His heavy-scented cologne wafted over her and she fought hard not to gag at it. He always wore too much and it wasn’t a good kind, some sort of smoky undercurrent to it.
He stepped closer. “I know you’re very busy. But as I was telling Miss Ashley here, this really is an important case we need to talk about.”
Each young man’s case at the Colbert Street halfway house was important to her. Sadly, only the problem ones ever seemed to be of importance to Todd.
“Well, why don’t you come in and we’ll take a look.” She led him inside, with Ashley close on their heels, a large shopping bag from the Peaches ‘N Cream Café in her hands.
“Got you the chicken salad sandwich and fruit, boss.” Ashley set the bag on the table and pulled out the contents. “Wasn’t sure about you, Mr. Banyon, but Lorna assured me you like ham and cheese on rye with a side of homemade chips.”
A rare smile settled on Todd’s face as he eyed the luncheon Ashley spread out before him. “Yes. That’s exactly what I get.”
“Good.” Ash beamed another overly bright smile at the man as she ushered him into the seat opposite Libby, who had trouble hiding her amusement at her secretary’s ability to charm anyone. “Now, I’m heading to the vending machine for drinks. What would you like? A pop or bottled water?”
After Ashley got his order for a cola and Libby’s for her usual bottled water, she left them alone.
“So, what’s on your mind, Todd?” Libby asked, after she cracked a window for some fresh air and settled in her seat. Setting aside her files to clear a spot on her desk, she opened up her plastic container with the fruit inside. She speared a strawberry with the plastic fork and munched on it while Todd finished swallowing the bite of his sandwich and opened his file.
“The state has moved a new client into the Colbert House.”
The halfway house sat on Colbert Street, within easy walking distance of both Westen High School and the town square. When the town council set up the house with state funding five years ago, they wanted to be sure the teens could attend school and find part time jobs without the excuse of limited transportation. Eventually, so many people called it the Colbert House, the council made it official.
“What’s his name?” she asked, opening her sandwich, the sight of Lorna’s world-famous chicken salad making her mouth water.
“Kyle Gordon. Sixteen.”
Jeez. He was going to make her pull the information out of him.
“And why is the state sending him to us?” As the county social worker, she not only sat on the board of directors for Colbert House, she was instrumental in helping the boys get settled into the house, into school, and finding jobs. Most were minor delinquents the state didn’t want to put into the system with more hardened offenders.
“That’s the problem. They’re not giving me a lot of information. As an orphan, he’s a ward of the state—”
“The poor dear,” Ashley interrupted as she brought back their drinks. “And he has no family at all?”
Taking a big bite of her sandwich, Libby hid her amusement at her secretary’s kind heart and the frustrated look on Todd’s face.
His cheeks turned quite pink and his lips pressed tight in a thin line beneath his bushy mustache. He narrowed his eyes at Ashley. “No. Not from what I can tell in his file, which really is quite sparse. That’s why he’s a ward of the state.”
“Because his file is so sparse?” Ash asked with a mischievous gleam in her eyes and Libby choked on her food.
“No, Ms. Smith. Not because of the file. Because he has no family to take him in.” If Todd turned any redder he’d be mistaken for the old-fashioned fire plugs that still graced the streets of Westen.
Libby took pity on him. “Ashley, if you’d give us a few minutes?”
“Of course.” She gave Todd her friendliest smile and sauntered out of the room. Libby swore she heard a little giggle as she closed the door behind her.
Libby set her lunch to the side, took a drink of the cold water, then leaned her elbows onto her desk and looked the house supervisor in the eye. “Todd, I agree it’s rather odd the young man’s file has so little information in it. Did the state agency give you any reason for that?”
More relaxed now that Ashley had left, he settled back in his chair. “They said his files were to be sealed until he was twenty-one by court order.”
“I see.” That usually meant some sort of juvenile arrest.
“Do you?” He leaned forward, real concern in his face. “I now have a hardened criminal among my residents.”
CHAPTER THREE
The smell of cinnamon hit Kyle Gordon as he entered the café, sending his taste buds and salivary glands into overdrive. The rumble from his stomach warned him it had been hours since he’d scarfed down some nearly stale cereal back at the house. Colbert House. Yeah, that was the name of the new place they’d dumped him. Besides the usual rules of no drugs, no alcohol, no fighting and no girls above the downstairs living area, this place had another rule. Get a job.
Right. Everyone in this backward town knew he was new. New, with no parents, meant he was living at the halfway house. No way would anyone give him a job. He hadn’t even bothered to go into any of the places on the list Banyon handed him this morning. He’d found the library and spent some time reading the old newspapers, trying to figure out the town. It was a little place. Sat on the edge of Amish country. Lots of articles about farming, the local county fair and high school sports. The newspapers stopped abruptly last spring. He’d had to google on the library computer to find out why. Seems the newspaper owner ran a meth lab on the outskirts of town and nearly blew the whole place up. Now that was a surprise.
When the library was invaded by ankle-biters and their moms for story time, he’d evacuated the area and wandered around the square, finally sitting on a bench near the courthouse just watching the people come and go.
Now he figured he’d grab something to eat before going back and facing the pale skinny guy that ran the house and tell him he’d struck out. Maybe the state would send him to a city somewhere.
He walked through the café that looked like it had come straight out of a 1950s sitcom—complete with black-and-white checkered floor, chrome napkin holders, and turquoise-colored, vinyl-covered booths, chairs and barstools—taking a seat at the far end of the lunch counter. Out of habit he pulled up one of the laminated menus and pretended to peruse the items as he surreptitiously studied the other patrons, looking for any potential threats. At the other end of the counter sat two old men, drinking what looked to be iced tea and playing a game of checkers. Several tables in the center of the place had mothers and their kids eating dishes of ice cream.
The far corner held the biggest problem. Four guys. Looked like the local football big shots. They were wolfing down sandwiches and fries. If he was lucky they’d leave before noticing the new kid in the place. Yeah, and Hogwarts would be sending him an invitation by owl-mail any day now. He glanced up. Nope. No owl. Not happening.
“What’s on your mind?”
Startled that someone had sneaked up on him so quietly, he looked over the top of the menu to see who spoke to him and swallowed hard. Across the counter stood a hot brunette about his age, with a bit of a smirk on her pink lips, staring straight at him. Her dark hair was pulled up in a ponytail, but he could see strands of it she’d dyed a deep purple. She wore a T-shirt with the shop’s logo, Peaches ’N Cream Café, across a chest that hinted at breasts neither too big nor too small beneath. It was tucked loosely into a pair of well-worn, pale-blue jeans.
She leaned in closer, humor making her blue eyes sparkle. “And just so you know, I’m not on the menu.”
His mouth went suddenly dry, heat filled his face and he had to work to sound natural. “Too bad. What would you recommend I have then?”
Good. That didn’t sound like some lame ass.
She took a step back and sized him up and down, “Burger and fries and one thick chocolate milks
hake.”
Before he could protest that he didn’t have enough money for all that she’d already disappeared in the kitchen part of the café. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the money, actually. Banyon had handed him part of his weekly stipend the State gave him as part of his spending money. But he didn’t know how long he’d be here, and if he wanted to eat anywhere but Colbert House, he’d have to stretch every penny.
Maybe he could get her to take the milkshake back. Water would be just as good.
Movement from the far corner caught his eye. The four guys were sliding out of the booth and headed for the cash register. Great. He could study the menu some more and maybe they wouldn’t say anything. But then the waitress might say something since she’d already taken his order.
A tall woman with hair the color of a yellow crayon piled on her head, wearing an apron with the café logo across the top part, stepped out of the kitchen to meet the four guys at the cash register that was so old, he swore it probably came from the 1800s.
“Hey, boys. Thought football practice started today?” she said, taking the first guy’s ticket.
“Two-a-days start tomorrow, Miss Lorna,” the dark-haired one said.
“Yeah, we’re just having a meeting at the high school tonight,” the tall, skinny one said then leaned onto the counter. “Gonna meet the coaches and probably pick which team we want to be on.”
The redhead slapped the first guy on the shoulder. “Of course, old Brett here will be the quarterback.”
“That’s going to be up to the coach, Connor,” the lady said as she rang up the first bill. “Sheriff Justice will wait to see how each of you play. Who knows, there may be someone better than Brett.”
“No, way,” Connor protested. “He’s been the best passer in town for the past two years.”
The lady shrugged and glanced at the counter where Kyle sat, then returned her attention to the cash register, but not before the shortest, lineman-sized guy focused in on him.
Kyle glanced around for something to look at so the foursome wouldn’t think he’d been eavesdropping. A stack of fliers were on the end of the counter. He grabbed one.
The local craft show? Crap. With his luck one of those guys would wander over and comment on him being “crafty” like a girl.
“Here, this looks more your style,” the cute waitress said, standing in front of him, blocking the view of the four football players. She set down the chocolate milkshake and a copy of a sports magazine featuring the Ohio State Buckeyes in front of him. Then she winked, turned and headed back into the kitchen. He couldn’t help grin at her swaying bottom, the flyer for the craft show neatly tucked in the hip pocket of her jeans.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shortest of the four guys say something to the guy they’d called Brett and both of them turned to stare at him. Looking them straight in the eyes, he took a big sip on the straw in his shake.
“That’s seven-fifty,” the cashier lady said, drawing the short guy’s attention. He fished out the money and the register made a clanking sound as she rang him up.
Quarterback Brett continued to stare his way.
Some hick town football player wasn’t intimidating him. At some of the group homes he’d lived in, he’d bunked in with gang members—some he was sure had committed murder—thieves and general badasses. Slowly he lifted the magazine, unaware of what article he’d opened it to, his gaze still on the guy. Finally, Quarterback Brett gave him a small nod, then turned his attention back on his friends as they left.
“Cheeseburger and fries.” The cute waitress slid the heaping plate in front of him, along with a glass of water. “Good milkshake, huh?”
He looked down to see he’d managed to drink half of it already. And it had been good. “Best I’ve ever had.”
She leaned one hip against the counter. “That’s ’cause we use real milk, real ice cream and old-fashioned chocolate syrup we make right here.”
“Really?” he asked as he loaded ketchup over his fries. “Everything cooked fresh like that?”
“Of course, darlin’” the cashier lady, Lorna, said, sauntering over. “This is my place and I refuse to use frozen anything. Buy the vegetables and meat from the local farmers. Even buy the rolls from the bakery round the corner. Try a bite.”
Not arguing with her pointed look, he sank his teeth into the burger. God, it tasted fantastic, with all the dripping cheese, perfectly grilled meat and the crisp veggies.
“Good, isn’t it?” the waitress asked then laughed.
He nodded his agreement as he chewed.
The doorbell chimed again and in walked a woman with twin redheaded boys and a baby in a stroller.
“Hey, Emma,” both the women said at the same time, leaving him to eat his meal as they met the mother and her kids.
As he ate his meal he tried to listen to their conversation, but got lost in the chatter of all three women and the little boys. What he did learn was the cute waitress was the café owner Lorna’s daughter. Apparently, she also babysat on a regular basis for the family.
Slowing down his eating, he flipped through the magazine and watched as more people flitted in and out of the café, which seemed to be the place to meet and hang out in town. Even a few of the local deputies stopped in for an iced tea or milkshake. Finally most of the other customers had left. He looked down and realized he was on his last French fry. Time to pay up and head back to Colbert House.
Banyon would be all over him about a job. He was that kind of guy. Probably nag him until he got one or report him to the State and get him sent back to Columbus.
“You gonna eat that, or just hang out until dinner service starts?” Rachel was back, one brow raised in question as she slipped him his bill.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long.”
She flashed him a little grin. “No problem. I’ll meet you up at the register.”
He popped the last fry in his mouth and looked at the bill. Great, he had just enough to pay for lunch and leave her a nice tip—and he was leaving her a good tip. For the first time in a long time, someone had made him feel welcome in a new place.
With more confidence than he’d had when he’d come in the café, he walked up to the register.
Once again she gave him that grin as she took the ticket and rang up the amount. “So, you’re new in town or just passing through?”
Some of the air seeped out of his new found confidence. Once she learned he was at Colbert House he’d guarantee all her friendliness would disappear. But he’d decided long ago he’d make no apologies for who he was or what problems life had dealt him.
“Yeah. I’m the new kid.” He pulled out his wallet and the lone ten sitting in it.
She hesitated before taking the bill from him. “Where are you and your folks living?”
“My parents are dead. I’m over at the Colbert House.”
“So you’re out looking for a job?” When she handed him his change, he looked up expecting to see scorn or even fear in her eyes. Nope. They were still clear blue, but maybe a little inquisitive.
What? Did everyone in this town know the house’s rules?
“Yeah. House rules.”
“Any luck?” She leaned one hip against the counter, her head tilted to the side. For the first time in his life, it felt like someone honestly wanted to know how things were going for him.
“Not really. Just sort of been looking around, mostly. Trying to get a lay of the land and see what might be available.”
“Ever wash dishes?”
“Sure. Why?”
She gave him a wink and pushed away from the counter. “Hey, Mom. Come out here a second,” she yelled into the kitchen.
A minute later the owner, Lorna, emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “What’s up, Rachel?”
Rachel. That was her name. He tried it over in his mind. Yep. It seemed to suit her. Smart. Friendly. To the point.
“I think I solved your help
problem,” she said, looking from her mother back to him. “This is…?”
“Oh, Kyle,” he held out his hand to Lorna. “Kyle Gordon, ma’am.”
The café owner shook his hand in a strong one of her own. “Glad to meet you, Kyle.”
“Kyle’s new over at the Colbert House and he’s looking for work. Knows how to wash dishes,” Rachel said with a head tilt at her mother.
“Does he now?” Lorna gave her daughter a shrewd stare then turned her attention back to him. “Ever worked in a café, Kyle?”
Might as well be up front, she’d figure it out soon enough. Better to not get the job, then have it pulled out from under him.
“No, ma’am. But the last house I was at, we were assigned chores on a regular basis. I’ve done my share of dishes.”
She laid one hand on the counter, the other fisted on her hip just where the apron hitched up to tie in back, her lips pressed in a serious line as she studied him up and down. “Kinda scrawny. When was the last good meal you ate?”
Despite how nervous her look made him, he couldn’t fight the grin as he answered. “About ten minutes ago when Rachel served me up one of your burgers, fries and chocolate shake.”
That stern face of Lorna’s cracked into a big grin of her own as she let out a cackle of a laugh. “Good answer, son. How about you show up here around five, tell Todd Banyon you’ll be working for me. Money is minimum wage, plus a share of the daily tips. If you’re a hard worker and as smart as I think you are, we might just make it permanent. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She started to head back into the kitchen, then stopped. “Rachel, give the boy back his money. You know the policy. Employees get all their meals free here.”
“You got it, Mom.” Rachel hit the keys on the register, popping the cash drawer open once more, took out his slip of paper and counted out the money to make his ten dollars whole again.
Stunned at his turn of good fortune, Kyle started to pocket the money, then stopped. Pulling off two crisp ones, he slid them back across the counter towards Rachel. “Here.”
Close To The Fire Page 4
