The Secret of You and Me - Melissa Lenhardt Page 0,101

out they were more discerning than I thought. Now I was left with a house that was still full of shit I didn’t want to deal with. In my rush to be done with Lynchfield, to blow out of town, I’d extended the time I would have to be here.

“I should have used Joe.”

“Yep,” Dormer said. “That horse is out of the barn, though.”

“He probably couldn’t have sold much more than we did,” Mary said.

“But, he would have someone haul off what’s left, right?”

“I guess.”

“I bet he’ll hook you up with someone who’ll take it off your hands,” Jeremy said.

“Doubt it. ‘Hey Joe, I didn’t use you to sell my stuff, know anyone I could call to take it now?’”

“Call Sophie,” Mary said, with a small smirk. “I bet she’d love to help.”

“I need a beer.” I walked out of the den. “Who wants one?”

“We’re heading out,” Jeremy said. “I leave for Boston tomorrow.”

“And the kids have swim practice,” Mary said. “Where are they?”

“With the chickens,” Jeremy said. “I’ll get them.”

He kissed me on the temple. “Remember what I said,” he whispered and squeezed my arm.

I peeked into the kitchen at the destroyed remnants of the funeral food. Instead of being on the downhill side of the mountain I needed to climb to escape Lynchfield, it seemed I was back at the bottom of the ascent.

“I better get working on the kitchen,” Emmadean said.

“No. I’ll do it. You’re wiped out, and you’ve done more than your share today.”

Her face slackened with relief. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“I’ll take you home, Em,” Dormer said.

The kids came in with Jeremy and took the few cookies that were left, thinking they were chocolate chip. I didn’t have the heart to tell them they were oatmeal raisin. Plus, less for me to clean up.

After a flurry of goodbyes, I was alone in Ray’s house.

Right back where I was a week earlier.

twenty-seven

sophie

The parking lot in front of the run-down building was full of potholes, trash and weeds. A couple of Harleys were parked in front, and a nondescript pickup was parked on the side of the building.

“Um, this isn’t the Magnolia Café.”

Through the front window of my car, I looked up at the square midcentury sign hanging from a steel pole above the door and laughed. “Nope.”

I opened my car door and stepped out.

“We aren’t going in there, are we?” Logan asked.

“Yep.” I waited at the bar door for her.

“What the hell are we doing here, Mom?”

I pointed up at the sign. “Hitting Rock Bottom.”

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark room, but the smell was shockingly familiar. Logan moved close to me and put her hand in mine. “Mom, this place is creepy.”

I squeezed her hand. “We’re okay,” I said, though I was starting to doubt my decision to bring my young daughter here. I led her to a table near the back by the old-fashioned jukebox and cigarette machine.

The bartender threw his towel over his shoulder and ambled over to us. “Minors aren’t allowed.”

“Okay,” Logan said, standing. I held her hand to keep her seated.

“She’s not drinking. We won’t be here long.”

The man narrowed his eyes at me and seemed to come to a decision. “Jack and beer back, right?”

“Not today. Two Cokes, please.”

“You’ve been here before,” Logan hissed when the bartender left.

“Unfortunately.”

“And you brought me here, why?”

“I need to tell you a story. I thought I’d start at the end, but I’m not so sure now.”

“This place smells like vomit.”

“Most bars like this do.”

The bartender put two Cokes in front of us and returned to the bar. A biker went to the jukebox next to us and leaned over it, deciding on what to play. He chose his music and ambled back to his friend. Johnny Cash’s smooth voice filled the dark bar.

“I can’t imagine what kind of story ends here.” Logan eyed the patches on the back of the biker’s vests. These weren’t white-collar weekend bikers. They looked like extras from Sons of Anarchy. “I mean, I can’t believe you got out alive.”

I sipped my Coke and gathered my courage. I ran this conversation over and over in my mind the day before, during every tedious minute of the meeting with Avery and Mark about the fund raiser, trying to grasp enough of what they were saying to be engaged, but not caring a bit about anything they decided. I’d managed to focus during Logan’s first gynecological visit, but immediately after my mind went to this conversation, how