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I take my beer and settle onto the lounge chair. Will glances at my book. There’s a question there, one I answer by shoving it aside. He takes the other chair, and we sip our beers and stare up into the night sky.
After a few minutes, Will says, “If you really want to know who’s planting fake dead bodies, Casey could investigate. Sheisa detective.”
“Nah. I just wanted everyone to know the joke has run its course.”
“I have a suspicion who’s behind it, and if I’m right, they’ll stop now that you grumbled.”
I grunt and take a swig of beer. That was my hope. Grumbling and glowering is a useful strategy. It’s like a grizzly huffing, saying you’ve gotten too close and it’s time to back off.
I’m about to speak again when the door opens.
“There you are,” Phil says. “I need to talk to you both.”
Will waves at the third lounge chair. Phil’s gaze shoots over the railing toward the campfire.
“You don’t want to be overheard?” Will waggles his brows. “It’s time for secret guy talk, huh? I’ll start. How ’bout them Bruins?”
“That’s a sports team, isn’t it?” Phil says.
Will jabs a finger at him. “That’s supposed to be Eric’s line. You’re both shit at this. Let’s try again. Secret guy talk. How about sex?”
“I’m in favor of it,” I say.
“Agreed,” Phil says. “Now that we’ve established that, would you come inside, please? I’d rather discuss this with you both in private.”
* * *
“It’s about the bakery,”Phil says as he spreads the town plans on a dining room table.
I peer at the maps. While we’re using Rockton as our guide, we’ve revamped after endless discussions. There’s a commissary with both takeout and table service, instead of takeout and a separate restaurant. There’s still a bar, of course—we’d never dare get rid of that—but it also acts as the new bakery, with a takeout window and indoor service, a portion of the bar open for those whose work schedules allow a leisurely coffee break.
“Is Isabel concerned about it being in the bar?” Will asks.
His voice expresses obvious doubt. If Isabel has changed her mind,everyonewould hear about it. Like in Rockton, Isabel will be in charge of the bar, brewery and alcohol sales. She agreed that having a bar plus a separate bakery—two services open at opposite hours—didn’t make the best use of space. She’s allowing the bakery to be incorporated for a small cut of the profits. It also gives her a separate home, instead of living over the bar, which I think is what really made her agree.
“The concern isn’t Isabel’s,” Phil says. “It’s mine.”
Will and I glance at each other. We don’t point out that Phil shouldn’thaveany concerns, since he swears he’s not going to the new Rockton. Yeah... I’ve seen how he looks at Isabel. He’s going. He just doesn’t know it yet. And when he does, I win a very nice bet against Casey, who’s apparently not as good at detecting the signs that a man is head over heels for a woman.
“Okay...” Will says carefully. “So the problem is...?”
“While I appreciate Casey’s suggestion to move the bakery into the bar, I feel as if we’re overlooking the obvious solution.”
“Which is...?” Will says.
“Get rid of the bakery.”
Will stares at him for a moment before saying, “You’re serious?”
Phil’s brows furrow, not understanding the question. “Of course.”
Will leans back in his chair, laughing. “Well, now I know why you wanted to have this conversation in private. You don’t dare suggest this anywherenearCasey.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No? How about we call her in here then?”
“I do not have any issues with telling Casey. I only wanted— Where are you going?”
