Beauty (A Midsummer Suspense Tale) (2 page)

Twenty local businesses had all accepted her resume that day, sure. Twenty people at desks who barely looked at her, or clerks that smiled pleasantly but didn’t make lingering eye contact. “We’re not hiring but will keep you on file” was the common refrain, even at the donut shop that seemed to have a weekly turnover rate for employees.

She had another half dozen resumes to drop off, at least, before she gave up completely for the day. Maybe something might come of one of them.

Just as she was about to head into the pharmacy, the pleasant scent of freshly baked cookies hit her nose, drawing her attention to the bakery next door.

Gina’s.

Gone was the old building, in its place the new one built after the fire and named after the store’s new owner—or
rightful
owner, if the gossip from Bryar’s aunts was to be believed. Gina Cassidy. Or Gina whatever-the-husband’s-name-was, as Bryar seemed to recall a wedding last month, so maybe she didn’t use Cassidy anymore.

Bryar eyed the shop. A tiny place like that probably wasn’t accepting new employees, but then she’d been walking for an hour and the rumbling of her stomach agreed with the idea to stop for a few minutes for food.

A handful of teens exited the shop before Bryar reached the door, each holding a small bag of goodies and steaming cups of what smelled like cider. She slipped inside afterward, taking in a quick look around. The space was simple but somehow cheerful even with its plain beige walls. Most of the focus went to the decorative, tantalizing snacks in display cases—pies, tarts, cookies, and cakes. Even some loaves of bread and dinner rolls. She’d had some of Gina’s cupcakes for her twenty-second birthday months ago and remembered them fondly—the girl could certainly bake.

Presently, the shop’s proprietor was nowhere to be found, so Bryar took a moment to wander. Bistro tables and tall chairs were set near the window, just three of them to accommodate a couple of patrons. Hot chocolate, cider, and coffee machines waited behind the counter for drinks, and a large display board listed prices for prepared items and details for catering. Gina had to have been around the same age as Bryar herself, and yet she had
all this
. All her own. A store, income, and
freedom
.

A sharp pang struck Bryar. Not jealousy, not even envy, just...just a longing for something that seemed so far out of her grasp. Granted, there was nothing stopping her from packing a bag and hitchhiking out of town, but while she’d been a bit of a troublemaker for years, she wasn’t
stupid
. No, if she was going to get out of Midsummer, she’d do it
right
. Make some money, save, and plan, so that when she left, she wouldn’t end up worse than she already was.
Or
get stuck having to ask for help and come home.

She paused next to the case of cookies, her stomach once again piping up to remind her to eat. Cookies were good. Of course, so was cake, and that drew her attention next to the waist-high counter and the items within.

Faces reflected on the glass top and she glanced up at them, finding a family portrait on the wall. A man and a woman Bryar didn’t recognize stood smiling next to one another, both impeccably dressed and stunning. He was white with sandy hair neatly clipped and a trimmed goatee that shimmered with gold; smart gray eyes peered straight at the camera, confident and slightly amused. The woman was smaller, her head rising just to his shoulder, with black hair artfully styled high, and flawless light brown skin that Bryar would’ve assumed was airbrushed had she appeared in a magazine. A diamond necklace glittered at her throat, and while her hands couldn’t be seen in the picture, she likely had a heavy rock on her ring finger too. In the man’s arms was a little girl in a poofy blue dress, with big dark eyes and even bigger light brown curls framing her face. A miniature version of Gina Cassidy, definitely.

Both her parents were dead now, Bryar knew. They had that in common in addition to their age.

Steps on the floor behind her jarred Bryar to attention and she swiftly turned, her long black curls whipping around her back. For a moment she stood there guiltily, like she was doing something she shouldn’t just by standing there looking at the photo. Absurd, sure, but admittedly she had terrible social skills and found most situations totally awkward whether they should be or not.

“I didn’t hear the bell,” Gina said with a friendly smile as she moved behind the counter. “Sorry about that.”

Bryar glanced at the closed shop door and bell that would’ve jangled had she come in separate from the kids. “No problem.”

“What can I get you?” Gina looked a lot brighter than when Bryar had seen her last, her eyes having lost that haunted, tired look, and her smile no longer forced. Even her posture seemed better.

Of course, the huge diamond on her ring finger probably helped matters. Gina Cassidy’s life had basically become a fairy tale, it seemed.

“I’m eying your cookies but I have to check about ingredients—are any of them guaranteed nut-free? Like no cross-contamination?”

“Yes.” Gina indicated the row of cookies. “All nut-free. I bake the peanut butter cookies and tarts at home and package them there.” She gestured to the wrapped cookies in a different case. “There are a lot of kids who come in with allergies, so I’m careful. There are also guaranteed gluten-free cookies and breads, and a few diabetic-friendly varieties of things as well.”

Bryar breathed with relief. She had an EpiPen on her at all times but really wasn’t interested in having to use it. “Some chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate.” She glanced at the racks of food and debated for a moment. “To start with, at least.”

Gina lifted her chin to indicate the seating area by the window. “Grab a chair if you like.”

Bryar was glad to, her feet were killing her. She set the useless resumes on the nearest bistro table and peeled off her leather jacket, then climbed on the high-back chair. Midsummer trundled on outside like any other afternoon, a handful of cars moving slowly down Main Street and some casual shoppers out and about. Nothing new. God, she hated the town.

Gina slipped a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream on the table, followed by a plate of cookies. “Freshly baked. Might still be a little warm.”

Warm cookies sounded heavenly but Bryar hesitated before picking one up, glancing at Gina first just as the other woman was about to back away. Sitting there in silence seemed almost as bad as sitting at home in silence, trying to ignore her aunts. “Busy day?” she offered.

Perhaps sensing the outreach or perhaps just because she was friendly, Gina smiled warmly and accepted the offer for conversation by sitting in the seat across from Bryar. “Gets dull around this time. I get a handful of kids from the high school skipping class, then that’s it for another hour unless an impulse buyer shows up.”

Boring predictable Midsummer.
But Bryar smiled instead of getting negative and instead took a bite of the first cookie. Also predictably, though
wonderfully so
, the cookie was soft and chewy and still slightly warm.

“What brings you to town?” Gina asked.

Bryar’s gaze skirted to the resumes for a moment before moving away again. She washed down the cookie with hot chocolate and licked the whipped cream from her lips.

“Job-hunting?”

“Unsuccessfully. Turns out when you have no experience, references, or education, people are reluctant to hire you. Who would’ve guessed it?”

Gina grinned. “You’re also technically from
outside
town—if you lived around the corner, that might be a different story.”

Small town thinking once again. And no way could she even briefly get her own apartment until she found the elusive job to pay for it. “Well, I’ll keep trying.”

“I could use someone around here, you know.”

Bryar blinked at her, not certain she’d heard right. Or, if she did, maybe she was completely misunderstanding the implication. “You’re hiring?”

“Part time now and then would really help me out. Dropping off deliveries so I don’t have to leave the shop—you can take my car, I’d
never
have you trekking through the sun or snow for hours like I used to. Receiving supplier shipments on certain days, running cash when holidays come up. It’s not a
lot
of work, but—”

“But I’ve never done any of those things,” Bryar blurted out and then inwardly kicked herself. “I mean, I can
learn
. I probably should’ve specified that part first.”

Of all things, Gina
chuckled
, but it was warm and eased some of Bryar’s concerns. “That’s okay. I can show you and you can learn as you go. Before you work cash, I’ll have you get a police check for insurance purposes...” The look of horror must’ve shown on Bryar’s face as that was enough to make Gina pause. “You have a record?”

“Juvenile. Minor. I never stole money. Vehicles, yes. From...nuns. Which sounds a lot worse than it actually was, and I’ve lost the job already, haven’t I?”

“You haven’t. Because at this point, at least I know you’re honest.”

“Right, if I steal from you, I promise to tell you about it.”

Gina smirked. “
And
funny. I could use that around here. I was looking at hiring a teen part time—there aren’t a lot of hours at this point, so that’s probably the most likely candidate—but sometimes I could use help during the day when they’d be in school.”

“I can help out any time. Whatever your schedule needs.” That probably sounded too desperate, but then Bryar
was
at this point. And Gina didn’t seem to mind.

“Finish your cookies while I get the calendar and we can discuss what time would work for you to do some initial training.” She slid off the chair, about to head toward the back of the room, but paused and frowned at the window. “Now that’s...weird.”

Bryar followed her gaze, narrowing her eyes. A large silver SUV rolled down the street, moving just a touch faster than most of the cars, and with rental license plates. The windows were tinted dark and paint job gleamed like new. Not someone from Midsummer, and it was doubly weird as vacationers didn’t come by in October. And the only bed and breakfasts in the area were in the other direction.

“Very strange,” Bryar agreed as they watched the vehicle continue on until it was out of sight.

The one thing about small town gossip, at least, was that she’d hear sooner or later who the mysterious new addition to town was. People couldn’t help but talk about it.

****

Sean Philip Sawyer was grateful for the tinted windows—his head was killing him and the bright afternoon light wasn’t helping matters. Too much to drink last night, despite his resolve that he’d stay sober, and now it was catching up with him.

Everything was catching up with him, it seemed.

He leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, and breathed in deeply through his nose. The voices around him continued to chatter; the driver, Jeffrey, had remained silent as usual, but Scott and Val were nattering on in the row of seats ahead of his. Talking about what, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. Tuned them out.

Tuned everything out.

Midsummer, the town was supposed to be called. Visiting Midsummer in October—he was wryly amused at the thought. It was out of the way, well down the coast away from any cities, some tourist stop that went dead around this time of year. They hadn’t planned to go anywhere in particular but then he’d found this spot. Somewhere he wouldn’t be recognized, wouldn’t be hounded, wouldn’t be followed. Wouldn’t be asked questions he didn’t know how to answer.

Granted, such a place didn’t really exist, he knew. Sawyer had been at this long enough to realize that. But hopping on a plane would just arouse more questions, draw more attention to him. Staying in the country seemed like the best option.

For now.

“There’s a hotel—” Val started, and both her tone and rising volume drew Sawyer’s focus as it was clearly aimed at him.

“No hotels,” he said.

“It would be safer—”

“No hotels.” Safer, no. What she meant was “room service.” Val liked that part. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed—she had few of the headaches and got all the benefits as his sister accompanying him places. She liked the part where they were waited on hand and foot, since she’d done most of that herself when they were kids and dirt poor. But they weren’t out here on vacation, no matter what she decided to call the trip.

“Bed and breakfast,” Scott offered.

But Sawyer shook his head to that too. “Rented house. Out of the way. You know the drill. I already picked the place.” And put down the money for a month. He figured they’d end up there a week, maybe two, but maybe they’d get lucky. Either way, it was set, and the driver knew the way.

Scott and Val went silent ahead of him. Not just ignoring him, but entirely silent. So they didn’t like his plans. Did he care? No. They didn’t have to come along—he sure as hell didn’t ask them. Let him brood alone in silence out in the middle of nowhere, he’d be fine with that. But no, they had to tag along, probably to ease their own worries rather than his. So they’d follow his damn rules in the meantime.

He felt the frown creeping on his face, tried to relax again but then the previous relaxation was just pretend anyway. Sawyer was tense, wound tight, stress and worry clawing at him no matter how he tried to ignore it. And exhaustion. Bone-deep weariness he couldn’t shake no matter the time that passed.

The SUV jostled around on a rough road, suggesting they were out of town already and headed deeper into the country, and the movement just reminded him his head hurt. There wasn’t much change in the noise level, at least—Midsummer had been fairly silent as they rolled through the downtown. Population had to be a couple thousand and much of the citizens were spread out in farmland and big country homes. Soon the rush of water sounded in the distance, over the faint noise from the SUV’s heaters. He’d rented a beach house, something reported isolated on a good chunk of property. Normally it would have to be booked months in advance, but only if he’d come during the summer. In fall, it was empty, and the realtor had been more than happy to offer it when his people called.