Page 7 of Spring Rains

Scott glanced from me, to Fox, and then to Chris. “Reopening the diner?”

“Yep.”

“The diner,” he repeated, as if I’d thrown a stick into his carefully laid plans.

“Yep.”

Scott cast a look around him, gave a sigh of disappointment, then smiled, and I could see the smile reach his eyes. “I’m bummed you’re not selling, but yeah, getting Lily’s back would be so cool. How about I set up getting the electricity back on for you?”

“You don’t have to.”

Scott shrugged. “It’s the neighborly thing. Chris, do you need a hand?” He touched his brother’s arm, and Chris scowled.

“Leave. Me. Alone,” Chris muttered under his breath, then without a backward glance, left the diner with a slight limp, yanking Scott with him.

I didn’t relax until the door closed and I locked it after them to stop any other unneeded visits by people from town.

“This town is weird,” Fox announced.

“It’s protective of its own,” I defended, still feeling some of the warm and fuzzies from Scott saying he’d help me. It had been a long time since someone had helped me out for no reason, instead of the customary ulterior motives involving my ex-husband.

“Well, I hate it, and nothing you can do will make me like it.”

The warm and fuzzies vanished.

Reality was a bitch.

* * *

The Ridge Hotel,at the corner of Main and Abernathy, was as much a remnant of an older time as the diner was. Marjorie and Emmet Lowe still ran the place, and I swear, if I’d mentioned the summers I’d stayed here when we visited Lily, they’d probably even remember me and my parents. Emmet, who’d been old back then, must be seventy now, but he insisted on helping us carry a bag from the car. I tried to tip him, but he waved it away, all stoic and silent, and it was Marjorie who led us up to our two rooms. They were next to each other, and despite wanting Fox in with me—yeah right Dad—this was the best we could do. At least, he could get to me quickly if he needed me.

I organized him in his room as much as he would let me before I was told, in no uncertain terms, that he was okay, and could I just go away and leave him to unpack.

So, I did.

My room’s layout room was a mirror of his, a sofa, a small kitchenette with coffee stuff and snacks in small boxes, and the most comfortable bed—way better than the expensive monstrosity Briggs had insisted we buy that stood in the house Fox and I had left. I munched on a cookie, made myself a coffee, and now, had an hour to kill before Fox and I headed out to find food. Of course, that was way too much time not to think about the man who’d stormed in and accused me of breaking in. I’d seen the name of his brother—Scott—on papers in the Lily-file I’d been given, an offer to buy the place from the estate, but it wasn’t Scott that I was focusing on.

“Chris Sheridan,” I murmured, making myself comfortable on the sofa. It was time to put my Google Fu to the test.

Sheridan Realty was the first hit, a picture of a smiling Scott front and center, and listings of properties from here to the next town over and beyond.

I typed in Chris Sheridan, got a couple of hits, but the first one led me to the high school in Collier Springs. Chris was an English teacher and sports coach specializing in baseball—go figure. I got waylaid then, clicked around the school, getting a feel for it, as this was the high school that Fox would be attending. I guess maybe Chris might teach Fox. Given their standoff and the saucepan incident, I wondered how that would go.

Just because he’d come at me like a bull in a china shop didn’t mean he wouldn’t be a good teacher, because I’d glimpsed compassion and understanding in Chris when he’d backed off under Fox’s temper. Then, a little further down, a headline: “Local Community Mourns as Tragic Car Accident Claims Young Resident’s Life.”

I didn’t click, and I stopped scrolling then, because somehow it felt intrusive, so I went back to my to-do list, and all the while the wordstragic accidentspun in my head.

My to-do list included balancing finances and considering whether Briggs would ever get another team to take him on after the River Kings got rid of him. I bet not even the rookie leagues would be interested in him. So much for the millions he’d earned up until then. So much for the money I’d tried to put aside for Fox.

All gone because I hadn’t put the money in trust.

Now the only assets I had to my name were the diner and the apartment above, and enough money in my account to at least fix the parts that people could see and get in supplies. I hoped the kitchen was still in a useful state, and I prayed that, when I took the board from the windows and light flooded the diner, there wouldn’t be in too much disrepair.

That wasn’t much to ask.

Right?

ChapterFour

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