Page 21 of Engaging with Her Enemy

Ms. Iris had offered for Becky to look at the businesses books and understand the financial situation of the diner. Becky should. She knew that.

She also recognized that she’d have to hire additional help once Ms. Iris quit after she married Hugh. But what if she screwed it up? What if she got the numbers backward? Imposed them when trying to fill out something for taxes or doing payroll?

She closed her eyes as fresh air swept through the kitchen. “Thank God! Finally.”

“And here I thought you'd forgotten about me.” Tommy stood in the open doorway, his shirt dirty, and it was only eleven. She'd never fault a man for getting dirty for a living. But she couldn't stand the sight of Tommy after his ultimatums about her and her lot in life for being a woman.

Babies. Cooking. Laundry. Repeat.

She was okay with two out of three. She hated doing her own laundry, let alone a man that could make a black T-shirt look dirty with white sweat stains. Or a white one dirty with brown stains.

“What do you want, Tommy? Begging at the back door for food?”

He leaned against the door jamb. “I don't beg, Shug. You know that.”

“Yes. I do. Which has made this break-up easier on both of us.” She let her hair drop back into place. “Make it quick. My five-minute break is almost up.”

“Just seeing if you’d changed your mind. We’re good together.”

She'd liked him once, but not love. And not in a passionate sort of way. Despite the cocky talk, he’d been sweet. It'd hurt him when she declined his proposal. Since then, he'd lashed out. More jerk than sweetheart.

Setting her hand on his shoulder, she smiled, trying to remember the good times they'd had. “I can't, Tommy. You and I want different things out of life.”

“You want too much.”

Funny, Hudson had just told her she'd settled for less than she should have. But Hudson had ambition. Tommy enjoyed waking up, working, and coming home.

“Maybe I do. And all we'll do is fight about it. I'm not going to change.” She patted him again. “Not for anyone.”

He jerked away. “Whatever, Becky. Unlike you, I’m not giving up on this relationship. See you later.” He walked away, climbing into the old truck he’d parked in the alley behind the diner.

“Are you okay?” Ron set a plate on the tray, finishing the order for the party of seven. “Can't say I've missed seeing him around the joint. Or you being with him. You seem happier lately. Peaceful. When you were dating him, when y’all fought, it bubbled over into everything you touched.”

She slid the tray onto her shoulder, hating that she’d taken out those bad moods on him and the others around her. “I’m sorry for it, and you can bet it won’t happen again. I’m glad I’m through with him. I never went into the relationship, thinking it'd last as long as it did.”

“He was comfortable. That's easy enough to understand. But you deserve someone different from him.”

Becky bumped her hip into the kitchen door to deliver the food. “You want me with someone uncomfortable?” She smiled as he laughed.

Ron's assessment of her improved mood didn't solve the issue of Hudson. Because even though Hudson had pushed and prodded too much into why she never left Statem, he felt way too comfortable. Like the old, soft pair of blue jeans, she'd had for years and can finally fit back into. She’d relied on him in high school, and now it was too easy to fall into that same mental dependency. He’d once compared himself to the feather inDumbo. The elephant didn’t really need a “magic feather” to fly, he just thought he did.

That was easy for him to say. He’d never been the one falling from the ceiling without the damn feather before.

She’d spent the last decade of her life free falling without him.

“Here we go.” She shifted the tray to the edge of the large table. A group of men in collared shirts with some type of logo had pushed three of the tables together. They thanked her politely and waited for her to leave before resuming their conversation.

Well, she didn't live in a small town and not appreciate some local gossip. Giving them about five minutes, she circled back around, waiting until the man at the end of the table finished talking before speaking. She tried to listen but wasn't sure what project they were talking about.

“Y'all need anything? Everything taste, alright?” She made eye contact with each man, but they all seemed okay. “You know, I don't think I recognize anyone at this table. Y'all traveling through or staying?” She smiled as sweet as possible. It helped when digging for information.

The oldest one at the table, maybe near seventy, cleared his throat. “We aren't sure if we're staying or not. We're here to observe the highway expansion project along the outside of your town.”

“Oh. Are you from Atlanta, then?”

“Some of us are. We're an independent company to do a review to make sure safety standards are met. We had a report that the person in charge was rather neglectful.” He smiled at her like her grandfather might. “Public safety is the most important.”

Becky felt her back pocket automatically, wanting to call Hudson, but waited a moment, pretending to wipe her hand off on a rag hanging from the other pocket. “Was the person that reported this named Barry?”

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