Chapter 7
GEMMA
“June just sat you an eight-top,” Melinda says, after sidling up next to me in front of the coffee pot while I’m making a fresh pot—something she should’ve done twenty minutes ago. “You take your break yet?”
Break?
I almost laugh out loud.
After hanging up with Emily last night, I managed to grab a few more hours of sleep before my four-legged treat addict woke me up by dropping a dead mouse on my chest—part two of her I’m sorry I crashed out over Churu treats and called you a bitch.
Sleep was pretty elusive after that.
I self-soothed with an extra-long, scalding hot shower and more caffeine than should be consumed by a human.
Wired for sound, I got dressed and made the fifteen-minute walk from my house to the diner so I could fill the dessert case for the day before we opened and all hell broke loose.
We’re busy, from open ‘til close, seven days a week because June’s isn’t just a Barrett institution—it’s also, much like The Mill, one of the few places in this town creekers will cross the river for.
June blames my cinnamon rolls and double crust blackberry pie and I can’t say she’s wrong.
Business has tripled since I took over the baking after Dent died.
“Double shiftsss,” I hiss my favorite Tim Curry quote at her with a ghoulish grin. “No breaksss.”
When my impersonation earns me nothing more than an uncomfortable laugh, I shake my head on a sigh. “No, Melinda, I haven’t.”
“Want me to take ‘em so you can?” She offers, just eager enough to rouse my suspicions.
Tossing a look at the busy dining room on the other side of the counter, I fight back the urge to roll my eyes because as soon as I do, her willingness to take my table so I can go stare at a wall for fifteen, much needed, minutes becomes painfully obvious.
“So, which one is it?” I ask, dragging my gaze away from the table full of Montgomerys June sat in my station to give my co-worker a pleasant smile.
She’s new. June hired her as a counter jockey but I can already tell she’s not going to last. If she’s not hiding in the bathroom, on her phone, she’s making eyes at just about every eligible man that walks through the door.
The former is irritating while the latter is just plain exhausting.
“Which one what?” She asks innocently like she has no idea what I’m talking about.
“Which Montgomery are you hoping to ride like a hobby horse?” I ask, my tone as pleasant as my smile.
“Cade or Colt?” When she just stares at me, the hinge on her jaw loosened in disbelief, I have to swallow a laugh.
“I hope it’s not Jensen.” Leaning in, I drop my tone into a stage whisper.
“She might not look like much, but I can promise you, Sloane won’t go down without a fight. ”
“You’re so weird,” Melinda gripes at me, her cheeks stung with embarrassment because, yeah—I might be weird but she’s painfully obvious.
“You should meet my cat.” Shoving the coffee scoop into her hand I give her a long suffering sigh. “Here—how about you finish making the coffee since it’s your job anyway and then you can take my break for me.”
“Are you being serious?” Taking the scoop I’m offering her, Melinda narrows her gaze slightly. “I can never tell with you.”
“I know,” I answer her gravely. “It’s because I’m weird.” Before she can agree with me, I give her an impatient nod while I start to move away from her. “I’m being serious. Take my break. Hell, take my lunch while you’re at it.”
Scoop in hand, she keeps scowling. “But?—”
“I’ll watch the counter.” I throw her a bright smile over my shoulder on my way to my table full of Montgomerys. “Don’t hurry back.”
Turning away from her without waiting for an answer, I weave my way across the packed dining room to the long row of tables June keeps bunched together for larger parties.
Stopping at the head of it, next to Jensen, I push my mouth into a smile.
“Welcome in,” I say, forcing as much friendly into my tone as I can muster.
“I’m sorry,” Jensen says without qualification before aiming a flat, irritated smile in my direction.
“For the record this wasn’t my idea.” He doesn’t elaborate but he doesn’t have to.
I know exactly whose idea this was. He has more tattoos than I can count, an eleven-year-old son, and a parole officer.
I wouldn’t take his money last night so now he’s going to make me work for it.
Typical Cade.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I say, hanging onto my friendly for dear life because while I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I had to cross enemy lines to work with the Montgomerys, I don’t really want to talk to them, let alone serve them.
Looking at an equally apologetic looking Sloane, I feel my smile catch hold.
We got to know each other while I was her home nurse after she was released from the hospital last year. I like her. “Hey, Sloane.”
“Hey.” Reaching out she drops a hand on my forearm. “I know Riv already said it, but I’d really like it if you showed up tonight. You’re always running out of the Mill so fast after your shift, I feel like we haven’t had a chance to catch up in ages.”
“Oh, I don’t—” Already shaking my head, I level a quick look down the table to find Sera, sitting beside her, pretending not to listen.
Looking back at Sloane, I give her a shrug.
“We’ll see,” I say, hedging my response.
“It really depends on how it goes around here.” Flashing her a non-committal smile, I tilt my head at her water glass. “Are you good with water, or can I?—”
“Gemma, honey, how are you doing?” Penny Montgomery, matriarch and mother to the banes of my existence asks me from the other side of the table.
The genuine concern I hear in her tone is like a punch in the gut, the sudden lack of air it leaves behind sends a sharp prickle to stab at the back of my eyelids.
She and her ex-husband, Cal, came to Dent’s funeral and to the wake afterward.
She brought a chicken enchilada casserole that I’m not ashamed to say I hid from the other grievers and ate in the tub after everyone finally went home.
“I’m doing fine, ma’am.” Offering her a quick nod, I force myself to hold her gaze while Colt shifts uncomfortably in his seat, Sera stares off into middle space, and Cade stares at me.
Ignoring him, I force my shoulders to relax.
I should’ve let Melinda take the table. It would’ve been an absolute shitshow but at least I wouldn’t have to stand here and endure small town pleasantries with my mortal enemies. “How are you?”
“I’m doing just fine.” Penny flicks a quick, withering glance at her daughter while everyone else buries their nose in their menus. “How’s Beck?”
“He’s famous.” I give her a flat smile to cover up the fact that I have no idea how my brother is because I stopped answering his phone calls and I don’t watch TMZ.
Penny graciously laughs like I made a joke. “And your mom?”
“Still bugging me to sell Dent’s house and move back across the river,” I answer her honestly.
“Still hoping she can talk me into college. She’s in Paris right now, I think.
” She left me a voicemail last week, letting me know she was starting her annual European tour. As usual, she asked me to go with her.
I miss you, Gemma. I love you and wish you’d talk to me…
Penny raises her eyebrows slightly at my I think because I should know where my own mother is and the fact that I don’t speaks volumes about our relationship.
“Well, while college isn’t for everyone, I think you’d do quite well in school,” she tells me, her soft blue gaze sharpening slightly. “And Emily?”
I can’t help it. When his mother says her name, I look right at Cade.
He’s not looking at me anymore. He’s looking at his mom like she just pulled a gun on him.
“Em is doing great.” An exaggeration, I’m sure, but I don’t care.
This is me, metaphorically kicking Cade Montgomery in the balls and I want to kiss his mother for making it happen.
“She and her husband are insanely happy. He’s an attorney and she teaches the sixth grade. ”
“I’m in the fifth grade,” Scarlett, Sera’s daughter pipes up, next to her mother. She’s the spitting image of Sera—dark hair and bright green eyes. “but I’ll be in the sixth next.”
“No shit, Sherlock, that’s how numbers work,” Gunner, Cade’s son mutters under his breath before looking up at me. “Can I have a Dr. Pepper?”
Mouth open to say something to an eleven-year-old that could probably get me fired, Cade answers him before I can. “I heard that,” he says in a tone that doesn’t carry any further than my ears. “You can have water.”
“But—” Gunner shoots a look at his dad, ready to argue but the look on Cade’s face makes him think better of it. Slumping back in his seat on a loud sigh, Gunner manages to look contrite. “Yes, sir.”
Looking at Scarlett, I give her a smile.
“You’d like my friend, Emily—she’s a really good teacher.
” I have no idea if it’s true. I haven’t seen Emily in real life since she left Barrett, before our senior year, but I say it anyway.
Ignoring the fact that everyone else is staring at me, I clear my throat.
“Now, besides Gun’s water, can I get y’all started on drinks or are you ready to order? ”