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“Good, thanks,” Ash said. “By the way, Carla’s order will be in by lunchtime, if she wants to come and get it tomorrow afternoon.”
“Ooh, thanks. I’ll let her know in the morning,” the older woman replied. “How’s the B&B, Charlotte? Do you have it back yet?”
I nodded. “I got the keys this morning.”
“Good. Bloody ridiculous of them to keep it for this long, if you ask me,” she said, leaning against the counter and shaking her head. “The Fox Point police force could get shot at by a lone gunman and still not know who pulled the trigger.”
I fought back a smile. That was quite the analogy.
Did anyone in this town have a good opinion of the police?
All right, so I’d only heard Ash and Carolyn’s, but I’d bet they weren’t the only ones who thought they were useless.
“It’s fine. I can’t do a lot there anyway, so it wasn’t the end of the world.”
“But still. It’s not like you killed the sorry bastard,” Carolyn replied.
“Lyn!” Walter, her husband and the resident fish frying expert, scolded her. “Don’t speak ill of the dead.”
“If he didn’t want to be spoken ill of in death, he should have been a better person when he was alive,” she retorted smartly.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Steph said from behind me.
I turned to look at her. “Hi, Steph.”
Carolyn froze. “Hi, Stephanie. We were just, uh…”
“Talking shit about your dead ex,” Ash offered.
That… was not the most helpful thing she’d ever said.
“That’s why you don’t speak ill of the dead,” Walter grumbled, somehow audible over the telltale sizzle of red-hot oil that’d just had something fresh lowered into it.
It was hard to argue with him.
“You should hear what I’ve said about him,” Steph said nonchalantly. “Surprisingly cathartic.”
Carolyn’s cheeks flamed a bright red. “I’m sorry, love.”
Steph waved it away. “Don’t be. Strangely, it makes me feel better to know everyone else thinks he was a horrid shitbag, too.”
Well.
Tell us how you really feel.
“Have you ordered?” she asked me and Ash, and I nodded, so she turned back to Carolyn. “Two fish and chips with spicy curry sauce, please, Carolyn.”
Still embarrassed, the older woman nodded and rung up the order. Steph tapped her card against the machine, and Carolyn put the little note with the order on the board at the back for Walter to cook.
“How are you?” Ash asked her, albeit a bit hesitantly.
Right.
Steph hadn’t been involved in the community much.
“I’m okay,” Steph replied with a smile. “You own the art shop, don’t you?”
Crap.
