Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“I didn’t— I—” Her eyes skipped from one side of the booth to the other, and seeing no other customers, she leaned in, glancing down at the phone in my hand. “Could you put that away?”
Curious, I slid it into my pocket and waited.
“Here’s the thing,” she said. “I didn’t make that oak leaf necklace. The reason the maple leaf looks so much like it is, well, I know the artist who made the oak leaf. I admired her work, and I was going through a creative dry spell, and I kind of—”
“Stole her designs?” I asked.
She flinched at the words and gave a shamed nod, her eyes glued to the tray of bracelets in front of her. “Look, I’m not proud of it, okay? But times were tough, and you know how it is.”
I shook my head. I did and I didn’t. Times were always tough. And while I’d been inspired by other brewers’ creations, I’d never ripped one off. I was an artist, not a thief.
Sterling edged me back with her shoulder and flashed another of her saccharine sweet smiles. “I get it. It’s not always easy to come up with new ideas. And you did a beautiful job with that maple leaf. But we are really looking for the oak leaf. Do you remember the name of the designer? I swear we won’t say anything.”
The copper-haired jeweler’s eyes flashed from side to side again, as if making sure no one was close enough to hear. She hesitated.
“Please,” Sterling cajoled. “It would mean so much to us.”
“Buy the maple leaf and I’ll give it to you,” the designer said quickly. “But I don’t have her contact info, just a name.”
“How much is the maple leaf?” I asked, my voice considerably less sweet than my sister’s. Sterling could be a little con artist when she wanted to. For better or worse, I didn’t have that in me. The jeweler inched closer to Sterling and said, “Two hundred fifty.”
“Done,” Sterling answered, shooting me a quelling glare.
I started to say something, and she whacked me with her elbow. “Done,” she said again, and I shut my mouth.
“I’ll pay you back half,” I muttered as the jeweler turned and dug in a bin beneath the table, coming up with the gold maple leaf.
Pulling out a business card, she wrote a name on the back. “This is her. I don’t know if she’s still in the area. Honestly, I haven’t seen her around in a while. But, you know, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I’d appreciate it if you kept me out of it when you find her.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Sterling said. “All we want is the necklace. And thanks for this,” she held up the box with the maple leaf. “It’s really pretty. You do nice work.”
We strode away, Sterling gripping the box with the necklace so hard her knuckles were white. “It’s a little scary,” I said, “how full of shit you can be.”
“I know,” she said brightly, “but I only use it for good these days.”
“What are you going to do with that name?” I asked, sensing that with her programming skills and close relationship with Hawk, she was the best person to hunt down the name the jeweler had given us. “I don’t recognize it, but that doesn’t mean much.”
“You’re a beer hermit. You don’t know anybody unless they’re in brewing.”
“True,” I said. “But at least now we know where to start.”
Chapter Seven
WEST
Your mother wants you to come for dinner tonight. 6:30 p.m.
Don’t be late. We haven’t seen you in weeks.
Itried to ignore the twinge of annoyance at my father’s text. It was so typical of him. First, the command performance. Of course, he’d assume I’d be there just because he said so. Also, on brand for my father: using my mother as the excuse, because God forbid, he takes full accountability for anything. And no communication would be complete without the sprinkle of guilt at the end, the seasoning on the meat of his demand.
We haven’t seen you in weeks.
Bullshit. I’d seen my mother just a few days ago when she’d stopped in to drop off cookies at the station. Everyone loved my mother, the sweet, slightly dotty mayor’s wife. At least that’s what she wanted everyone to think.
She showed up with baked goods, smiled, batted her eyelashes, patted my head, and left, vacuuming up every bit of gossip she could along the way. She’d always been the perfect partner for my father—genuinely beloved by the town, and sharp enough to use her information network to her—and his—advantage.
She and I would never see eye to eye when it came to my father’s role as mayor, but I could live with that. I loved my mom, and in her own way, she’d always been in my corner. To her, I wasn’t a tool to be used.