“It should have been you. You did Kent’s job for years without the recognition. Now with him gone, the job should have been yours. But no, they bring in some twelve-year-old who doesn’t know a thing about management.” Anne’s voice was harder now.
I put the last coffee on the tray and ripped off my gloves. Ringing up the order, I shook my head. “I was a cubicle dweller for ten years before I dropped out and bought this place. Promoting the wrong person is a grand tradition in corporate law.”
Leslie handed me the credit card. “No matter. I’m a few years away from retirement, they pay me well, and when the day’s done, I get to go home to my husband. Kent put in too many hours at that job to make it look enticing.”
“It’s still not fair. You should sue the bank.” Anne wasn’t giving up, not yet.
I ripped off the receipt and gave the slip and a pen to Leslie. After she signed, she picked up the tray.
“I can deliver those.” I stuffed the receipt in the drawer and reached forward.
Leslie moved faster than I’d imagined the larger woman could. “You didn’t know I was a waitress for ten years, did you?” She smiled at me and the two walked back to the sunny table.
As I watched the women talk, I realized I’d missed a chance to talk to Anne about her frogs. I studied the woman. She’d lost even more weight since the last time she’d come in the shop. All over a man. She’d been in love with the guy and he’d just used her. Kent had a lot to answer for as he stood in front of Saint Peter.
The door flew open and Darla strolled in, directly toward me.
“Uh-oh.” I let the words escape before I realized I’d spoken.
“Now, why do you look so worried?” Darla smiled as she climbed on a stool. “Pour me a cup of coffee and come sit with me. I’ve got an idea.”
“That sounds ominous,” I replied, but I poured her coffee and one for myself. Typically midmornings were slow and the bank crowd might be my only customers, especially on a Wednesday.
Darla sipped the black liquid and sighed. “No matter how I try, I can’t make coffee as good as you do. What’s your secret?”
“The beans. We have a magic coffee bean tree that sprouts at night in the parking lot behind the store. We pick our beans right before midnight for best results.” I sipped my own cup and watched her.
“You’re a funny girl. I should have given you a bigger part in the murder mystery play.” Darla pulled a piece of bright pink card stock out of her satchel. “Put this up in your window.”
I glanced at the announcement and frowned. “We’re doing the dinner theater next week? Don’t you think that’s a little insensitive?”
“Then I won’t invite his ex-wife or girlfriends.” The edges of Darla’s lips curled as she let the words register. I looked up in shock. “Don’t look like that. I am a journalist, for goodness’ sake. Did you and Greg think you could keep Kent’s love life a secret?”
Memories of Greg’s fury over Darla’s front-page reporting of the murder tugged at my mind. He’d thought she had an informant on the police payroll. Could I figure out who was feeding her spicy tidbits by playing along? I decided being coy wasn’t one of my strong points. “Whatever.” I tapped my nail on the poster. “I don’t know, we haven’t even had a full run-through of the play yet.”
“You’re reading my mind.” Darla glanced at the impromptu bank meeting near the window. She reached into the satchel, pulled out a notebook, and uncapped her pen. “Practice is tonight at seven. You think your guy will be available? Or is he chasing some hot lead?”
“Good try, but I’m not giving you anything.” I amended my statement. “Even if I did know anything. Greg’s been holding his facts close to the vest on this one.”
“You mean his cards.”
I scrunched my face, not understanding what cards had to do with a murder investigation. “What?”
“The saying is, he holds his cards close to his vest.” Scribbling in her notebook, she waved me off. “Never mind. Just be at the winery at seven tonight. I’ll buy the beer.”
I watched as Darla picked up her coffee and strolled over to the table filled with the bank employees. I was too far away to hear what she said, but the group laughed and Darla pulled up a chair. I’d never seen her in action before, except when she was trying to needle me for information. I sat down on the couch to read until someone needed me, losing interest in Darla and her new friends somewhere around page 4 in the mystery.
When Toby arrived to take over, the shop was empty and I’d read about half of the book. “Research or marketing?”