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Craving Silence

Page 73

by Freya Barker

“Not at the apartment,” I snap.

Dana immediately drops a settling hand on my arm.

“Rick’s been staying here. I’m still getting used to living out here by myself, so he’s been kind enough to keep me company until I’m comfortable.”

Damn, she’s throwing herself on the sword for me.

“I’m sure Rick has no complaints about the arrangement,” Ma offers with a cheeky wink.

I just grunt and shake my head. I’m not even going to try and address that.

“Come on, then; I’ll drive you.”

“And leave Dana here by herself? No, mi hijo, I can drive myself.” She holds out her hand. “Just give me the keys.”

“How about we all go?” Dana suggests, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “We can drop in at the pub, have Len make us all an Irish coffee for dessert, and that’ll give us a chance to say hi to my father as well.”

This is so far from the way I envisioned my Friday night playing out, it’s not funny. But judging from Dana’s smile and the excited look on my mother’s face, my vote isn’t required, so I’m just going to go put my coat and boots on.

We drop Ma’s car off at my place and I quickly show her where everything is, before we all pile into my vehicle and head to The Kerrigan.

It’s busy, as to be expected on a Friday night, but I manage to find a parking spot half a block down, in front of Strange Brew. Lola waves through the window when she sees us pass on the sidewalk.

“Who’s that?” Ma asks.

“Lola,” Dana answers, hooking her arm through mine. “She manages the coffee shop for my friend Beth, who owns it.”

“Nice.”

“And Beth is married to Hugo, who works with your son at the sheriff’s department, and their boss is Savvy Colter, who is my bestie. She and I grew up in Silence,” Dana adds with a grin. “You’ll see this is still a small town, there is always a connection.”

I notice Ma listening closely to Dana’s banter—and filing the information, I’m sure—as we make our way to the pub. I open the door for the women and can hear Buck’s boisterous hello to Dana before I can get inside.

In a glance around the bar, I recognize Hugo’s son, Carson, with his girlfriend cozying up in one of the occupied booths in the back, a couple of the town’s first responders grouped around the dartboard, and one of the families living in my building sitting at a table finishing dinner. At the bar are some of the usual suspects: Len, Buck, Randy—our fire chief—and Milt Sterling, who owns a bunch of cabins out on Watts Lake and pops in every so often. I lift a hand in greeting.

I usually sit at the far end of the bar, but I’m not here alone, so I guide my mother to an empty table against the wall, while Dana pops into the back.

When we are seated, Kate, one of the servers who helps out on the weekends, stops by the table to take our order.

“Hey, Rick. Can I get you folks something?”

“Want that Irish coffee, Ma?”

“Sure. Normally coffee this late keeps me up, but I figure the whiskey will counter the effect,” she adds with a grin for the server.

“I hear you,” Kate returns.

“I’ll have three Irish coffees,” I order. “Dana is gonna join us.”

She nods and retreats to the bar.

“Where did Dana go?” Ma wants to know when Kate is gone.

“She went to the kitchen to say hi to her dad and let him know we’re here.”

“He cooks?”

She seems genuinely surprised.