Page 110 of Working for the Mob

“It is his fault,” I said, acidly.

Cissy shrugged again. “I think it’s whoever shot him’s fault.”

That’s one way to look at it.

“You know he’s been asking about you two,” she said, and my head turned toward her so fast I cricked my neck.

“Art?”

“Jamie,” she said, which made a lot more sense. “He thinks the world of you both. Every time I see him, he talks about Lucy‘s baking and your work ethic.” She deepened her voice in an imitation of Jamie. “‘That Genevieve, she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s going to be running that place,’ he says.

“I told him you alreadydorun the place and he just smiles. The Good Lord never blessed us with any kids, but I think he’s been thinking of you two as his two little daughters after he took you under his wing. I don’t think he could be any more proud.”

Even now, Jamie’s words still struck home. I turned to the window to hide my eyes, and dabbed them with my scarf. I felt her side eye on the back of my head.

“Is everything alright?” she asked me, and I had to bite my lip to stop from losing it.

Everything wasnotalright. I had just been dumped by the one man who I thought truly loved me for me, and I was leaving the one place that didn’t see me as “just a housewife.” Nothing was alright, and I was having trouble holding it together. And now that the dam had been broken, it was easier to break again.

“Everything’s fine,” I lied, and kept my eyes glued out the window. Maybe if I ignored the waterfall down my face, it’d go away.

I didn’t mind that we rode the last mile in silence, passing the icy tundra outside. If we brought up Art or the café one more time, I’d fling myself out of the door while the car was still running.

Thankfully, a few minutes later, she turned into the parking lot of the train station, with the ticket desk that resembled a barn. It was already crowded on this Sunday morning, and she pulled in front of the entrance.

“Thank you for the ride, Cissy. Please tell Jamie that we’re happy he gets to go home and that we’re all thinking about him,” I said.

“WIll do. Don’t be a stranger now. You both know where we live,” she said.

“Of course,” I lied, again. I climbed out of the car and waved. “Thanks.”

She waved back and drove off. As uncomfortable as the car ride was, I felt a loss at her departure. Maybe I just needed someone there, no matter who it was.

I maneuvered through the crowded station to the ticket booth, with the same long-faced man I met the morning I arrived in Lannington.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said, more cheerful than anyone had a right to be today. He stared at me with a bigger smile than is usually reserved for kids at toy stores. “Will you be paying for a ticket this time?”

I didn’t have the fight to do more than shoot him a cool look.

“Once I get to the city, please,” I said, and dug into my purse while he rang me up.

“I see you found your clutch,” he said, with his eyebrows raised.

“I bought a new one,” I said and shoved my money across the counter, which he took with a greedy smile.

The next train didn’t depart for a half an hour. I would’ve missed it if it wasn’t for Cissy’s ride.

The chill wind outside still blustered, but I preferred to wait in the cold outside than inside with everyone else. It was too cold to sit, so I paced up and down the platform just like I did a few months ago. Here I was, running away again.

After I walked a track into the platform, my train finally pulled into the station.

“All aboard!” the conductor yelled.

I still had a few minutes before the train left and I didn’t want to be in a carriage full of people just yet.

Would anyone outside Lucy notice I left? Jamie might, but Lucy would still keep him company. Maybe Miss Dunham, or Mrs. Jenkins?

Lance Necci would notice that he had one less set of gams to look at when he came in for his coffee.

---