She was angry, her ankle hurt, and no matter how hard she’d tried, she had to accept that she couldn’t make it in Monroe—not after what she’d confessed.
There would be no more amusing Saturdays at the grill, no more explorations.
She’d have to leave, as soon as possible.
When Matthew’s truck came to a stop outside Fontanne’s Boarding House, Charlie didn’t wait to see if he
would break the silence with a goodbye. She hopped out, ignoring her ankle, and fled inside before he got it in his head that she might need his help.
Even though her coat concealed the bloodstain on her dress, the utterly annoying Mrs. Fontanne gave her a world of grief when Charlie barged in looking half wild. One heated look had shut the old woman’s mouth long enough to stagger upstairs and slam the door.
She didn’t come down for dinner.
When morning came, Charlie styled her hair to cover the small gash, packed her things, and went straight to Gap Mill’s modest train station. She was debating on destinations, ready to fork over money to hightail it to White Sulfur Springs, when someone tapped her shoulder.
Glancing back, Charlie found Eli out of breath, sweating like he’d just run a marathon.
“Miss Charlie, what are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?” Her tone was dry. “I’m getting out of Monroe.”
The boy seemed nonplused. “But… I came down to getcha. Your car is all fixed.”
The Emersons must have wanted her out of town badly to have repaired her car overnight. Frowning, she tightened her grip on her suitcase. “Then let’s not waste time.”
* * *
Matthew glanced at the clock, chewing the toothpick between his teeth.
“You can stop checking the time every two minutes, Matthew,” Nathaniel muttered, eyeballing the liquor in his jar. “She won’t get far without her car.” The glare Matthew shot his brother only made Nathaniel chuckle. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and the damn thing’ll break down again. Want me to go pull a few wires?”
Matthew turned his back on the drunken jackass and sprinkled seasoning over the steaks he’d just finished grilling.
Five minutes later, the noise of Eli’s car sounded on the drive. Peering out the window, Matthew watched Charlie climb from the blue Ford she’d abandoned ten months back.
She looked unhappy, her hands fidgeting nervously with the buttons of her coat.
Eli was quick to her side, filling her ears with a stream of babble, taking her arm so she might lean on him. His cousin dragged her up the steps and got her through the door, but when Eli began to take off her coat, Charlie held it tight, unwilling to hand it over. The kid gave a good yank and green velvet left her shoulders. There was no cotton frock underneath. Instead Charlie wore a suit far too formal for Monroe.
Seeing her dressed for the city confirmed Matthew’s suspicion—she was planning to run off.
Nathaniel gave a low whistle. “Well don’t you look purdy, Miss Charlie.”
Her brow hitched, Charlie blasé. “And it looks like you’re soused again before noon.”
“All it takes is dedication.” Nathaniel winked. “Take a seat, I’ll buy you a drink.”
As Nathaniel patted the chair at his side, Matthew set a plate on the counter before her usual place.
Steak and scalloped potatoes, steaming and smelling good, waited. But she looked down at them as if the sight made her queasy. He saw her swallow the little jump in her throat, and he knew. She stared at the plate because she couldn’t bring herself to meet the eyes of the chef.
Matthew cleared his throat, biting down on the toothpick between his teeth. “You don’t like steak?”
She limped nearer, eyes still downcast. “You made me lunch?”
He answered by setting a cup of hot tea next to the plate. That was the ticket to entice the golden girl to crawl up on her stool. Three more plates were placed out on the counter—all the Emersons, even Matthew, sitting down to eat.
One bite and the tightness around her eyes softened. She hummed appreciation, sat a little straighter… until Nathaniel opened his mouth and set her on edge. “Who taught you to throw a punch?”