“Please.” My voice was a whisper. “Please, just wait until tomorrow morning. We can have breakfast. I’ll pay. Just promise me you won’t leave tonight.”
He didn’t respond, but I saw the emotion in his eyes. They glittered in the dim light. “Six…”
“Promise me. Please.”
“I promise,” he finally whispered. “Now go back inside.”
I stood and watched him drive away, his taillights disappear down the road.
I never saw him again.
Two weeks later, I got off the school bus and got the mail out of the box. I flipped through the stack. There was a letter addressed to me. The return address was a law firm in New Orleans.
I paused halfway to the house as my mother’s words came back to me.
You’ll get a letter from the attorney.
She hadn’t been delirious. She’d meant it.
Hurrying inside, I went to my room and sat on my bed, tearing it open. I quickly scanned the contents.
My mother left me fifty thousand dollars.
My mouth fell open.
I read on. I was to receive fifteen thousand immediately and the balance when I turned twenty-four. I was required to sign some paperwork and was asked to come to the office on the afternoon of the thirty-first.
I glanced at the calendar on my wall.
That was this Friday.
Everything my mother told me came back to me. She’d been afraid my brothers would be furious when they found out she left me money, and perhaps they would take it from me. Or maybe it was just Remy she’d been concerned about.
Sitting on my bed, I considered my next move. I would be eighteen tomorrow. I worked weekends at a hamburger placeand had a bank account with an automatic deposit for my paychecks.
The attorney could transfer the amount to that account.
My mother was on the account because I was fifteen when I opened it, but my father wasn’t. So, he’d never know about the money unless my statement came in the mail. But I could change those to online statements.
I’d go to the meeting, sign the paperwork, and get my money.
By the time my father and brothers figured out what Mama had done, I’d be long gone.
CHAPTER ONE
Present day Durango, Colorado
Maggie—
“Oh, here’s a good one,” I say, leaning behind the bar. My head bartender stands next to me as I scan my phone for our latest reviews. “If the motorcycles parked out front aren’t enough to scare you off, then come on in for a taste of pure Durango. It's not as bad as it sounds, but a Saturday night can quickly get out of hand when the college crowd from Fort Lewis shows up, or Thursday nights when it's bike night. Just a friendly heads-up, slip out the side door when the shots of tequila start pouring.”
“Listen to this one,” Ray says. “Feels like a local's place. Looks a little run down but comfortable. We liked the vibe. We had Bloody Marys and brunch here on a Sunday morning. It was fun, and they have a jukebox, which is always a good time! What a relief to find a place that's not overly pricey or touristy. This is just our kind of bar. Very friendly bartenders and a relaxed environment.” He looks up from his phone with a grin. “I’d say those were positive. What are you worried about? People love this place.”
“I know, but everything on Main is turning so upscale. The place three doors down sells pear-smoked bacon and biscuits with duck fat gravy.”
“Not everybody likes that fancy-shmancy stuff. Who wants roasted bone marrow, for God’s sake? And I hear their burgers start at twenty bucks, and their martinis are seventeen. Hell, you can’t get a draft beer for less than ten. That’s insane.”
“But, Ray, the place isalwayspacked. I’m afraid we’re missing the boat. I’m barely keeping this place afloat; meanwhile, they’re over there raking in a fortune.”