Free Livvie's Song by Sharlene MacLaren Page B

sound of them. I also understand there’s music above us every Saturday night?”
    “Aargh,” she growled. “And dancing, loud banter, rowdy laughter, and, I suspect, Morris isn’t the best at controlling the illicit stills in Wabash County, not to mention the under-the-table sale of spirits.” She paused and looked at him, perhaps to assess whether he shared her disapproval of those who flouted the law, then went on. “The sheriff is well-known for keeping order, mind you, but he often looks the other way when it comes to issues he considers less important. Not that I agree with him, but that’s the way of it. You’ll meet him soon enough, I’m sure. Word will spread that Joe has been replaced, and he’ll want to check you out, especially since you’re new to Wabash. That’s what he does, after all. The fellow has an eye for trouble.”
    Will didn’t miss the warning in her last sentence. But who could blame her for being hesitant to trust him? He’d come to town on the late train just a few nights ago, a bum, essentially. For all she knew, he could be a mass murderer, and yet she’d hired him, anyway, out of sheer desperation—and confidence in Joe’s intuition. He had to give her credit for going out on a limb for him. When the time presented itself, he’d be sure to thank her for that. But, first, he had to prove himself.
    Thinking about the sheriff’s inevitable visit made his nerves as agitated as a swarm of bees ousted from their nest. Yet he had nothing to be concerned about, really. He’d committed a senseless crime, yes, but no one had been injured, thank God, and he’d paid the price. The problem was, he knew he would never fully recover his former innocence. Once other people found out his history, they would forever label him a criminal, no matter how “good” he appeared or how faithfully he attended church. Well, if they forced him out of town, he wouldn’t fight them. He would simply pull up stakes and head west.
    Before leaving Welfare Island, he’d determined not to give in to worry, if he could help it. Only God knew his future, according to Harry—He even had a plan for him—and he should trust the Lord, no matter what. “You’re a Christian now, son,” Harry had said. “That makes you God’s child. You can go to your heavenly Father and know beyond a doubt that He will never leave or forsake you. The Word of God tells you that very truth.” Next, he’d rattled off a bunch of Scriptures to prove his point, but Will couldn’t recall any of them right now.
    “Well, I guess that’s about it, Mr. Taylor,” Olivia said, jumping headlong into his reminiscences. “I’ll leave you to do as you please now. I expect Joe told you to return to the kitchen around four thirty to get ready for the supper hour.”
    “That he did, but I’ll probably go down earlier so I can get started with the preparations.”
    The sudden arch of her blonde eyebrows indicated surprise and, he hoped, a hint of approval. She looked at him for a few seconds, seeming to weigh whether she should say what was on her mind.
    “What is it?” he asked.
    “Well, I…I was just thinking that since we’ll be working together, we may as well call each other by our given names. Yours is Will, if I’m not mistaken, short for William, I presume?”
    He nodded.
    “Mine’s Olivia, but you can tell by the restaurant’s name that I mostly go by Livvie. That’s what Frank—” She silenced herself.
    “Your husband.”
    “Yes,” she said with great reverence. “He’s the one who started calling me that way back in…well, way back. Anyway, it stuck. He also gave the restaurant its name, even though I’d have preferred something like Wabash Café or Market Street Restaurant.”
    He briefly considered her former husband and wondered how he had managed to capture the affections of the enchanting Olivia. He must have been something, this Frank Beckman. “I like the sound of Livvie’s Kitchen, myself,”