Free Sweet Waters by Julie Carobini Page B

to Peg, ignoring how she stiffens. “Excuse me, Peg? I think I owe you an apology.”
    That fear I noticed yesterday flashes in the old woman’s eyes again, but she holds her mouth in that constant frown.
    I continue. “I’m sorry for asking you to leave the inn yesterday.” Even though you were horrible to my boss. “And I hope we can start over.”
    Her nostrils flare, but she swallows before speaking. “You’re Robert’s child.”
    Her proclamation causes me to take a step backward. I recover, a lift in my heart. “Yes. Yes, we are Robert’s daughters. That’s my sister, Camille, over there with me. You knew our father?”
    Peg flicks a look over at Camille, who’s still talking with Holly. “Your . . . sister.”
    â€œWell, really, she’s my cousin. Her father was my mother’s brother, Grant. Maybe you knew him too? He died—”
    â€œIn a motorcycle crash. That man was trouble.”
    Her bluntness deflates me. “Please don’t say anything negative to Camille about her father. It would really hurt her. She’s been with us since she was a baby, so she’s always been like a sister to me.”
    The lines around Peg’s mouth soften and, for just a moment, I believe I’m about to see someone other than the huffy diner Nazi. Holly rushes past, calling out an order of Belgian waffles to the cook before picking up two plates from under the heat lamps. She winks at me as she darts past, and I smile. Unfortunately Peg glares at me now and my newly formed smile fades.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?”
    I shrug. “I’ve always wanted to come back home, and finally the time was right. My father passed away, and Mom remarried and left the country. This was our father’s wish . . . for us to come back to Otter Bay.”
    â€œRobert’s dead?”
    It’s been years, and yet the coarse delivery of her words stings. When I don’t answer right away, Peg takes a towel from a bucket and begins to wipe down the counter in sloppy, agitated circles.
    â€œYes, my father died six years ago. Did you know him well?”
    She shrugs one shoulder, concentrating on the counter beneath her hand. “I knew him. And Marilee too. You say she’s out of the country now?”
    â€œOn a long honeymoon.” It still seems unbelievable. “She and her husband are spending a year touring Europe, so I figured this would be the perfect time to come home to Otter Bay.”
    She stops. “Home?”
    â€œAt least for a while. That’s why I agreed to take a temporary position at the inn . . . so I could see if this move should be permanent.”
    Peg sucks in a breath and tosses the wet rag under the counter. “I see.” She stares off toward our table, where Camille fidgets with her food. “Your food’s getting cold over there.”
    I nod. “Yes, right. Can I just ask you though . . . did you know our parents well?”
    Peg’s eyes study me before she answers. “As I remember it, your mother was a beautiful woman, but your father—” her lips thin even more, if that’s possible.
    â€œThat man was no friend of mine.”
    â€œAND THAT’S REALLY ALL she said?”
    Camille continues to question me as we walk the three long blocks to view the rental house she spotted yesterday. Peg’s pronouncement about our father knocked the sea air from me and I’ve been down ever since. Thankfully I’m not due back to work at the inn until tomorrow morning.
    â€œWhen I asked her to explain, she blustered something about having to get back to work, so I limped back to the table.”
    â€œI think we should just forget about her, Tara,” Camille says, a pout in her voice. “She’s obviously deranged, and if it weren’t for Holly—and Jorge’s cooking—I’d never even want to go back there.”
    â€œI guess.