Page 19 of Finding His Redemption

Something was about to happen. The kind of something that cracked foundations and irrevocably changed lives.

A customer waved for a refill, and Nessie grabbed the coffee pot, grateful for the distraction. As she poured, she mentally recited her mantra:Stay quiet. Stay invisible. Protect Oliver.

Oliver.

Her gaze drifted toward the swinging door that led to her small office. Through the narrow window, she could see the top of Oliver’s head bent over his math worksheet. He was safe. That was all that mattered.

She returned the coffee pot to the warmer and resumed scrubbing at the counter, attacking old coffee stains with a vengeance. She really should just replace the whole thing. It was an ugly pink Formica relic from the 1970s that she’d inherited with the bakery, and she often dreamed of ripping it out. She had a lot of dreams for this place. Reclaimed wood or butcher block counters, a new espresso machine that didn’t sound like a dying cat, maybe some exposed brick to give the place character. But dreams cost money, and money was something she hoarded like a dragon guarded gold. Every spare dollar went into Oliver’s college fund or their emergency escape account—the one she prayed they’d never need but couldn’t bring herself to touch.

“You okay, honey? You’re gonna wear a hole through that counter.”

Nessie blinked and looked up at the petite woman standing on the other side of the counter, eyeing her with a mixture of concern and amusement. Margery Pendry was in her eighties and every single one of those years showed in the lines of her face, though she was much more spry than her feeble appearance let on. She owned half the buildings in town, including this one.

“Sorry.” She managed a smile that felt tight around the edges. “Just thinking. Want your usual?”

“You know it.” Margery hefted her ancient leather bag onto the counter and dug through it for her change purse. She always paid for her morning coffee and croissant in quarters. “Must be some heavy thoughts to put that line between your brows. Take it from an old woman who has more wrinkles than a Shar Pei, you’re too young and pretty to start collecting them. You’re gonna need Botox by forty if you keep furrowing like that.”

Nessie laughed despite herself and poured coffee into Margery’s favorite mug—a pink one with faded roses that Nessie kept behind the counter just for her. “You think I can affordBotox on a small-town bakery owner’s salary? Not everyone owns half of Montana, Marge.”

“Fair point.” Margery counted out her quarters into neat piles of four, then plunked an extra dollar in the empty tip jar. “You get yourself something nice.”

Nessie didn’t have the heart to tell her a dollar wouldn’t even buy a candy bar anymore. “Thanks, Margery.” She slid the croissant onto a plate and passed it over the counter, but Margery made no move to pick it up.

“So what’s got you so worked up this morning? That boy of yours doing okay?”

“Oliver’s fine. He’s in the back room finishing his homework before the school bus comes.”

Margery clucked her tongue. “Kindergarteners having homework. Now that’s just wrong.”

“He’s almost through first grade.” A fact Nessie still couldn’t quite believe. Her baby was getting so big, so fast. “Time’s flying.”

“It always does, honey.” Margery took a sip of her coffee, her shrewd eyes never leaving Nessie’s face. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

She hesitated. Margery knew everyone and everything in Solace—had for decades. If anyone had insights about Jax, it would be her. But something held her back from asking directly.

“Just a strange encounter yesterday,” she finally said, keeping her voice casual as she grabbed the two napkin holders from the counter to restock them. “Some guy walking along the ridge road.”

“Walking? Nobody walks out there. And what were you doing all the way out there before dawn?”

Meeting a U.S. Marshal.

She doubted Marshal Brant would appreciate her blurting that out in front of one of the biggest gossips in town, so shesettled for a half-truth. “Took Oliver on a scenic drive. He loves watching the sunrise from up there.”

If Margery didn’t believe her, she kept her doubts to herself. She leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Was it one of Walker’s boys?”

“I didn’t ask, but I think so. Boone Callahan picked him up.”

“Mm. Must be the new guy Walker just brought in. They always try to leave.”

“The new guy?”

“Yes, Jaxon Thorne. Former Navy SEAL. Came here from California, if I remember correctly. But not that part of California where they all look like they’re made of plastic.”

Nessie stopped short, a stack of napkins in hand, and turned to face the old woman again. “You know him?”

Margery took a delicate bite of her croissant. “Honey, I know everyone worth knowing in three counties.”

“Is he—” She hesitated, not sure how to frame her question without sounding paranoid. “Should I be concerned about him being around?”

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