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But if this is going to help Jesse become sheriff and achieve his goals, then I’ll do it, because in spite of the last bit of debt I have with the bank for a business loan, things are getting better. The Heartstopper has new furniture, the menu has been replaced, and we’ve redone the entire kitchen. Grant’s always whistling lately, and he’s complimented the new gas burners five times in the past two hours.
“Ma’am?”
“Sorry,” I say. “It’s been a long morning.”
“Of course,” Drake says. “I understand you were involved in last night’s incident?”
“I wouldn’t say I was involved. Why don’t you take a seat, Mr. Star. We can talk about it. I’ll fix you a coffee.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He’s peppy and bushy-tailed as he takes his seat. He smells a good story coming.
I circle the counter and make him a coffee, thinking about Jesse. I’ll never be able to make a cup of coffee without thinking about him now, and that’s a problem since I make about fifty million of them a day.
I deliver the coffee to the reporter and sit down beside him, taking my mug into my hands.
“What do you want to know?”
The reporter sets his phone on the table. “Do you mind if I record this?”
“Go ahead.”
“What happened last night? I heard the sheriff saved you from being shot.”
This morning, Jesse had avoided the nitty-gritty details for my sake. Because of Billy, my family, and how it would reflect on me. He’d chosen to play that part down so I wouldn’t feel any pain. I can’t believe I hated that man.
“My brother tried to kill me,” I say. “Actually, that’s not technically true. He threatened me with a gun containing rubber bullets.”
I break into the story, telling him as much as I can and painting Jesse in the best light possible. Not that it’s difficult.
“Wow,” Drake says, when I’m done. “Wow. That’s quite the story, Mrs. Taylor. You?—”
“It’s a lie.” Davis’ familiar voice penetrates the diner.
Adrenaline rushes through my veins, and I turn on my stool.
“What do you want, Davis?” I ask.
“I came for coffee,” he says, leaning a hand on the counter and smiling at me. “But I’ll stay to be the truth-teller that this town needs.”
“Nope,” I say. “Mr. Star, we’ll have to finish up this interview, unfortunately.”
But I don’t like the look on the reporter’s face. He considers Nate from head to toe. “Who are you, sir?”
“I’m Deputy Nate Davis,” he says. “Soon to be Sheriff Davis.” He chuckles. “Because the people of this town know what’s good for them, you see, and it’s not a deputy who lets people off the hook. Miss Walsh here was arrested not long ago. For stealing a car.”
“It’s Mrs. Taylor,” I say. “And I wasn’t arrested, I was detained. And I wasn’t charged.”
“Her family has been a dark mark on this town, and I’m sure that the townsfolk are aware of that. They wouldn’t want the Walsh family to be anywhere near the top.”
The diner is quiet.
Todd drops his fork with a clatter.
“Don’t you talk about Marci like that.”
Nate folds his arms over his uniform.
