Page 24 of Quintessentially

Soon, the guys from the game and round table are filing in. I make my way back to the table.

“Thought you were working today from the hotel,” Mick says.

I grin. “Advantage of working on central time. I can still make breakfast with you bozos.”

I’m seated at the table when Justin walks in and looks around. Pulling out his chair, his eyes are on me. “When did you get here?”

“Before you.”Asshole.

Yeah, I didn’t say that, but what the fuck is this guy’s problem?

Cheryl takes our orders. Soon, the table is full of plates and drinks, and the chairs are all filled. The conversation mostly stays on last night’s game and the way we stomped Trevor.

My memory isn’t quite the same. As I recall, Riverbend won by one run in the bottom of the ninth, but I don’t want to burst their bubbles. To hear these guys talk, Riverbend is ready for the National Championship. Talk goes to next season and their plans for domination.

In a few minutes, Joyce is back, and I can’t help but wonder where she took Molly and why a five-year-old is eating breakfast at the diner. Those thoughts fade as Mick discusses a new subdivision being developed south of town.

“It’s mostly people from Evansville,” he says with a shake of his head. “They’re willing to pay for some peace and quiet—you know, good country living.”

Snickering into my coffee mug, I’m amused that anyone thinks Evansville, Indiana, is a big city.

Mick goes on, “Hell, what these people will pay for an acre and a McMansion is going to increase the value all around. We’ll have to put up with outsiders, but the property value will be worth it.”

A long-lost thought comes back to me. Long ago, Kandace told me that she wanted Riverbend to survive, that she wanted to help in that pursuit. Listening to these guys, it seems that it’s a common goal.

Do people in skyscrapers in Chicago ponder the city’s survival?

Ricky pulls me from my thoughts. “Hey, Dax, if you’re free this weekend, we’re baling. We can always use an extra hand.”

I rub my shoulders. “Shit, softball has me sore. I can’t imagine lifting bales of hay.”

Everyone laughs.

I take that back. Everyone—minus one.

As the breakfast breaks up, Sheers meets me near the front glass door. His chin is out, and his chest is puffed like a stupid peacock. “Are you signing off on the store today?” he asks.

I would ask him what business it is of his, but I suppose he’d say that it’s about his sister. Instead, I answer casually. “No, Murphy’s in court all day today in Washington.”

“But you will…sign off.”

I’m not sure if that’s a question or demand. I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“What the fuck?”

I lift my hand. “I mean, yeah, I don’t want it, but since this will shit is all common knowledge, Grandma short-ended herself on this deal. And besides, there are some bullshit stipulations. I mean, why not get what the store is worth? Remember, big spenders from Evansville are coming.”

His tone lowers to a growl. “You’re a fucking asshole. You know that?”

Mick comes up and grips Sheers’s shoulder. “Come on, we have work.” He nods my way. “FYI, no breakfast tomorrow. See you on Monday if you’re still here.”

With the way Mr. Murphy and Grandma have this drawn out, I probably will be.

Justin gives me one last glare as he leaves.

“What’s his problem?” I ask Ricky, who is now also at the door.

“I think he’s just happy to see your smiling mug back in Riverbend,” he jokes.

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