Derailed (Clayton Falls #1)(7)
Author: Alyssa Rose Ivy

The hot coffee helped wake me, but my stomach still demanded food. Jumping in my car, I drove the few blocks to the square, hoping to kill two birds with one stone: food and a job. The only place to do that was Marney’s.

Marney’s café wasn’t actually owned by a Marney. Kind of like how there were no falls in Clayton Falls. I guess a Marney might have worked there at one time, but for as long as I remembered, Gail, a perpetually upbeat 70-something-year-old had run it.

“Can I help you?” Gail never lifted her eyes off her paper.

“I don’t know, can you?”

She looked up, brushing some silver hair from her face. “Molly! What are you doing here?” She threw down the paper and ran out from behind the counter. “And why do you look so skinny? Isn’t that boyfriend of yours feeding you?” She gave me a bone crunching hug that seemed surprising coming from someone with her slight frame.

I swallowed, not looking forward to yet another one of these conversations. For once, I hoped the rumor mill would do its job so I could stop explaining.

“No boyfriend anymore, Gail. It’s just me. If you’re worried about my weight, how about giving me one of those strawberry Danishes of yours?”

“I’ll do you one better, how about two?”

“Wow, I must really look skinny.”

She laughed. “Come on, let’s get you some food and catch up. The morning rush is over, so we should have some time.”

Over pastries and the orange juice Gail insisted I get for the vitamins, I filled her in. Or at least I gave her the edited version.

“What’s going on? What are you doing home?”

“Adam’s gone, I don’t want to be a lawyer, and I didn’t know where else to go.” I laid it out there.

“Gone?”

“Please don’t make me tell the story. I don’t want to cry anymore.”

“The devastation in your eyes is from more than a break up, but I’ll respect your wishes. One piece of advice: holding the truth in is only going to hurt you more.”

“You’re probably right, but it’s what I’m doing right now.” I finished my juice, using it as an excuse not to make eye contact.

“All right, it’s your choice to make.”

“I need a job.”

“And she gets to the point.”

I nearly snorted my juice. “Any chance you can give me some shifts?”

“Aren’t you a little overqualified to serve coffee and sandwiches?”

“My political science major isn’t going to help much anywhere else in town.”

“You know you always have a job here, honey.” She’d said the same thing when I left for college.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” I smiled, relieved that something was going my way.

“When can you start?”

“The sooner the better.”

“All right, I’ll get you an apron.”

“I’m starting now?”

“Unless you have somewhere else to be.” She looked at me questioningly.

“Nowhere else to be.” I concentrated on finishing the last crumbs of my second Danish.

“Now it’s been a few years, but do you think you remember how to work everything?”

“Unless you have a bunch of new high-tech machines, I should be fine.” Gail was notorious in town for eschewing technology. Someone once suggested she set up Wi-Fi for her customers, and she about threw him out. I happened to think that it was a good thing. It meant she still made everything by hand.

Gail smiled. “Hey, don’t knock an old system that still works. Go wash up, and help me make some sandwiches before the lunch crowd.”

I mock saluted. “All right, boss. I’m on it.”

I’d forgotten how therapeutic making chicken salad sandwiches could be, but for the first time in a long time, the tension in my shoulders lessened, and I relaxed without having a drink first. I could have scooped mayonnaise forever, but I eventually finished.

Around eleven thirty, the telltale jingle of the door announced the beginning of the lunch time rush. Even with a diner and several fast food restaurants in town, the café still had a crowd of mid-day regulars.

When Gail called me to the front, I mentally prepared myself for the barrage of questions to come. On the bright side, after one shift, the word would pretty much spread across town.

“Hi there, Molly, what are you doing back?” Mr. Martin, a former math teacher of mine asked as I rang up his sandwich and coffee.

“I’m just hanging out for a while, not sure what the next stop is.”

“So what happened with medical school?” Mr. Atkins, the owner of the local nursery asked. He had always been happy to let me come in to take pictures of the flowers and plants.

“Arnie, it’s Shayna who went to med school. This is Molly. She’s in law school,” his wife cut in.

“Oh sorry, hon.”

“Not a problem. I actually decided law wasn’t for me.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m sure you could work with the Morgans.” He referred to one of the small firms in town.

“I don’t think I’m going to change my mind.”

“Enough about law school. How’d you convince your fiancé to move down here? Isn’t he a Boston boy?” Mrs. Atkins asked, taking a sip from the coffee I handed her.

“He’s not here.”

“Oh.” She paused, finally putting it together. “Oh! I’m sorry to hear that, but you are still so young, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll meet someone new in no time.”

“Absolutely.” I forced a smile before excusing myself.

Gail found me making confetti out of paper napkins twenty minutes later.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bailed on you like that,” I apologized.

“It’s fine, but do me a favor and help the customer who just walked in; I need a break.”

“Sure, of course,” I replied, eager to redeem myself.

There was a strange twinkle in Gail’s eye that had me worried for a second, but I ignored it.

I walked out, and my breath hitched. Gail was going to get it.

With his brown hair buzzed short as usual, and the constant tan with a hint of sunburn he always sported from working on his dad’s boats, my high school sweetheart stood at the counter.

“Molly?” His brown eyes widened. A barely visible smile played on the corner of his lips.