Читать книгу Baby, Don't Go - Stephanie Bond, Stephanie Bond - Страница 11

“Guess where I am,” Alicia said into the phone.

“Rocky Top?” Nina asked.

“Right. Just checking my phone reception.”

“What’s the place like?”

Alicia squinted up at the white water tower that loomed over her approach. Welcome to Sweetness, the tank proclaimed. But spray-painted over the black lettering was I ♥ Nikki in red and I ♥ Amy in blue.

“It’s…quaint.” A car coming toward her honked, then the driver waved as they went by.

“What was that?” Nina asked.

“Everyone down here honks and waves,” Alicia said. “I’m driving a pickup truck.”

“Get out.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Wow, when you go undercover, you go deep. What’s your plan?”

Alicia slowed as what she presumed was the downtown area came into sight. “I’m going to find a place to talk to people without raising any red flags.” The sidewalks were surprisingly crowded. Everyone turned to look at her vehicle. “I have a feeling that everyone here can spot a stranger.”

She panned side to side, taking in the odd-looking buildings that appeared to have been constructed with a motley collection of materials—recycled materials, she realized. Her gaze landed on a sign that read Hair Salon, and she smiled into the phone. “Gotta run—I just found a place where people talk.”

After disconnecting the call, she followed signs for parking to a large grassy lot. The town was obviously preparing for the arrival of many cars, probably the Homecoming event she’d read about. She parked Bo’s smelly truck and climbed out, then made her way back to the town’s main street. On the way to the hair salon, she took stock of the businesses she’d read about on the website—the General Store, bank, the clinic and other buildings, including one that simply read Diner. It looked like a movie set for a small town…this place was surreal.

Or unreal?

The sidewalks, she noted, were more extensively networked than the buildings, hinting at more construction to come. And they were uncommonly beautiful. The light-colored concrete contained bits of colored glass—more use of recycled materials, she realized.

The people looked laid-back, dressed for the sweltering weather and moving slowly. By the matching T-shirts and hats a clump of kids wore, she assumed some sort of team sports game was about to be played. The presence of children was a little jarring—for their sake she hoped nothing illicit was going on in this town.

The hair salon, she noted wryly, featured a striped barber’s pole next to its sign. She opened the door and was immediately struck by how busy the place was—and how…segregated.

Women sat on one side of the salon, apparently waiting for one of the three female stylists working there. Men sat on the other side, waiting for one of the two barbers attending old-fashioned barber’s chairs. There was literally a wall down the center of the establishment.

Alicia’s back stiffened. Privacy was one thing, but even the waiting areas were separate?

The other thing that caught her eye was the sign that said all haircuts were five dollars.

She was in the Twilight Zone.

She walked into her gender-appropriate area and smiled at a rounded, dark-haired woman sitting there, waiting her turn. The woman looked her up and down, but offered a smile. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Alicia said. “Do you know if they take walk-ins?”

“Oh, sure,” the woman said, “but you might have to wait a while. I’m Susan Sosa.”

The introduction took her by surprise—no one in Manhattan offered their name unless they were applying for a job. “Alicia,” she responded, her mind racing for an alias last name. “Alicia Waters.”

“Nice to know you,” the woman said, then nodded at Alicia’s bag. “Beautiful purse.”

Alicia realized her Chanel bag didn’t exactly go with the rest of her outfit. “It’s a knockoff,” she lied, “but thanks.”

“Have a seat,” Susan said, gesturing to the empty chair next to her. “When did you move here?”

“I just arrived,” Alicia said, taking the proffered seat. “Actually, I was wondering what you could tell me about the town.”

Susan smiled. “It’s nice. I moved here about a year ago.”

“From where?”

“Michigan. Believe it or not, I answered an ad.”

What a stroke of luck to find one of the original women who’d come to the town looking for a man. “A newspaper ad?”

The woman nodded. “Sweetness was just being built and they needed women. I was single, laid off from my job, and I needed a fresh start, so here I am.”

Alicia offered a girlfriend smile to the pretty woman. “And how is it working out?”

“I like it here, it’s simple.” She grinned. “And there are lots of men.”

“I’ve heard that men run this town…is that true?”

“I guess so. The Armstrong brothers sort of run everything.”

“What are they like?”

Susan shrugged. “The younger brothers are nice enough—they both have sweethearts.”

“What about the older brother?”

“Marcus? He doesn’t like women.”

“He’s gay?”

Susan laughed. “No. He just keeps to himself. He has a temper, so people tiptoe around him.”

Alicia mulled the information, then gestured to the two waiting areas. “Do the men and women do everything separately?”

“Pretty much,” the woman said with a nod. “We live separately and sleep separately.”

Alicia tried to hide her surprise. “You do?”

“Like I said—simple.”

“Even the married couples?”

“There aren’t any married couples. The women and children live in the boardinghouse, and the men live in barracks.”

Alicia blinked.

“Susan,” called one of the stylists, holding up a cape. “Are you ready?”

“Excuse me,” Susan said. “Nice talking to you.” Alicia managed a smile, but was digesting the woman’s words. What was going on in this town?

She pushed to her feet and headed toward the door—she needed to find a way and a reason to stay here for a few days to find out.

“Earth to Marcus,” Porter hissed.

Marcus started, realizing he’d zoned out on the meeting with Porter, Kendall and Rachel Hutchins about the Homecoming weekend plans. Darn that dark-haired woman and her spontaneous outdoor bath. “Sorry, repeat that?”

Porter gave him a pointed look. “Kendall and I were just telling Rachel how grateful we are that she spearheaded this effort.”

“Er…right,” he said to the pretty blonde who had proved to be an organizational dynamo. “Everything sounds…great.”

When he realized his comment made it seem as if he hadn’t been listening, he added, “I know you’ve put a lot of work into this project.”

Rachel smiled. “So you’ll do it?”

He panicked. “Do what?”

“Hang the banner across Main Street,” she said, her voice irritated now that she knew he hadn’t been listening at all.

“We were saying we’ll need the cherry picker basket on the fire truck ladder to hang the banner,” Kendall said, giving him a quizzical look. “And since the fire department is your area…”

“Oh, right,” Marcus said. “No problem—I’ll take care of it. What else?”

Rachel gave him a little frown. “Here’s a schedule of the weekend events, and everything that’s still left to do in the next month.”

“We’ll provide any men you need,” Marcus said magnanimously.

“Yes, Kendall just said that,” Rachel said, her voice flat.

“Okay…anything else?”

“Just our food,” Rachel said, craning for a server.

“Our waitress seems to have disappeared,” Porter said.

“Molly probably ran her off,” Rachel offered. “That woman is impossible. And that help-wanted sign in the window is useless—word has gotten around. No one wants to work here.”

Marcus glanced around at customers sitting at cluttered tables, antsy and impatient. Others hadn’t yet been waited on. Irritation simmered in his empty stomach at the thorn in his side this place had become.

From the back came a horrific crashing noise, then Molly’s raised voice. “Get out of my kitchen!”

A young waitress came running out in tears, then bolted for the door. Molly emerged, shaking a spatula. “And don’t come back!”

Some of the customers got up and left.

Marcus stood and strode behind the counter, his anger zooming to the surface. “What’s the problem, Molly?”

The boxy woman squared her body to his. “The problem is no one around here has a head on their shoulders!”

“Molly,” Marcus said, banking his ire, “can I have a word with you in private?”

She crossed her arms over her matronly bosom. “No. Whatever you have to say, say it here.”

Marcus set his jaw and decided it was time to stop sugarcoating the situation. “You’ve had a dozen waitresses and they’ve all left. There’s a common denominator here, Molly, and it’s you!”

“I run a tight ship—it’s not my fault these flibberty-gibbet females can’t keep up!”

He pursed his mouth. “The bad service aside, the food still isn’t good enough. We’re expecting another inspection any day now, and a big crowd Homecoming weekend. Something has to change.”

She snorted. “If you think you can do a better job running this place, Mr. Marine MBA, be my guest.”

His mouth quirked. “You know the town charter specifies a woman in key positions, and the manager of the community-owned restaurant is one of those positions.”

She gave him a little smile. “Yes, it does. And believe me, no other woman around here can do this job.”

Exasperation with her and every other woman in town seized him. The fact that this restaurant could jeopardize all his plans made him see red. He’d faced down armed enemies on foreign territory, yet he had to come home and do battle in his own backyard? He lifted a shaking finger and didn’t bother to lower his voice. “I can take the next woman who walks through that door and teach her how to run this place better than you!”

The door opened and they turned to see a dark-haired woman standing there holding the help-wanted sign from the window.

Marcus’s mouth went dry—it was the woman from the creek.

“This will be fun to watch,” Molly said, then untied her camouflage apron and handed it to him. “Good luck.”