Kathy Altman - The Other Soldier

Gallahan caught him looking. “Yeah, I know. I forget it’s weird until someone like you comes in and looks at it like that.” He tipped his chin at the man behind the bar. “It belonged to his wife.”

“A sort of tribute?” Reid stared doubtfully at the front corner of the room, where a hot-pink salon chair faced a full-length, gilt-framed mirror draped with leopard-print garlands.

“More like a warning. She took everything he had, except for this place.”

Ouch. Reid followed Gallahan to the bar. Behind the scarred wooden counter a tired-looking man with a droopy mustache and purple half-moons under his eyes arranged cubes of cheese on a plastic platter.

Had to be Snoozy.

They ordered two brews. A man the size of an upright freezer with white-blond hair down to his shoulders and scabbed-over knuckles slapped the bar. The wood trembled.

“How about that chili I ordered?” he demanded. He pivoted to his left and caught Reid staring. “Something I can do for you, Sport?”

“Depends.” Reid swigged his beer. “Know anything about geraniums?”

The bar went quiet. Behind him Gallahan made a strangled noise. The blond behemoth narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth. Reid tensed, waiting for either an invitation to step outside or a punch to the kidney. The behemoth leaned in. Maybe a head-butt.

“Storksbills or cranesbills?”

Reid stared. Gallahan laughed and thumped him on the back. “Corporal Reid Macfarland, meet Noble Johnson, Castle Creek’s award-winning librarian. You should stop in sometime, listen to him read The Velveteen Rabbit to the kiddies. It’ll make you weep into your whiskey.”

“Kiss my ass, Gallahan.” Noble frowned at Reid. “You serious about geraniums?”

Reid’s lungs started working again. “For the next several weeks, I will be. Parker Dean’s putting me to work.”

Noble eyed Reid’s haircut. “Knew her husband, did you?” Luckily he didn’t wait for an answer. “You want my help, there’s three things you gotta do. Make a donation to the library, buy me a beer—” Snoozy slid a bowl of chili in front of Noble, who picked up his spoon and jabbed it at Reid “—and pay attention.”

* * *

“MA’AM? MA’AM. YOU all right, ma’am?”

With a start Parker realized she’d drifted away at the deli counter. She straightened out of her slouch and smiled blankly at the woman with the hair net and the curious stare. Dorothy? Delia. Parker pointed at random. “A pound of that, please, Delia.”

Delia frowned. “But you don’t like pastrami.”

Parker blinked. “Of course.” She felt a sudden swell of affection for the small community she lived in and gave Delia a grateful smile. “I’ll take the usual, please.” Three minutes later she was accepting two pounds of smoked turkey and a pound of provolone cheese. The warm-and-fuzzies lasted until she guided her cart toward the produce section and one of the wheels bumped a cardboard stand. An entire row of flower seed packets rustled and slapped to the floor. With a quiet sigh, Parker bent to scoop them up.

Maybe she’d better save the shopping for another day.

She set the last packet in place and turned to find one of Castle Creek’s newest residents hovering at her elbow. Eugenia Blue smiled warmly, and tucked her short blond hair behind her ears.

“Parker, how nice. I don’t see you in town very often.”

Parker pasted on an answering smile and scrambled for the energy to be polite. “How’re things at the shop?”

“A little slow, but you know how it is. I’ve only been open a few months.” She gestured at Parker’s cart. “Harris was running errands just yesterday morning. You should have asked him to do your shopping.”

Parker fumbled her smile. Harris would be doing a lot less for her in the future. “I was in town anyway. An appointment with the principal.”

Eugenia looked doubtfully at Parker’s jeans and polo shirt. “Everything all right?”

“As right as it can be.”

The older woman’s gaze dropped to her own basket. Carefully she studied each item, as if checking for holes or dents or bruises. “How is Harris?” she asked in a too-careless voice, and Parker’s heart went south. Harris and Eugenia had dated a few times but then Harris had announced they’d stopped.

Apparently it hadn’t been a mutual decision.

“He’s okay,” Parker said. But of course Eugenia wouldn’t be satisfied with that. Since Harris’s news wasn’t Parker’s to share, she gambled on a distraction.

She backed up and made a show of admiring the sweater set and gray pencil skirt that hugged the older woman’s trim figure. “You always look so elegant.” She nodded at Eugenia’s outfit. “One of yours?”

Cheeks flushed with pride, Eugenia nodded. “You should come by. I’m holding my first sale next week. Trying to get people to come inside instead of peering through the windows.” She plucked at her skirt. “I have something similar in sage. It’d go perfectly with your coloring.”

“I’ll try to make that sale. I don’t remember the last time I didn’t wear denim.”

Eugenia looked like she was floundering for something tactful to say when Hazel Catlett click-clacked up in her low-heeled sandals.

“Parker Dean.” Hazel was a white-haired, bright-eyed woman in her seventies who wore lipstick the color of Cheetos. She pointed with a skinny eggplant. “You look fit as a fiddle. Just like that guest of yours.”

“I’m sorry?”

“June and I—we saw your soldier out running this morning and stopped to introduce ourselves.” Hazel winked. “We couldn’t help admiring his…stride.”

Eugenia chuckled while Parker curled her fingers around the handle of her shopping cart and squeezed. Hard.

So much for small-town bliss. Yes, Castle Creek’s residents considered looking out for each other a privilege and a duty. But they also considered gossip a competitive sport.

“He’s not my soldier, Hazel. And how is June, by the way?”

“She dragged me away from Glenn Ford and Hope Lange just to look for a special kind of noodle she needs for some Thai recipe.” She leaned closer, and Parker could see that some of her bright orange lipstick had wandered off into the wrinkles around her lips. “And this is the woman who thinks almond butter is exotic.” Hazel straightened. “So, are you two an item?”

Parker was tempted to put her arm around Eugenia and smile an affirmative. But that wouldn’t be fair to Eugenia. Darn it.

“Not an item,” she said, and just the thought did unpleasant things to her stomach. “Barely friends,” she added.

If “barely” meant “when hell freezes over.”

“Don’t give up, honey.” Hazel patted her arm, then frowned at Parker’s hair, which she’d gathered at the back of her head and fastened with a big plastic clip. “Speaking of honey—”

“Isn’t that June?” Eugenia cocked her head. “Hazel, I think your sister’s calling.”

“Thank you, hon. My hearing’s not what it used to be.” She tucked the eggplant in her basket and took off for the pasta aisle.

Eugenia shook her head. “What a pair. Harris calls them Hazel and Nut.”

“Today Hazel’s the nut. Why is everyone trying to set me up?”

Eugenia shrugged. “It’s spring.”

Parker’s cell rang and she checked the ID. Harris. The knots in her stomach tightened. Something was wrong, she just knew it. She’d wanted to make the delivery herself, but that stubborn so-and-so had thrown a fit when she’d suggested it.

Please let him be okay. “What’s up, Harris?”

“I got halfway to Cherry Point before the truck broke down.”

Parker closed her eyes.

“Parker? Is everything all right?”