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At two she sent the waitress home, then helped Peaches clean up. Whatever goat cheese was left in the deli case would go into the freezer for the weekend while the deli meats would go into the cooler. There were only a few pastries left, and she’d take them home for breakfast rather than using them for crumbs.
After Peaches left and they’d taken care of the few remaining chores, she herded Carol to the Toyota. There was a mall in Barrington, and she was looking forward to a little retail therapy, plus shopping for school clothes to get their minds off their problems.
They had dinner at a fast food place, something Ruth usually avoided, but these were desperate times. Carol had been quiet all afternoon, accepting Ruth’s advice on clothes shopping without much comment, which was almost unheard of. Ruth even picked up a new pair of shoes for herself. Granted, they were ballet flats and about as far from exciting as possible, but they still seemed a little like a reward for surviving an incredibly tough week.
When they got home, Carol said she was going upstairs to read. Ruth let her go without comment. They’d had a lot of time together that day, but they hadn’t talked about David or California. Still, just being together was reassuring, at least for Ruth.
She hoped Carol felt the same way.
She watched a little television, not that she paid too much attention, but having the set droning away in the background was comforting. Having some wine was a possibility, but one she rejected. Drinking when she was this edgy was probably a bad idea.
At ten, she headed upstairs to tell Carol it was time for lights out. She knocked on her bedroom door. “Carol? Time for bed.”
She waited a couple of moments, but there was no answer. Maybe Carol had already fallen asleep with the light on. Ruth opened the door as quietly as she could, trying not to startle her if she was sleeping.
At first she couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. The bed was empty. So was the easy chair by the window, which was open.
Ruth stepped back into the hall to check the bathroom, but the room was dark.
She stared back at the bedroom again, her pulse speeding up as she began to understand. Her daughter was gone. The window was open. She could have been abducted, but knowing Carol, she doubted it. If someone had come through her window, she would have raised hell.
Which meant that Carol had gone out the window herself, climbing down the massive blue spruce tree next to the house.
Her daughter had run away. And she had no idea where to start looking for her, except to call David and see if Carol had headed for his hotel. She slid down the wall to the floor, resting her head on her knees as she tried not to be sick.
…
The final Saturday night at Black Mountain Tavern had been a bust. Or an anti-climax, depending on point of view. Liam had wondered how many employees would walk out once they found out what Stanton was planning, but everybody had stuck around for another night. Even McCullough had stayed in the kitchen. Considering that he’d lifted a bottle of bourbon from the bar before he’d started cooking, what came out of the kitchen wasn’t worth a whole lot.
Some of the tavern’s longtime customers dropped in to say goodbye, but they didn’t stick around. Stanton hadn’t done any food or drink specials, and their beer inventory was almost nonexistent anyway. By ten, the bar was mostly empty and the few tourists who’d made the mistake of coming in for dinner were finishing whatever was on their plates.
Liam started serving tequila shots to the waitresses, but they weren’t particularly interested in sticking around, either. By eleven, he was on his own.
He sighed. It wasn’t much of a finale for what had once been a damn good bar. It shouldn’t have closed down. We all deserved better than that.
He was still thinking about how he could make staying in Antero work for him. He had the germ of an idea, but he hadn’t entirely worked it out yet. Maybe cleaning up the bar would help him ponder.
He put the last tray of dirty glasses into the dishwasher and turned it on. Stanton could collect his glassware on his own, but Liam would at least wash it for him. The last bar setups would go into the garbage this time since there’d be no reason to save them and even he wasn’t desperate enough to want a dinner of maraschino cherries.
