AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Fourteen
“I’ll have the chicken and mushroom pie and a glass of your house red. And I’m sitting myself down right over there.” Aggie McKey peered up at Sarah from the other side of the bar, her hand pointing to one of Maynard’s empty dark wood dinner tables, the octogenarian’s cheeks a tad rosier than usual.
“A red wine? Are you sure about that?” Sarah raised a brow and held a lighthearted smile. “You’re usually a gin drinker, Aggie. Celebrating something special today, are you?”
Aggie’s eyes glittered, and she looked about as excited as a teenager who’d inexplicably found herself seated next to her high school crush. Except no one else was beside her, and she and Sarah had done this dance a number of times over the years.
“Today’s the day Walder and I had our first date, all sixty-four years ago, and I love the man more than ever.” Aggie gestured down to her pink floral dress, a crocheted white shawl over her shoulders, and her long, white braid perched on top.
Truth was, Walder Aaron McKey had been dead for a solid twenty years, seven years shy of how long Sarah had been alive, and still Aggie celebrated every first date and wedding anniversary.
“Well, in that case…” Sarah gnawed on her lower lips as if to weigh up her next words, even though this was still part of the dance. “This meal’s on me.”
Aggie wasn’t the only one to think her relationship with Walder deserved celebrating. That kind of love just didn’t exist anymore. Sarah could always spare a meal and a glass of wine as her own little tribute.
“Oh, you’re always such a dear.” Aggie chuckled and reached across the bar, soon wrapping her age-affected fingers around Sarah’s palm. “Walder didn’t always make life easy for me, don’t cha know, and I sure didn’t for him either. Heck, I sure am happy I met him, though. You’ll see just what I mean for yourself one day.”
Aggie’s stare turned still and all-seeing, as it tended to do from time to time, her blue-green eyes seeming to peer into the depths of Sarah’s soul. The weird part was the old woman did tend to get things right with a freaky level of accuracy, but in this case, Sarah wanted her to be wrong.
She returned a half grin, certain she’d never come to understand the kind of love Aggie spoke of. Not with the way her luck went. Not that she intended on skipping down that brimstone-covered path of delusion, anyway.
“I’ll look forward to it.” Her lie now was about not letting her somber view of reality dampen Aggie’s moment. “Until then, I’ll go get you that wine and tell Gordon to serve you some pie.”
She spun away to avoid any more of Aggie’s sage advice and pep talking, making a beeline for the back of the bar where food orders piled up one after another. The dinner crowd was building, and as usual, she needed to stay on top of her staff. She was short on bar staff as it was, at least until more cover arrived in another hour. No time to think about absent family. Or injured exes. Or even Dean. Or his promises of “friendship”… whatever that meant… thank goodness.
“Sarah, I need to talk to you.”
She jumped at Peter Marlin’s voice, the old sheriff half-shouting across the bar at her, his face sporting an unusually serious expression. Her heart strained, and the ruckus around her seemed to die. Peter didn’t usually come in wearing his uniform—and paired with his sober glare, and demanding she talk to him—something was wrong.
The order tickets in her hands slid from her fingers and onto the bar top. “Why are you here? What’s happened? Is it Blaine?”
The sheriff frowned over his shoulder and then back at her. “Blaine’s fine, but is there somewhere private we can talk? You won’t want anyone hearing what I have to say.”
She paused at the sheriff’s softened tone, a tone that hinted at sympathy. What would he have to say to her that was urgent enough to disrupt the dinner service and required a private meeting?
She tilted her head, gesturing for him to follow her through the kitchen. A kitchen that ultimately had Gordon clinging about in his usual flurry of activity, the sounds short-lived by the time she and the sheriff made it outside to her usual quiet spot behind Maynard’s.
“What’s this about?” She spun around to Peter. Despite his assurances, she couldn’t shake the fear that something terrible had happened. Something with Blaine.
The cool night air brushed her face, and the sheriff cleared his throat, his gaze pointed down in clear avoidance. Her heart jolted. What was there to avoid?
Blaine had been nothing but good to her. He’d been safe and reliable, nothing like Dean with his love of crushing her carefully constructed and controlled little world.
Blaine, with his unflappable morals—he would have stayed with her if she’d so demanded—even if his love belonged to Emilia and staying caused him total misery. His selflessness came back to haunt her now. Despite their clumsy ending, anything that hurt him still hurt her.
“I have some… um…” Peter peered past the beige brim of his sheriff’s hat and over to her. “Sensitive information.”
“Okay.” She stuffed her hands into her dark denim pockets. “Shoot. What is it?”
His lip stiffened, as though he tried to hold on to whatever he had to say for as long as possible. “I need you to confirm where you were on Sunday, around midday to be exact.”
Her muscles turned rigid and her thoughts stalled. “You mean when the shooting happened?”
The sheriff nodded. She’d known the man her entire life, regarded Peter as her father more than her actual father. He was the last person she wanted to talk to about where she’d been.
Her face turned cold, and this time not because of the cool air. “Why do you need to know? It’s not like you suspect me of anything, do you?”
She shot forth a smile, one designed to deflect, whilst giving the impression she had nothing to hide.
