Page 79 of Making New Plans

“Pancakes a la Sal coming right up.”

Monty never carried a notepad for orders, yet everything came out perfectly. We thanked him, and he hurried over to a new table of boisterous older men who must’ve turned down their hearing aids.

Sal took a sip of her water. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we? I heard you had some help yesterday demolishing part of the house. How did it go?”

I gave her a brief, objective summary of what we did yesterday. She pulled out a palm-size notebook and wrote a few things down.

“I’m taking notes for my guy,” she explained.

I lifted an eyebrow. “Who is your guy, Sal?”

She waved her pen in the air like she was crossing out my concern. “Just someone I’ve known for a while who’s exceptionally good at this sort of thing. Not that I don’t trust Carter, because I think that boy could do with a solid path in this direction. But I think it would be nice to have a sort of overseer on the project.” Her lips pursed. “Unless you disagree.”

I shrugged. “No, but I’d like to meet him, preferably before he rolls a bulldozer onto Pine Grove.”

Did I imagine it or did the slightest tinge of pink bloom on Sal’s cheeks? I mentally shook my head. No way. Sal had never blushed in her life.

“Fine,” she said curtly. “I’ll have him stop by this afternoon if he can take a break from his current job.”

“It’d be good to know his name at some point as well.”

She huffed, not looking at me while scribbling furiously on her notepad. “Jameson.”

I couldn’t resist needling her a bit. “And his last name?”

“Hughes,” she grunted.

“Great, so I’ll be on the lookout for a Jameson Hughes. Now, if only I knew what he looked like. Otherwise, anybody could walk up and say they were Jameson—”

I ducked when Sal balled up her napkin and tossed at me.

“Hey now, Sal, don’t make me ban you again like that summer of ’09,” Monty said as he set plates and bowls piled with steaming food between us.

“He had it coming,” Sal accused me with a glare at Monty.

“Liar,” he said affectionately. “Do you want your coffee now?”

“Yes, please,” she grumbled.

Sal always waited to drink her coffee with her food because she claimed coffee tasted better with food. I wondered if Chloe would disagree. Then I smiled to myself. Chloe would have coffee any way she could get it.

“Hunter?”

I glanced up to see Sal had reverted to being smug, her eyes reading my face like a diary.

“I asked if you wanted some of the pancakes before your chili.”

I happily helped myself to several large bites of pancakes and had to hold myself back from eating the whole stack of buttery, chocolatey, fruity goodness. Chloe would probably love these based on the way she scarfed down Mable’s pastries. Maybe she’d come here with me.

After a few minutes of eating in silence, Sal broke it in her usual abrupt manner. “So, what’s your plan after your thirty days are up?”

A chunk of chili lodged in my throat, and I had to swallow hard to shove it down. Then I chugged some water, buying myself some time.

“I don’t have the particulars nailed down, but I’d like to be a part of this project at Pine Grove,” I said, aiming for nonchalant. But I didn’t risk taking another bite and, instead, ran my fingers up and down my water glass, collecting condensation.

“But you have ideas,” Sal pushed.

“Sure. I’ve thought about working something out with my firm so that I could split my time between places.”

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