Sweet Laurel Falls by RaeAnne Thayne Read Free Book Online Page B

while probably wouldn’t
kill him. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
    Dermot smiled at him and headed to the kitchen, probably for
his juice. Through the window, Jack watched Main Street bustle to life. The
woman who was trying to change the marquee on the little two-theater cinema up
the road had to stop about five times to return the wave of someone driving
past, and a couple of women in winter workout gear who had dogs on leashes
paused at just about every storefront to talk to somebody.
    The scene reminded him of a small village outside Milan where
he had rented an apartment for two months during the construction of a hotel and
regional conference center a few miles from town. He used to love to grab a
cappuccino and sit on the square with a sketchbook and pencil, watching the town
wake up to greet the day.
    In his career, Jack had worked on projects across the world,
from Riyadh to Rio de Janeiro. He loved the excitement and vitality of a large
city. The streets outside his loft in San Francisco bustled with life, and he
enjoyed sitting out on the terrace and watching it from time to time, but he had
to admit, he always found something appealing about the slower pace of a small
town, where neighbors took time to stop their own lives to chat and care about
each other.
    Dermot walked out with his juice and a coffeepot. “Still
waiting?” he asked as he flipped a cup over and expertly poured.
    “I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”
    “I’ll keep an eye out, unless you would like me to take your
order now.”
    “No. I’ll wait.”
    A few moments later, while he was watching the dog walkers grab
a shovel out of an elderly man’s hands in front of a jewelry store and start
clearing snow off his store entrance, Maura and Sage came in. Their faces were
both flushed from the cold, but he was struck for the first time how alike they
looked. Sage was an interesting mix of the both of them, but in the morning
light and with her darker, curlier hair covered by a beanie, she looked very
much like her mother.
    The women spotted him instantly and hurried over to the
booth.
    “Sorry we’re late,” Maura said without explanation, but Sage
gave a heavy sigh.
    “It’s my fault,” Sage said. “I was so tired and had a hard time getting moving this morning.”
    “You’re here now. That’s the important thing.” He rose and
helped them out of their coats. Sage wore a bulky red sweater under hers, while
Maura wore a pale blue turtleneck and a long spill of silver-and-blue beads that
reminded him of a waterfall.
    He was struck by how thin she appeared. The shirt bagged at her
wrists, and he wondered if she had lost weight in the months since her daughter
died.
    “I’ve been enjoying the café,” he said after they slid into the
other side of the booth together, with Sage on the inside. “It hasn’t changed
much in twenty years.”
    “The food’s still just as good,” Maura said. “Unfortunately,
the tourists have figured that out too.”
    “I noticed that. It’s been hopping since I got here.”
    The conversation lagged, and to cover the awkwardness, he
picked up their menus from the table and opened them, then handed them to the
women. He hadn’t worked his way through college tending bar at a little dive
near the Gourmet Ghetto for nothing.
    “So Mr. Caine recommended the French toast.”
    “That’s what I always get when we come here for breakfast,”
Sage told him. “It’s sooo good. Like having dessert
for breakfast. Mom usually has a poached egg and whole wheat toast. That’s like
driving all the way to Disneyland and not riding Space Mountain!”
    “Maybe I’ll try the French toast this morning too,” Maura said,
a hint of rebellion in her tone.
    She seemed to be in a prickly mood, probably unhappy at the
prospect of sharing a booth and a meal with him.
    “Sorry I didn’t order coffee for either of you. I wasn’t sure
of your preferences.”
    “I usually like coffee in the morning,”