By the time she made her way back up front to the check-out, the cashier was behind the counter.
“Becca?”
The woman she’d last seen at play rehearsal glanced up from wiping the glass countertop. She smiled, looking surprised, but pleasantly so. “Casey, right? So you didn’t leave town?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m glad. You’ll be at rehearsal tonight?” She looked down at the countertop, then back at Casey, obviously trying not to appear too eager.
Casey sighed. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
Becca’s shoulders relaxed. “Great. I’ll be there, too.”
“A smaller role?”
“Bigger one, actually. Just a different kind. I’m going to be the stage manager.”
“Oh, good. I was wondering about that. I didn’t see one last night.”
“We had one. But she quit. She and Thomas didn’t get along.”
Casey grunted. “Imagine that.”
“He’s not all bad.” Becca grinned.
“I guess there’s always hope.”
The bell above the door dinged again, and Casey watched as a man in a suit hustled into the store. He nodded at Casey, but continued toward the back, where the actual drug part of the pharmacy stood behind a tall counter.
Casey paid for her items, and Becca was bagging them when the man got in line behind her.
“See you tonight, then?” Becca said.
“Seven-o’clock.”
Becca turned to the man. “Hello, Mr. Willems.”
Casey hesitated, then took her time checking out a rack of cards at the front of the store. Could this be Karl Willems? The CEO of HomeMaker, who had laid off all of those people at Christmas, and planned to do the same to the rest of them? Casey peeked around the display to check him out.
Handsome in a business kind of way. Gray hair, trimmed close. Tanned skin. Face beginning to show signs of age. Taller than Casey, by at least several inches.
“Yes, good afternoon,” he said to Becca.
Becca glanced outside. “Looks like a nice day out there. Is it warm?”
“What? Oh, yes. Warm enough.”
Becca rang up his purchase and slid it into a bag. “Will there be anything else today? One of those candy bars you like?”
“Hmm?”
“A Hershey bar with Almonds?”
“Oh, yes, I do like those. How did you know?”
Becca’s smile looked forced.
“I don’t need one today, though,” Willems said. “Thank you.”
He took his bag and left, again nodding to Casey as he passed her. Casey stepped out from behind the display.
“He never remembers who I am,” Becca said, not looking at Casey. “You’d think after all the times he comes in here…”
Casey shrugged. “Some people are like that.”
“Yeah, I know. But it makes it even harder…” She broke off, and went back to rubbing her rag on the countertop.
Casey tried to finish the sentence. “Harder to see him fire people, when he can’t even remember their names?”
Becca kept up her scrubbing for a few moments before dropping her hand and looking at the floor. “Not only names. It’s the faces, too. He doesn’t even remember them.”
Casey looked at Becca’s face. It was a pretty one. Not one she’d think men would forget so quickly.
But then, some people had a hard time seeing past their own.
Chapter Eleven
Karl Willems was driving away in a black Cadillac STS when Casey got outside. She watched the car turn right at the stoplight, heading out toward The Burger Palace and The Sleep Inn. It was also the direction of HomeMaker. She remembered seeing the building as she and the trucker had driven into town.
Casey strapped her pharmacy bag to the back of her bike with a bungee cord she’d brought from Rosemary and Lillian’s garage, and swung her leg over the seat. The factory wasn’t far; she’d walked much farther in the recent weeks, and she could use the exercise. Her laundry was probably ready to be switched back at The Nesting Place, but it could wait. She pushed off from the curb and headed out of town.
Once she’d made the turn and gotten close to the hotel she began to see cars. People, too, lunch boxes dangling from their hands as they walked toward her. Their clothes were uniform, each light blue button-down sporting a HomeMaker patch on the left breast. Casey assumed their names were the cursive splotch below the company’s emblem.
She eased to the side of the road and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to check the time. Just after three. Change of shift. She returned the phone to her pocket and resumed riding toward the factory, scanning the faces of the people as they passed. No one she knew, of course.
As she got closer the factory loomed large and white. Not depressing, actually, as she’d expected. The HomeMaker sign on the side of the building—blue and red—shone brightly. No letters with burned-out bulbs. No weeds growing up through cracks in the pavement. She circled the building, skirting the edge of the massive parking lot, avoiding the main flow of the exiting traffic. Well-maintained grass surrounded the building, mature trees lined the borders, and a manmade pond, complete with fountain, graced the open space toward the highway.
The traffic dwindled. Those taking over this shift had already begun work, and most of those leaving were on their way home. Casey braked to a stop close to the front door, studying the cars in the parking lot. American cars, mostly, with a few Hondas and Toyotas thrown in. None of the Pegasus hybrids. Only a few parking spaces held vehicles in the upper echelon of the car world, and those were the ones up front in the reserved spots. The ones designated for Karl Willems—his Cadillac STS—, the Senior VP—a shiny Indian motorcycle—, and the Executive Assistant. That space held a new-looking Acura Integra. Not hugely expensive, but more than the assembly line workers could afford.
The front doors whooshed open and Eric VanDiepenbos exited, his eyes on the sidewalk as he strode toward her.
“Eric?”
He jerked to a halt, his tight expression easing as he recognized her. “Casey? What are you doing here?”
She gestured to the bike. “Trying out my new wheels.”
He checked out her ride. “Nice. Where’d you get it?”
“The place I’m staying.” She got off the bike and pushed down the kickstand. “I have to tell you your hotel recommendations are now suspect.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Pretty gross, huh? But that bike doesn’t belong to The Sleep Inn.”
“No. I found a nice B & B.”
A smile flickered on his face. “The Nesting Place?”
“That’s the one.”
“You’ll like it there. I didn’t recommend it last night because it was so late and because…well, you said you wanted something cheap. Are the ladies cutting you a break since you’ll be there for a while? At least I hope you will, since the play won’t be done for over a month.”
Casey bit her lip. “Actually, we haven’t gotten around to talking about the price. With me getting there in the
