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Guilt swamped me. They’d been packed? And Marsha sent me home. Crap.
I should call her. “Was it that bad?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “I mean, they were full and I mostly swung by to say hi since I was over there.”
Really? I frowned.
“What?” Rachel grinned. “I’ve been to Mason’s a lot over the last couple of months, you thought I was just going there for the burgers?”
Honestly, I hadn’t really thought about it. But I supposed she was right. I had seen her a lot over the summer. “Sorry, I guess I’ve been living in my own bubble.”
“It happens.” Rachel let me right off the hook. “Course, now you can make it up to me and make my shake extra thick when I come in next time, because it’s not for the food.”
I laughed. “The shakes are already thick, if you want it that thick, I’ll just scoop you some ice cream.”
“That would work. I like ice cream.”
We both grinned. It was ridiculous and funny, and maybe just what I needed to hear. “Where do you work?”
“Me?” She raised her brows. “Why?”
“Well, if you’re going to stop by Mason’s to see me, seems only fair, that I go harass you at work, too.”
“Oh, so it’s harassment now.” Her voice warmed. “I see how it is.”
“Well, depends, can I do my homework there?” God knew, I had a lot of it.
Rachel snort-laughed, and I snickered. “You can come by, but it’s not glamorous.”
“And working at Mason’s is?” I raised my eyebrows. “I smell like burger grease and french fries at the end of every shift.”
“But you love it,” Rachel pointed out. “You’re always smiling and nice, even when it’s insane.”
“That’s the job,” I told her. “People respond to happy.” Even when I was dying on the inside. Course, it was harder to be happy then. “So where do you work?”
“The grocery store,” Rachel admitted. “Three times a week, nothing big, you know. But it gives me extra cash. I didn’t want to work retail, but I like the folks who shop at Dell’s Grocery, and I get a discount. So if you ever need deli meat or something, I’m your girl.”
I got a discount at Mason’s, too. Technically a free meal each day I worked. Most of the time, I didn’t take advantage of it, because who wanted to eat the same burgers over and over and over again?
“Good to know. I like Dell’s, we don’t go there as often cause they’re expensive.”
“Local places are—I mean, Mason’s isn’t a chain either.” Which was true.
“What days do you work?”
Rachel grinned. “Hey, I never asked your schedule.”
“What you stalked Mason’s every day to find out when I worked?”
“No, because that would be creepy,” she said easily. “I went in and asked when you’d be there next, and I heard you tell Coop that you were working weekends last spring.”
Oh.
“Okay, that’s way more reasonable.”
“Right?” Rachel canted her head and looked back to where the pool was, not that we could see it. There were shrill screams of laughter punching through the darkness, and someone turned the music up. If they kept that up, the cops were going to be called.
It had happened before.
