“Lucky?” Ellie raised an eyebrow. “You named him?”
“West did, actually, although he didn’t mean to. He kept telling the dog stuff like, ‘You’re lucky I don’t mind sweeping up every damn day, because you shed like a Norwegian Elkhound,’ or ‘You’re lucky I didn’t care about that shoe,’ or ‘You’re lucky that skunk you tried to chase didn’t nuke you into next week.’ The name sort of stuck.”
“Well, if you ask me, the luck runs both ways,” Melody said as she held the diner door open for them. “I saw West in front of the firehouse yesterday morning, and he looked pretty darn content tossing a stick to the dog while chatting with Josh.”
Yeah. She’d gotten a big hit of that yesterday afternoon when she’d walked upstairs after showering to find West stretched out on the couch with Lucky on his chest, both snoozing away as a ballgame played out silently on the flat screen. And then she’d wondered how her heart was going to withstand the withdrawal pains when it came time to leave.
Maybe you won’t have to leave? It’s been nearly a month, and no sign of Randy or Uncle Billy, or anyone from Nashville.
Could it be possible they’d moved on with their lives, and she was free to quietly do the same?
Addy greeted them with a big smile, and a hug for Roxy. Then she stepped back to give her the once-over. Roxy watched as Addy’s gaze, inevitably, came to rest on her forehead. “Owie. Bless your heart. That’s quite a bonk you took.”
“It looks worse than it is. My façade needs some cosmetic attention, but I’m structurally sound,” Roxy assured her as they all took seats at the lunch counter. “In fact, I’m ready to reopen for business.”
“Limited business,” Ellie interjected. “Like we discussed,” she added, making eye contact with Addy.
Addy nodded and then switched her attention to Roxy. “I can use you tomorrow for the breakfast shift, or if you want to take another recovery day, I can put you on the schedule for Sunday’s dinner shift.”
“Both. I’m all good. Really,” she insisted when her boss gave her another once-over.
“Okay,” Addy replied, “but just half-shifts this first week. After that we’ll revisit the schedule and see what’s what.”
“Deal.”
“Great. Granted, it’s only been a couple days, but you’ve been missed. Word travels fast ‘round these parts. Everybody’s sick to death about what happened to you and wanting to know how you’re doing. Any news on the— Oh, hey Earl, be right there,” Addy called toward the front of the diner, where Earl Rawley approached the hostess stand. “Back in a sec, girls.” She sent them a wink and slid off her stool.
Earl—who Roxy estimated to be somewhere between sixty and two hundred years old—moved his lean, arthritic frame past the hostess stand with its PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED sign and made his way toward them. “Actually”—he pointed a knobby finger at Roxy—“it’s this one I was fixin’ to talk to today.”
“Well, sit yourself down right here.” Addy tapped the seat she’d just relinquished. “Get you some coffee?”
“Thanks. Ladies.” He nodded to Ellie, Melody, and Roxy. “Hope to see you at the pub this weekend. I know you might be nervous about coming by after what happened, but I want everyone to know we’re taking steps to make sure nothing like that happens again.”
A flicker of relief danced inside Roxy. “West spoke to you?”
Earl nodded. “He did, but we were already of a mind. It’s a bar. Every once in a while, some fool gets over-served and we have a dustup, but that happens man to man, so to speak.” He turned to Ellie. “Right, Sparky? Remember the time Junior got Tyler in the crosshairs of his squirrel shooter and tried to make a hen out of that rooster?”
“What?” Roxy swiveled toward Ellie. “Junior shot at Tyler?”
“Got him, too. Right in the sitter, as I believe Sparky here can attest.”
“Earl, nobody calls me that anymore,” Ellie replied, with a roll of her big, brown eyes.
“Got that nickname on account of me, didn’t you? Sparky you were, and Sparky you’ll stay as far as this old man is concerned.”
“Wait. Wait. Wait,” Roxy interrupted, holding up a hand. The conversation was taking too many turns, and she wanted to stick with the first road they’d gone down. “When…no. Scratch that. Why did Junior shoot Tyler?”
“Boy got skunk drunk and convinced himself Tyler made a move on Lou Ann when fact is, Lou Ann made the move to pry a ring out of Junior. Which it did.” Earl nodded thanks to Addy when she placed a mug of coffee in front of him. “And that butt-shot gave Tyler a reason to call on Spar…the doc here, so all’s well that ends well, I guess.”
“I guess,” Roxy repeated weakly. “And people call me reckless. How did I not know this?”
“It happened a while ago,” Ellie said. “Before their prefrontal cortexes fully developed. The process takes longer for some men, but eventually, executive functions emerged.”
“Well now, the ladies aren’t above a little pushy-shovey, either. Take that time Lena Nixon went swinging a pool cue at Gabby Hill for cozying up with Trey before the ink dried on their divorce papers.”
“Oh, geez.” Melody squinted and tapped her chin with her index finger. “I remember that night. Lena was out for blood.”
“They damn near tore the place up, and Elton—rest his soul—had to come up with five hundred bucks to compensate me for the damage his ‘baby girl’ did to my bar. But my point is, we see some stupid shit…uh…how do them experts put it?”
“Interpersonal problems?” Melody suggested.
Earl snapped his fingers and pointed at Melody. “’That’s it. ‘Interpersonal problems.’ We see them now and again at the pub, but we know the people, we know the motives, and we know those folks are gonna have some accounting to do when they sober up and settle
