Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Rory made a small slurping sound as she sucked in a noodle and brought her fingers to her mouth. “No. Romeo is…the quintessential Romeo. Picture a combo of Elvis Presley and Prince Charming and you’ll have a good idea of my younger uncle.”
“Prince Charming isn’t a real person.”
“Some say the same about Romeo.”
I smiled as I sat back in my chair, taking her in, my curiosity about this mysterious Casteel family growing by the minute.
“And they both run Cakes and Ale.”
She took a sip of wine and then shook her head. “No, only Romeo does. Cassius captains a fishing boat. So, you were right in one regard, he’s not actually a pirate, but he does live his life on the sea.”
The picture she was painting was beginning to form, her place in that small fishing town where her family owned a bar on the docks coming to life. Which in some strange way was making her feel more real to me too. Since that night in Mud Gulch, part of me had convinced myself she was a fantasy that had faded to mist as I drove out of town. I hadn’t actually wanted to picture her as a flesh-and-blood woman going about the business of living her life because…Why, Gage?
Because then I might have considered going back.
I let out a long quiet sigh that she didn’t appear to hear because she was chewing a bite of bread, using her finger to wipe the butter from the corners of her mouth and introduce new levels of torture.
“And do you help run it too? Or do you mostly just make questionable red velvet concoctions?”
“You’re having a hard time getting over that, aren’t you?”
“I have to imagine, Cakes, that the entirety of the clientele at your tavern is having a hard time getting over that.”
She laughed but pushed at me lightly. “Stop it. It wasn’t…that bad.”
I squinted one eye and grimaced, feigning deep suffering, to which she grinned and pushed me again.
“To your question, I do a little bit of everything, but mostly I wait tables, and sometimes bartend on Romeo’s off days.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
She shrugged, twirling the last bit of pasta on her plate and bringing it to her mouth. She appeared to be pondering my question as she chewed. “It’s fine.”
“Fine. Uh-oh.”
She gave a small laugh but it melted into a sigh. “Yes, it’s fine. Not great, not a dream come true, but truthfully? I don’t even know what my dream is. All I know is that my uncles stepped up for me when I had no one else in the world, and there’s no way I’d abandon them. The only reason I’m here now is because I came upon that napkin which is the first tangible clue I’ve ever had to follow to find my father. And I found it right after Cash’s boat was damaged and is undergoing repairs. So he’s available to watch the brood, while I sneak around people’s homes and dig around in their attics under false pretenses.”
I gave her a wry smile. “I wondered about the brood.”
“The brood is being well cared for. Or at least, well fed. My uncle Cassius sends me a proof of life picture each morning.” She smiled. “Anyway, you originally asked about Mud Gulch, and the main thing to know is that when you’re from Mud Gulch, you either stay or you go for good. Most of my friends from high school went away to college and then made their lives elsewhere.”
“Your mother came back,” I noted.
She chewed a bite of bread thoughtfully for a moment. “Yes, but I think it might have been because she had no choice. Something happened here that spring that made her run back home. Maybe it was only that she got pregnant with me, but I have this feeling there’s more to the story.”
“Hence the art.” I glanced over to where the unopened bag sat on my dining room table.
“Yes, hence the art,” she said.
“Speaking of which, how about we look through it? You said you hadn’t checked out Mrs. Ramsbottom’s offerings yet?”
She snorted. “It sounds like there’s a dirty joke in there somewhere, but I don’t think I’m clever enough to find it.”
I laughed as I scooted the barstool out and started clearing our dishes. “I’ve known the Ramsbottoms all my life. I can let you in on all the clever Ramsbottom combos.”
She laughed as she stood up. “You do realize I might be a Ramsbottom.”
I groaned and flattened my palm over my forehead. “Rory Ramsbottom. If you are…I’m so sorry.”
She laughed again, a silly giggle that made her put her hand over her mouth. I smiled in response, our gazes catching and both of us looking away quickly. “Uh, so, there are only four, I believe.”
Rory stepped up to the table and unzipped the zipper that curved around the canvas bag and threw back the cover. The painting on top was a pastoral in an ornate gold frame.