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On her way out the door, she hung the do not disturb sign out even though she had everything she owned in the bag on her shoulder. The morning sun had started to melt some of the snow that had fallen over the last few days. The most recent storm system had moved on, but not before dumping another three inches on the city. Hopefully the weatherman was right, and they would get a break.
The old 4Runner was constantly grumbling in protest at the frigid temperatures, and she really couldn’t afford to have it go belly up. Not when she’d amassed what felt like a small fortune in the week since taking the job at the Orchid.
It paid so well and tips were so good she might not even have to stay as long as she’d originally planned before she could start heading south. She’d found a few smallish towns in North Carolina that looked promising. Even some along the South Carolina border that might do if she dared go that far.
She held her breath as the SUV sputtered to life and then coughed. That was not a good sound.
“Come on, baby. A few more weeks. Then I promise to take you somewhere warmer.”
Pulling out of the parking lot, she followed the flow of midmorning traffic, already knowing which streets to take to avoid the worst of the high-volume areas. One thing that had served her well in this long stretch of life on the run was her memory.
She could memorize and recall almost anything. Lists, maps, faces, details, patterns. Sometimes it was a blessing, like being able to remember multiple routes to and from a location so she wasn’t always driving the same way twice. Other times it was a curse, like at night when she relived her past in her nightmares.
They’d gotten better. But they never strayed far, always there to swoop in and remind her why she was running, why she couldn’t stop yet. Why she would probably never be able to stop.
That thought depressed her. That she might have to keep doing this for the rest of her life. Moving from place to place every few months, always looking over her shoulder, always wondering if they would find her.
When she’d first made this plan, she hadn’t thought beyond the immediate need to get away, to be free, to find safety. Anything beyond the next right decision hadn’t even entered her mind. If it had, she would never have been able to leave, rooted in place by the sheer number of choices she’d be faced with, to say nothing of the difficulty of those choices.
The employee lot behind the Orchid had been freshly plowed and sprinkled with ice melt, and Delaney wondered if James did that himself or hired a company to do it. He had to hire someone. She couldn’t picture the man who drove a brand new Porsche SUV and wore expensive clothes, casual as they were, out here doing that kind of manual labor in the cold.
She parked at the corner of the lot, a few spaces from the door, and tucked her duffel under a blanket on the floorboard of the backseat. She preferred to bring it inside with her, but they didn’t have employee lockers, so she’d had to satisfy herself with her second option.
The security the blanket afforded her was as much an illusion as anything else. If someone really and truly wanted what you had, they’d find a way to take it. But at least the car would look empty if someone peered into the windows.
She wrapped her scarf around her neck and shoved her hands into her pockets to dash to the door, knocking on the employee entrance and squirming against the wind that cut through her jeans and sent goosebumps flooding over her skin.
Addy’s smile was as bright as her mermaid blue hair when she opened the door. “Right on time as always. You can settle the argument we’re having.”
“We wouldn’t be arguing at all,” Clara called from the back of the kitchen where she sat rolling clean silverware into napkins, “if you would admit that I’m right.”
“I can’t,” Addy said, returning to her task of prepping ingredients for the lunch crowd. “Because you are decidedly not right.”
Delaney chuckled as she unwound her scarf and slipped out of her jacket, hanging both on a peg by the door. They reminded her of sisters, though they were technically cousins through some complicated family tree she still didn’t quite understand.
She liked them both with their quick teases and inside jokes they were more than happy to explain. It had been a long time since she’d worked with women close to her own age. Most of the waitresses who worked in the greasy spoon diners where she could get temporary jobs were old enough to be her mother.
She carried her apron to the table where Clara was rolling silverware and started to help.
“Okay,” Delaney said, reaching for a black napkin and folding it into a triangle. “What are you arguing about this time?”
“We’re not arguing,” Clara grumbled, setting her finished roll into a bus tub. “We’re having a spirited discussion.”
“That’s usually code for there was yelling right before I got here.”
“We hadn’t quite reached yelling yet,” Addy assured her. “But Clara thinks Batman is the best superhero, and she is obviously incorrect because the best superhero is Captain America.”
Clara snorted and rolled her eyes. “Captain America is an obnoxious goody two shoes.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t diminish his superhero capabilities.”
“You didn’t say we were picking them based on abilities, just who was the best overall.”
“Right.” Addy dumped the shrimp she’d been deveining into a container and covered it with plastic wrap. “And the best is Captain America.”
“The best is Batman because he doesn’t even have super strength! He doesn’t have any powers at all! He fights bad guys because he knows it’s the right thing to do.”
“Please.”
