Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
I figured Opal had to be missing a piece or two of the puzzle. The gossip chain had a chink in its links somewhere. Whatever, I had shit to do anyway. “What time is the tile delivery coming today?”
As usual, Opal ignored me. “Rachael at the supermarket said Josie stocked up on a lot of food. Apparently, she’s not gluten free and eats plenty of carbs.”
I tossed the papers in my hands into the air. “Seriously? What the fuck? Do you people all get together for a secret meeting to discuss the comings and goings in this town? Is there a camera you have hidden somewhere to tell you when someone enters?”
“Unlike you, some of us are friendly and like to get to know a bit about the new people who come around.”
“I think it’s more like you’re all discussing other people’s lives because you don’t have one of your own.” I moved my fingers to simulate walking. “Now, find out what time the tile is coming.”
***
It was almost seven thirty by the time I stopped on my way home to pick up some dinner. The Laurel Lake Inn was a fancy restaurant by this town’s standards; you didn’t eat there dressed in dusty jeans and dirty work boots like I had on. But they made a bacon-wrapped pesto pork tenderloin that had me salivating even thinking about it, so I stopped in for takeout once a week. Usually I called in my order, but I’d forgotten my cell in the office and come straight from a jobsite.
“Hey, Syl. Can I get an order of the pork and mashed potatoes, please?”
“You got it, Fox. We’re a little busy tonight. But I’ll see if anyone else ordered the pork recently, and I’ll pull their order for you. They can wait a few more minutes.” She winked.
“Thanks. Appreciate that.”
Sylvia disappeared into the kitchen, so I figured I’d step into the bar and have a cold beer. I made it three steps inside before I locked eyes with a certain blonde. Josie was a shit driver and couldn’t carry more than five pounds, but damn, she was hard to look away from. She frowned when she saw me, which made me smile.
The restaurant might have been busy, but there were only two other people in the bar besides Josie and me. She had a plate of food in front of her and what looked like a glass of wine. I moseyed up and ordered a beer, trying my best not to look over, but that didn’t last long. My eyes snagged on her hand on the glass, her left ring finger, in particular. It was bare. I’d noticed that the other day, too.
Josie spoke without looking up. “Heard a rumor you used to play in the NHL. Is that true?”
“Who’d you hear that from?”
“The nice lady at the post office.”
Figures. That was how Frannie operated. She’d get you talking by offering information and then pry out bits and pieces of your life without you even realizing. I’d learned it long ago.
“The nice lady at the post office is a busybody who tells everyone’s business out of turn.”
“So does that mean you didn’t play hockey?”
“I did.”
She looked over and smiled. “I know. I googled you after she mentioned it.”
“Why’d you ask me if you already knew the answer?”
She shrugged. “Were you any good?”
“Didn’t Google tell you that?”
“The article I read said you were on the Olympic team.”
“You know a lot of shitty professional athletes who make an Olympic team?”
“I don’t know any shitty professional athletes at all.”
I had to crack a smile at that. She was a wiseass. And pretty. But she also seemed like a lot of work. And that was the trifecta combination I kept far away from these days. So I sipped my beer and kept quiet.
“Are you ordering food, or did you just come for that beer?” she asked a few minutes later.
“I’m picking up takeout.”
“The food is really good here.”
I nodded. “The best Laurel Lake’s got to offer. Trust me, I eat a lot of takeout.”
“You don’t like to cook?”
“Hate to clean up when the cooking’s done. Easier to pick up something on the way home.”
“I love to cook. I find it relaxing. But the oven at my house is broken. It was filled with newspapers from eight years ago, so I don’t think Mrs. Wollman was much of a cook either. I’m getting a new one delivered tomorrow.”
Sylvia walked in and put a hand on my shoulder. “Food’s ready, Fox.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right there.”
I would’ve liked to stick around, find out what else the good doctor liked to do, but that meant it was definitely time to go. Pulling a ten out of my pocket, I tossed it on the bar and waved to the bartender.
“Enjoy your meal,” Josie said.