“Yeah, I thought you’d probably know if anyone in town is hiring.”
She turns and grabs a few plates heaping with eggs and a variety of breakfast meat, then drops them to a man with his nose buried in a newspaper and the man closest to me.
“I don’t understand.”
She wouldn’t. I shrug. “Are Deirdre and Sam still in town?” I cringe at her sharp look. I haven’t spoken to my two childhood best friends since before I left. I shouldn’t be surprised that Dorothy knows that. “College was busy and I . . . I just lost touch, ya know?”
She doesn’t respond to my lame excuse, her silence speaking volumes of displeasure, then turns to a steaming bowl the cook just put up in the window and places it in front of me.
“Deirdre moved to the valley . . .”
Oatmeal with a scoop of brown sugar, raisins, and a side of cream. She remembered.
“Thank you.”
“. . . got married and is pregnant with her second kid.”
I blink, shocked. “Wow, didn’t realize she was in a such a hurry.”
“How long has it been since you were last here?” She’s asking, but she knows. She just wants to hear me say it.
“Five years.”
She lifts a brow. “What else would she do?”
My inner feminist clenches her fists. “Um . . . I don’t know, go to college.”
“Not everyone is itchin’ to run away from their past, Shy.”
My spoon drops hard against the bowl of oatmeal. “That’s not what I’ve been d-d-doing.” I slam my mouth shut to avoid spewing the lies that threaten to burst free.
Her eyes go soft and she nods. “No one would blame you if you were. God knows after your mom—”
“What about Sam?”
She allows my subject change and blows out a long breath. “Sam’s been working at Pistol Pete’s. Still single, although she’s stickin’ like glue to Dustin Miller . . .” Her mouth twists as if she just sucked on a lemon. “If you know what I mean.”
“He’s like Payson royalty. I’m not surprised.”
Dustin’s family owns the feed shop here in town. We dated in high school and I had a feeling he and Sam were into each other. I wonder if they even waited for my back tires to cross the county line before hooking up.
“He’s doing well.” She makes a clicking sound with her mouth. “Got promoted after his grandfather passed away two summers ago.”
“Impressive.” Born into a family business and taking over the reins. Takes absolutely zero skill or motivation. And yet I’m the loser for leaving town to get an education. “I need to get ahold of Sam.”
“She works the early shift during the week. They open at eight in the morning, so you should be able to find her over there, although . . . not sure why you’d bother looking for a job when you got familial ties to the most successful business in town, but that ain’t my concern.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Everything in this town is her concern.
I spoon a few bites of warm oatmeal into my mouth, and the creamy sweetness reminds me of my childhood, coming here on Sundays with my family. I sink into the memory and can almost smell my momma’s lavender-scented lotion.
Dorothy and I small talk about the past while I eat enough oatmeal to be polite, even though memories of my mom fill my stomach. I change the subject to the Payson job market. It seems my options for work are the local bar or mucking stalls at the local ranches. I consider Pistol Pete’s. It’s a bar, yeah, but it also hosts live bands that come up from Phoenix to play on the weekends and draws a pretty good crowd. Not the best of opportunities, but I need to keep my eyes on the goal. Save up enough money to move to the valley, get myself set up in an apartment with enough cash to live on while I beg my way back into broadcasting.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and practically sends me out of my seat. I fish it out and look to see Trevor’s name on the caller ID.
“Shit.” I hit Accept and press the phone to my ear. “Hey, sorry I didn’t call you last night. I don’t get service out at my dad’s place.”
“Hey, honey. No biggie. Figured you’d be getting all caught up with the local hillbillies.” He chuckles. “What did you guys do last night? Cow tipping?”
What a dick. I mean, I make fun of Payson people, but I’m allowed to. They’re my people.
“Nah, just . . .” I dip my head and spot Dorothy across the diner, far enough away that she can’t hear me. “Got in a fight with my dad—”
“Did you hear about the redneck who got married?”
“What?”
“Yeah, he took his wife to the honeymoon suite, found out she was a virgin, so he kicked her out and had the wedding annulled.”
“Trevor—”
“Said, ‘If you’re not good enough for your own family, you’re not good enough for me.’” He cackles obnoxiously.
I pull the phone away from my ear. “Funny.”