” he said, voicing his realization from before. “If I had to. I don’t regret it.”
She met his eyes and nodded solemnly.
“Chocolate shake and a coffee,” the waitress droned as she plunked their drinks down on the table. “Anything to eat?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Travis said.
Rachel looked at the waitress and shook her head. “I’m fine.”
He wrapped his hands around the warm mug and took a sip of coffee. It was weak, but it was hot and comforting all the same. He wondered how Rachel could drink an ice cream shake on a blustery day like this, but it was warm enough inside.
She wore a thick sweater. It had looked like a jumble of squiggles at first, but on second glance, he saw lines of white reindeer patterned on top of the dark blue.
“Would it be okay if we exchanged numbers?” Rachel was looking down at her milkshake, moving the straw back and forth. She glanced up at him and down again. “I won’t make a habit of bothering you or anything. But if the po– if they contact me again, I’d like to be able to give you a heads up.”
“Sure,” he agreed. “We could do that.”
She pushed her phone across the table, and he plugged in his number. No last name, just Travis. She took the phone back and sent a message; a moment later his phone buzzed.
“There,” she said. “We’re connected.”
“I should get back to the Bottlenose,” he said once he’d finished his coffee. He pulled a twenty out and put it down on the table, enough for both drinks and a tip.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Rachel said as he got up. “Thanks for everything.”
He nodded and looked at her for just a moment, taking in the change in her. He could picture her selling flowers at the farmers’ market, going to college, living a good life.
Even if he ended up in prison or on the run, or simply living the rest of his days with the weight of this secret, that thought would always warm him. She was a good person, a bright light. And his rash action, ill-considered as it had been, had kept that life from being snuffed out.
He didn’t regret it. He couldn’t.
Now he just had to learn how to live with it.