Dance Away with Me - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,14
Now, however, her blond bob had lost its fluff and her facial bones had sharpened. Twenty years earlier she might have been succulent, but the juice had been sucked out of her.
“Tess, can I talk to you?”
“Hello, Mrs. Winchester.”
Winchester. Even he’d heard about the local boy who’d made good with some kind of start-up involving Internet domain name trading. Apparently, he’d sold the business for a fortune and used the money to finance his political career.
Tess nodded at the teenager who’d accompanied the woman. “Hi, Ava.”
And here was the current homecoming queen. Blond like her mother, but fleshed out. Round cheeks, rosy lips, in the full bloom of prettiness. She smiled at Tess, then left her mother to join two other teens at a table by the window.
“Can we talk privately?” Mrs. Winchester nodded toward the back of the store.
Tess was the only one working, but she made her way toward the minuscule hallway by the bathroom. He could see them but not hear what they were saying.
The Winchester woman did all the talking, her gestures as sharp as the rest of her. When Tess finally spoke, she appeared calm in the face of the onslaught. Winchester shook her head, clearly dismissing whatever Tess said. Meanwhile, her daughter, Ava, was making a concerted effort not to look at her mother.
His curiosity annoyed him. Whatever human drama was unfolding had nothing to do with him. He picked up his remaining doughnut along with the coffee and dropped a dollar tip on the table. He didn’t like leaving Bianca alone.
Chapter Three
The storm started on a Friday, the first day of March, a month after Tess had begun working at the Broken Chimney. It rained all that day and the next. By Sunday morning, the temperature had dipped below freezing, with the rain changing to sleet and Poorhouse Creek racing like a river. Instead of going to work, she wanted to curl up in a blanket by the windows and watch the rushing water creep closer to her back door.
Last night, her Honda CR-V had barely made it through the flooded low spots on the road up from the highway, and there was no way her car could make it to town today with the water rising even higher. She’d have to walk to work—over a mile down Runaway Mountain, which wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the hike back up. For a job she’d taken on a whim.
Cell service was spotty up here, but she had just enough signal to reach Phish, who was in Nashville, hungover from a rock concert. When she told him she couldn’t get to work, he wasn’t having it. “. . . get down there . . .” His voice cracked over the bad connection. “. . . count on. . . . Women’s Alliance . . . monthly meeting . . .”
“The road’s flooded. I can’t get my car out.”
“. . . walked to work before. You said . . . exercise.”
“I’ve walked when the weather’s been decent.”
“. . . mountain girl now, not some city puss . . .”
“Go away and put my nice guy boss on the phone,” she grumbled.
But she’d lost the connection.
Muttering, she shoved dry jeans, a pair of flats, and a flashlight into a plastic bag, which she stuffed in her backpack. Wearing her oldest sneakers, she flipped her rain jacket hood over her head and let herself out into the sleet and gloom.
The trek down the mountain was cold and miserable, but not as miserable as the trek back up would be. With the road buried in nearly three feet of water in spots, she stuck to the narrow track that served as a trail.
When she finally reached town, the sidewalk was an ice rink, and she nearly fell as she approached the Broken Chimney. Light showed brightly through the steamed-up front windows. Despite the weather, or maybe because of it, at least ten people were gathered inside. Savannah, wearing leggings and an oversize T-shirt, stood impatiently behind the counter. “You’re late.”
“And good afternoon to you.” Tess hung her rain jacket in the back room and exchanged her sodden sneakers and wet jeans for the dry clothes she’d brought with her. An old Campari advertising mirror indicated that her hair was as wild as the weather. She snagged it back in a ponytail and retrieved the condom display from behind a broken table to put out.
“You’re going to get in trouble if Phish sees that,” Savannah said as she collected