“So you got pink hair and lost a bunch of money. How much did you lose?”
He shrugged. “Eh, not much. We only play pennies. Maybe five bucks. But those ladies in the salon sure gouged me. Thirty bucks for pink hair. Can you believe it?”
“That’s unbelievable.” I pursed my lips to hide my smile as I sat back down. “I brought you your favorite peach cobbler if that will make you feel any better.”
The scowl on Jimmy’s face disappeared. “Just visiting with you will make me feel better, but I’ll take that cobbler as a bonus. How are things going at the restaurant?”
I smiled. “Beyond my wildest expectations.”
The Maysen Jar had been open for three weeks, and in that time, we’d sold twice as much as Molly and I had projected for its entire first quarter. I’d seen more repeat customers bring back jars for refills than I’d ever anticipated, and I’d closed down each night this week with a nearly full tip jar.
“I’m excited to come see it next week. Did Debbie and Kyle pick a night yet?”
“No,” I sighed. “I texted Debbie but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet. She doesn’t text much these days.”
Debbie, Jamie’s mom, used to text me multiple times a day. Now I’d go weeks without hearing from her, and then it was only because I had reached out first. Kyle, Jamie’s dad, I hadn’t heard from in ages. Jamie’s parents lived on their ranch about an hour outside of Bozeman, and when Jamie had been alive, they’d come to see us every couple of weeks. But since he’d been killed, their trips had all but stopped. Now, they rarely came to visit Jimmy—Kyle’s dad and Jamie’s namesake—and I only saw them for special occasions.
“They love you, Poppy. It’s just hard for them.”
“I know. I just miss them.” I forced a smile as I looked at Jimmy—that pink hair making it wider.
I hadn’t just lost Jamie when he’d died. I’d lost Kyle and Debbie too. They’d become surrogate parents for me in college. They’d had me to their house for holidays when I hadn’t gone home to Alaska. They’d sat by my hospital bed during my junior year when I’d needed to have an emergency appendectomy, holding my hand until my own parents had arrived. They’d even co-signed on a car loan for me when mine had died one winter and I’d needed a replacement fast. After Jamie and I’d gotten married, our bond had grown even tighter.
Now it was nearly broken.
But at least I still had Jimmy. He was part of my family here in Montana, along with Finn, Molly and the kids, and I loved our weekly visits.
“It will be good for them to see your restaurant next week.” Jimmy sat forward in his chair and patted my knee. “If they see that you’re trying to move on, maybe they will too.”
“Or else they’ll get angry again.”
“I’m sorry to say that’s a real possibility too.”
The last time Kyle and Debbie had come to see me, they’d arranged for dinner with me and Jimmy. I’d casually mentioned going through some of Jamie’s things, asking if they wanted any of his old clothes or books I’d been keeping in the attic, and dinner had taken a nosedive. Debbie had burst into tears and Kyle had refused to look at me for the rest of the meal.
“Do you think they’ll ever stop blaming me for Jamie’s death?” I whispered.
After all, it had been my fault he’d even been at that liquor store.
Jamie had been standing at the register when a hooded man had come barreling into the store. The man had shot Jamie, then the cashier with no hesitation. Boom. Boom. Two shots, and my husband and a single mother to an eleven-year-old daughter had been murdered. The killer had loaded up cash from the register, then made his escape, disappearing without a trace.
No witnesses. No trail to follow.
No justice.
Jamie had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, all because I’d wanted to throw a party with something to drink other than tequila shots.
“They don’t blame you,” Jimmy said.
I gave him a sad smile. We both knew he was lying.
Kyle and Debbie had lost their oldest son. Since they couldn’t blame the actual murderer, they blamed me instead. Kyle couldn’t look me in the eye anymore, and whenever I tried to hug Debbie, she flinched.
But I understood. I blamed me too.
The guilt was part of the reason I’d been so diligent about visiting Detective Simmons. If I could actually find out who had killed Jamie, I might win his parents back. They could stop blaming me for his death.
Maybe I could stop blaming myself.
And now that Cole was looking into the case, I had a feeling we might actually make some progress. It was foolish to get my hopes up, but nevertheless, they were.
My faith in Cole’s abilities unnerved me. It was the kind of faith I’d always reserved for friends and family, and at best, Cole was just a casual acquaintance. Yet somehow, after one karate class, one dinner and one lunch, he’d earned my complete trust and confidence. When he’d told me that he would look into Jamie’s case, the deep-seated anxiety I’d felt for five years had eased—just a little.
Because if anyone could solve Jamie’s case, it would be Cole.
Jimmy sat back in his chair. “What else is new?”
“Nothing much. I’m pretty much confined to the restaurant right now, though I am taking a ukulele lesson tonight.” After leaving Jimmy’s, I’d go to my lesson.
“Ukulele?” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “Jamie always wanted to learn the ukulele.”
“Yeah, I know.
