Page 43 of Lucky Haven

Mercy slides a cup of coffee in front of me, because she remembers what people drink. And if she saw what happened outside, she doesn’t bring it up, bless her.

I order the french toast, then pull out the book I’m currently reading and drink my coffee while I wait for breakfast.

Mercy’s just refilled my mug and my order has hit the pass—French toast with berries—when Cash’s oldest brother, Ridge, strides through the door.

Mercy grabs my plate and turns around, then goes stock still. “Oh!”

“Need to talk to you,” he says gruffly.

“Of course.” She sets my plate in front of me, then glances around the diner before gesturing for him to follow her back into the kitchen.

Mercy was in grade nine when Cash’s family moved to town. The same grade as Zane, a few years behind Ridge, but that didn’t stop her from falling head over innocent heels in love with the surly rough-and-tumble fifteen-year-old who wanted to fight anyone and everyone.

I was only nine at the time, but that’s old enough to catch the edges of rumours.

And I was twelve when Ridge left again, joining the army as soon as he graduated from high school. Old enough to know that he’d left Mercy behind without a second glance.

She waited for him, though.

Waited a long time.

But the same year I left for college, a mature student at twenty-two, Mercy gave up waiting for Ridge and married her now ex-husband.

At some point between then and now, that marriage fell apart.

People whisper about that, too. It happened right around the same time Ridge returned to Dragonfly Creek.

But people whisper about everything.

Let them talk.

It’s hard, though.

I stab my fork into my french toast and focus on the luxury of having someone else make this for me. I try really hard not to listen to the murmurs coming from the kitchen. And maybe if I wasn’t sitting in the chair closest to the door, and if I didn’t know what was happening in two weeks, I wouldn’t pick up the few clear words and string them together.

Special…morning…secret…Jamboree.

Ridge is inviting Mercy to Zane and Hope’s wedding.

“You’re family,” he says gruffly, loud enough that those words are crystal clear.

“I’m not,” she says back. “And I’m working right now.”

He storms out of the kitchen, his face taut and his mouth a hard, flat line.

I focus on my coffee, because whatever this is, it’s not for me. It’s private.

But I can’t help but wonder why Ridge chose to have that conversation with Mercy in the middle of breakfast service.

Chapter Thirteen

Cash

Jeb is standing just inside the bay, hands in the pockets of pants so aggressively polite they’re probably called slacks. And it looks like he ironed his polo shirt. A lot of effort for half past eight in the morning.

I grunt in acknowledgement as I stride into the garage. “Martin.”

“I wanted to follow up on the cable replacement.”