Page 7 of Deathmarch

She shook her hair forward to cover as much of her face as possible while Rose marched over, her gaze snapping to Allie’s boots.

“You got a horse out there in this weather?” she asked with the same tight expression as her son had.

“No horse. Long story.”

“Hm.” Rose looked up.

Here we go.I’m so sunk.And she was.

“Allie Bianchi.”

The words were spoken matter-of-factly, without a hint ofgood to see youin the tone.If Allie was hoping for a friendly welcome, she wasn’t going to get it from Harper’s mother.

“Mrs. Finnegan.”

Rose looked her over as she would have looked at a bag of dog poop pranksters left on her doorstep. “You’ve grown up. What brings you back to town?”

The unspoken second half of the question—And when are you leaving?—hung in the air.

“Work.”

The woman’s expression did not warm. “Are you here with your father?”

“My father passed away.”

To her credit, Rose Finnegan didn’t saygood riddance.Of course, neither did she sayI’m sorry.

In a blink, the past ten years disappeared, and, once again, Allie wanted to protest that she wasnothinglike her father. But, like back then, she didn’t think anyone would believe her.

“How long are you staying?” Rose asked when Allie wouldn’t volunteer any further information.

“Leaving tomorrow.”

Harper’s mother slid a laminated menu on the table.

Clearly,one dayhad been the right answer. Like when stage actors caught a twenty-four-hour cold that messed with their performance. They hated it, but they hated it with the appreciation that it was better than being sick with the flu for much longer.

Allie cleared her throat and ordered her old favorites on thegather ye rosebuds while ye mayprinciple. “A bowl of baked potato soup, please, and a side of stuffed cabbage. Sprinkled with bacon.”

“Drink?” Impatience saturated the single word.

“Just water, please.” Then the devil made Allie add with a smile, “Harper said to put it on his tab.”

“You ran into him already?”

Rose’s gaze hardened. Flinty. She could be that. “I thought he was out helping the town plows because they can’t keep up with the snow.”

Allie squinted.

So, he wasn’t one of the town plow drivers?He was a volunteer?Working in this weather out of the goodness of his heart.She had trouble processing the unlikely thought. The image didn’t match the Harper she remembered.

“My car slid off the road. It’s stuck in a snowbank,” she told Rose. “Harper brought me in.”

“He’s a police detective now.” Rose’s words took on a warning tone. “Did he tell you that?”

He most definitely did not.Good thing Allie didn’t have her soup yet, or she might have choked. She blinked at Rose.Harper? A cop? In what universe? Inconceivable.

Oh God. She was dead.