Since she’d just spent Friday night at the Kingfishers’ plotting the protection of Winter’s career, Macy understood completely. “Give it a shot. I’ll talk to Christina and Leanne, and even if it’s you and me...” Macy shrugged. She would be content. She was already content to have made a plan with Astrid. Just when things had gotten so bleak, it looked like she was making a turn that led to better things. Life was funny that way.
“I got a few new romances in and the crazy thriller everybody’s talking about. Nobody knows it’s here yet,” she added in a singsong. “Want to check it out?”
Macy laughed. “Yes, of course I do.”
“Holding books for a day for my favorite customer is pretty much the extent of my power as town librarian. Benefit from it.” Astrid produced a book as if out of nowhere and pressed it into Macy’s hands.
Being called her favorite was nice. It was like being a VIP at the library. Awesome.
Macy handed her library card over and brushed off both shoulders. “Good to know I have such powerful friends.”
As she sauntered out of the library, Macy decided that getting away from the ranger station now and then was worth it. She might have ulcers, thanks to her worry about what was happening without her, but she’d managed some good work that day.
On her way back to the car, she stuck her head in to invite Leanne to The Branch. The shock on her face before Janet accepted for her was worth it. Who cared what people said? Macy knew for a fact that people could be wrong, wrong, so very wrong.
Then she settled in her car, pulled her phone out to check for an update from Ash and cursed under her breath when there was no news. “Of course not. He got what he wanted. He’s not thinking of me.” Determined to do the same, Macy pulled out on Main Street, made a circle through town and hit the road to Gatlinburg.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DURING A FUN couple of hours in Gatlinburg, Macy had lunch, scouted future girls’-night-out locations, which were slim, and entered the camera shop where she gritted her teeth through a solid hit to her credit card. Buying a digital SLR camera with enough bells and whistles to make taking a photography class worthwhile wasn’t cheap.
It was easy, though.
And before she knew it, Macy was headed back to Sweetwater under the happy haze of good food, plans for the future and some retail therapy. All in all, a successful day.
Then she remembered she still had to go to the grocery store.
“Not even that is going to put a dent in my mood. Not today.” She tipped her head up, determined to make the quick stop.
The closer she got to Sweetwater, dread swamped her.
“I hate that place,” she muttered as she made the turns necessary to roll into the parking lot.
Cooking would never make her short list of potential hobbies. Yes, she loathed the grocery store, from all of the walking up and down the same aisles to the hassle of dragging all the bags back into her apartment and unpacking them before she could make herself something to eat. It was so inefficient. Also, she lived alone. She might be able to pawn some of her creations off at the ranger station, but most days, the staff there was limited. The volume of leftovers would eventually overwhelm her.
Ash might appreciate it if she experimented with new dishes, but if she tried to bring in a fancy casserole, he’d be out. Not only out, he’d be mad about it. She’d imagined his lack of food bravery to be the result of limited exposure.
That had been before she met his parents. Donna Kingfisher had no doubt put a fancy casserole down on the family table more than once. And Ash would have been the dutiful son and eaten what was in front of him, even if he’d made the rosehip-tea face, too.
“Photography is a much better choice. No grocery store, fewer dirty dishes and it was an incentive to get out into the Reserve more often. Girls’ night out is a strong addition, too.” And the bonus? She didn’t need Ash Kingfisher for either.
Rolling her eyes at how often her thoughts returned to Ash, Macy lifted her phone out of her purse. She’d managed to make it through the entire day without texting him. If she did it now, what could it hurt?
You said I couldn’t do it. Want to apologize now or wait until I get into the station in the morning? Macy hesitated before she hit Send. Was it the right tone? She tapped her lips as she tried to come up with something even more gloating. “An emoji. Like a big ol’ grinning yellow face.” She flipped through the choices before sighing. None of them captured the proper tone. “Not gonna lug themselves home, Macy Elizabeth.” She hit Send, shoved her phone back in her purse and slid out of the car.
After her trip down the first aisle was aborted, thanks to a cart with a wonky wheel, Macy picked up her speed with the rest of her shopping. She’d managed to hit all the most important junk food groups and the incredibly important, life-sustaining eggs, cheese and milk aisle. Scrambled eggs were never sexy; they were always easy and fast. Macy quickly counted up the items in her basket and kicked the wheel when she realized she’d missed twenty items or less by four. She trudged over to the longest line and settled in to wait. She heard the ding of an incoming text but before she could pull her phone out of her purse, someone said, “Girl, I did not expect to see you out and about this afternoon.” Christina Braswell was in the shorter express line. If anyone could make grocery shopping glamorous, it was Christina. She was wearing the same jeans and T-shirt Macy had seen her in when they’d had lunch together, but under a coat that managed to be both puffy and sleek only on her.
“Can’t remember if I’ve ever seen you out of the uniform. Bet you seem six inches shorter in jeans.” Macy knew it was simply an observation, but coming up with an appropriate response was beyond her.
Then she remembered her promise to Astrid. “If you can take the time away from your true love, Astrid and I are having dinner at The Branch next Friday. Want to join us?” Macy tapped her fingernail on the shopping basket, the nerves surprising her. “Leanne already said yes.”
Christina whistled loud and long, drawing a few stares. “She agreed to come to The Branch?” She smiled. “I’ll have to join you, then, and run interference with Brett. He doesn’t want either of us in that place, because of Leanne’s sobriety.” Macy started to offer a change of venue, but Christina waved her off. “Forget it. In this town, The Branch is the place to go. It has to happen sooner or later, and I’d love to get Leanne out of her apartment.”
“Okay. Astrid and I were talking about making it a regular thing.” Macy kept her tone light and airy as if it didn’t matter much. “Leanne can definitely pick the next place.”
“Good idea.” Christina left her much better spot and took the place in line behind Macy. “Bit of a day out at the Reserve, wasn’t it? I figured everyone was laying low, licking some wounds, and I don’t know... Maybe polishing their résumés.” She sighed. “Brett refuses to do that, but I keep telling him, if Ash goes, he might be next. The chief ranger will be careful about keeping on anyone loyal to Ash. He’s good at his job, but when the guy in charge wants you gone, it can be very hard to stay.” She obviously realized where she was because she sent two quick peeks over both shoulders to make sure no one was close enough to hear what she’d said.
Since it was Sweetwater and this was the only grocery store in town, there were at least five heads turned in her direction.
Christina winced and bent closer. “Are you okay?”
Mad at Ash Kingfisher all over again for leaving her out of what had obviously turned into a Big Deal, Macy leaned closer. “Ash insisted I take a sick day. I didn’t but I didn’t go into the ranger station, either. What did I miss?”
Christina’s eyebrows shot up. “Missed all the excitement. Probably for the best.”
Before Macy could ask for details, Christina whispered, “They were ambushed. At the press conference.”
For the second time that day, Macy’s heart lu
rched into a full gallop, making it hard to breathe. When the cashier yelled, “Next!” Christina urged her to step forward. Macy quickly unloaded her basket and turned back. “The chief ranger was there?” Her horrified whisper carried halfway to the back of the store, but there wasn’t much she could do to lower her tone. Was it her fault, the result of her grand speech over banana nut bread? The only real advantage they’d had was surprise. If the chief ranger had been there...
“Not the chief ranger. Whit Callaway. The younger Whit Callaway. Junior. Wonder if he hates being called Junior. We should try to get that trending. The weasel can’t be on the up-and-up. Brett was left out of the conversation, but when he described seeing the guy in person, he used the words fake and smarmy and since Brett is the nicest guy I know...” Christina’s eyes were wide as she shook her head slowly. “I heard it was a theatrical display, but only from one side. Whit was outraged at the way the Kingfishers were trying to use the press conference to try to stop the lodge project. Ash and Winter, they were dumbfounded. Brett said he managed to escort Whit inside, but he had no idea how everything turned out. Those reporters waited for Junior to come out and then for Winter to answer questions. Brett said they stayed for hours.”
Macy was frozen as she imagined what that must have looked like, how Ash and Winter would have struggled to adjust to Whit’s sudden appearance.
None of them were prepared for this kind of drama.
“Your total is $63.67.” The cashier was watching her closely, in order to catalog all the details, so she could pass them along to every shopper that came behind Christina. “You can run your credit card now.” She dipped her chin down to motion to the card reader.
Impatiently, Macy swiped her card.
“That’s all I know,” Christina said as she plopped her basket in front of the cashier. Her apologetic grimace before she glanced around at their small, interested audience made it easier for Macy to load up her bags. She’d get the rest of the information directly from Ash. Even if she had to threaten him with fancy casseroles.
“Thanks, Christina.” She tried to communicate a whole conversation with her eyes. I will be into the campground diner tomorrow. There we will exchange phone numbers. Instead of saying any of that, she raised her hand and headed out of the store as quickly as she could without running. She tossed the groceries into the trunk, slammed it shut and dug around in her purse to yank out her phone. She was already composing the quickest message of her life when she noticed the text.
At first, she thought Ash had answered her.
Then she realized it was from her boss, the big boss, the head of Administrative Services for the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve. She worked for Ash day to day, but Monica Grey had hired her, would fire her if it came to that, and she wanted to talk to Macy.
The instant hard lump in her throat took a minute to clear, so Macy reversed out of her parking spot and did her best to slowly turn into the nearly nonexistent rush hour traffic trickling through Sweetwater. It had been about fifteen minutes since Monica had sent the text. Should she forget the groceries and dinner and head to the small cabin on the Reserve that Ash used and find out what was going on?
Her first instinct was to pick up a sword and rush to Ash’s side. Why was Monica calling her?
“No way to know but to call her back, Macy.” As soon as she parked in front of her apartment, Macy made the call. She gripped the steering wheel tightly while she waited. Maybe it was too late in the afternoon to catch her. What if she’d left early?
“Monica Grey,” she answered smoothly.
“Hey, Monica, it’s Macy,” Macy added on a strangled cough when she realized how perky she sounded. Nerves did that to her. She overcompensated with cheer.
“Oh, yeah, hey. Ash emailed first thing this morning to tell me you were sick and request Nicole’s help. I didn’t want to disturb you if you were still feeling terrible, but I need to get you to come into the office tomorrow. Can you do that? If you’re still ill, you can head back home afterward, but we need to talk.”
Macy waited for more explanation, but silence was her answer.
“I’m planning to be back at my desk in the morning, but I could make the trip to Knoxville if you need to see me. Can we talk about this over the phone instead? If not, is Nicole available to cover a few hours?” Macy asked.
Monica cleared her throat. “Well, that’s what we need to talk about. When you come in tomorrow, we’re going to discuss your options with the Reserve.”
Macy stared hard at the number four on her apartment door as she tried to decipher what that meant.
“Options instead of working at the Otter Lake Ranger Station?” Macy asked slowly.
Silence was her answer again, and then Monica sighed. “You have a job at the Reserve, Macy. Don’t worry about that, okay? It’s just that...” Monica cleared her throat. Was she nervous? “Ranger Kingfisher has recommended that you be moved from the ranger station to another post. He believes Nicole is a better fit at this time, although he has written one of the most glowing recommendations I’ve ever read. I’d like you to meet with the chief ranger. He’s searching for a new assistant. You could fill the spot.”
Macy closed her eyes and tried to refocus them on the number four again. Everything was hazy.
“Tomorrow at nine? Does that work, Macy?” Monica asked. Had she been forced to repeat herself? Macy wasn’t sure.
Eventually, she managed to agree that the time would work and ended the call.
Getting out of the car was impossible, however. Instead, she leaned her head back against the headrest and stared at the fabric upholstery on the ceiling without seeing it.
Ash Kingfisher had managed to surprise her.
He’d done the one thing she’d never imagined he’d do, and it hurt worse than she could have guessed.
He’d fired her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WALKING DOWN THE street in Sweetwater had never seemed intimidating to Ash Kingfisher. He’d grown up on Main Street. Smoky Joe’s had been there as long as he could remember. Sometimes the scenery changed a fraction; shops like Sweetwater Souvenir moved in. This time, Janet Abernathy and Regina Blackburn had given the storefront a face-lift; some of the other shops lining the busiest street in town had done little but change the name on the door. Since the town had been incorporated around the turn of the nineteenth century, the storefronts were unique and could seem frozen in time.
When he walked into his barbershop, the place he’d had his hair cut ever since his mother had given up on long hair as a statement, time seemed to stop.
The small crowd of regulars there were in the middle of a conversation, but everything halted as soon as the electric doorbell announced his arrival.
His barber, Andy, raised his hand. “All right, Ash?”
After giving the other men in the small room a quick scan, Ash nodded. “You have time for a trim before you close?” Woody Butler was seated in Andy’s chair, his eyes locked on Ash in the mirror. The old guy had a good head of hair, but how long could it take to give him the same cut he’d had since Reagan was president?
“All right, Ash.” Andy nodded toward the straight-backed bench he kept in the shop window. Saturdays could be busy, so Ash avoided them. Andy’s was a gathering place for every old-timer with a few hours to spare.
Monday evenings, half an hour before closing, had always been Ash’s time slot. He’d never encountered a crowd like this.
If he’d wanted a place to make his case to Sweetwater’s movers and shakers, this wasn’t it, but this was a solid link in the town’s informal communication network.
All eyes were locked on him; but before Ash could make a thing of that, his old high school principal walked out of the tiny restroom at the back of the shop.
Still, not one of them said a word.
If Ash were a betting man, he’d make a
wager that he’d been the subject of conversation before he’d entered. Another option: the Reserve and its troubles. Could be the weather, but they’d have no hesitation to complain about the cold weather, no matter the audience.
He’d spent a fair amount of time in the barbershop since he was a young kid. Weather conversation pretty much followed a pattern. If temperatures were dropping, they’d say it was too cold. And the reverse when temperatures were rising.
This strange silence in the unusually crowded room was a brand-new thing. It made Ash uncomfortable.
“Here. Turn that up.” Woody pointed up at the television in the corner of the room. Andy left it muted most of the time, so it was often ignored, but the subtitles along the bottom announced an upcoming segment on the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve. When Bailey Garcia’s face filled the frame, Ash had to bite back a moan. It wasn’t that he was surprised. She’d asked him for an interview, so he knew she was working on a story.
The chief ranger hadn’t fired him. Not yet. He was going to be spit polished the next time he appeared on camera while representing the Reserve.
Unless this crowd of old codgers chased him away.
“All right, Woody.” Andy brushed off his shoulders and removed the cape that was taped together with shiny duct tape in three different places. Nothing changed in Andy’s shop, not even things that should be tossed into the garbage.
Woody slowly stood up and stretched, his attention on the television. “Can’t miss this story right here. Believe I’ll have me a seat. Wife’s making meat loaf.” His grimace suggested he was in no hurry to get home.
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