Page 16 of The Night
“She must look like her mother,” Jess said. She looked fondly from me to Hazel and back.
I smiled sadly. “She really does.”
Jess frowned like she was gonna ask a follow-up, like where Norawasexactly, but before she could, the teenager at her table stood up and saved me by handing me a business card.
“Sam Henderson,” the girl said. “Best babysitter in town with the most reasonable rates. Call me.”
“Oh. Wow. How… entrepreneurial. But I’m only gonna be here for a couple hours, so I’d hate for you to waste a card.” I tried to hand it back, but she shook her head.
“Keep it. I have plenty.”
Was everyone in this town so… volunteery? I’d lived in my place for almost four years and I knew exactlyoneneighbor. I could notimagineintroducing myself to a complete stranger, let alone volunteering Hazel’s name to anyone I hadn’t vetted. But if there was one thing all my travel had taught me, it was how to adapt.
“Right. Awesome.” I slid it into my pocket and gave her a polite smile. “Appreciate it.”
Gideon frowned at me like I was a specimen under glass or a crossword puzzle clue he couldn’t solve.
“What?” I demanded.
“Nothing.” He looked away. “What about Jay Turner?” he asked the room at large, since the entire bakery was clearly invested now.
The older gentleman at Parker’s table glanced at Parker and shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think he’d be up to it, Gideon. Jay’s not doing so great. You know how he gets when the weather turns.”
“Henry, the man’s been complaining about his creaky knees as long as I’ve known him, and he still managed to win the limbo contest at the freakin’ Pumpkin Festival. All he has to do is sign a form.”
“But it’s icy cold out there! And Jay’s in his eighties. You don’t mess around with fall risks in your eighties, Gideon.” He shook his head. “You know, I broke my leg about a year ago, and to this day my grandson has to—”
“There’s not a person in this bakery who’s not intimately aware of every detail of your broken leg and how Everett helps you,” Gideon snapped. “Paul Fine, then! He’s a notary, right?”
Parker nodded once, almost reluctantly. “He is. He’s the only other one I can think of.”
“And he’s in town? Not on vacation? Not sick or arthritic?”
“Uh. Not that I know of.” Parker looked around at the other patrons, who all shrugged noncommittally, and added, “But he might not be around! Heisthe head of the town council, so he’ssuperbusy planning the Santa contestandthe Light Parade. It’s our nondenominational winter holiday festival,” he added as an aside to me.
“Oh,” I said with a nod. “Nice.”
“One ofmanyO’Leary festivals,” Gideon said, folding his arms over his chest. “Toomany.”
“You know,” Cal said pensively from behind the counter. “Somehow I’ve grown rather fond of them.”
“Et tu, Caelan?” Gideon shook his head in disgust.
Cal shrugged, supremely unconcerned. “They’re all in good fun—” he began.
“I think someone needs to explain to you people whatfunlooks like,” Gideon grumbled. “A clue: a crowd of octogenarians dancing the limbo and a bunch of idiots in Santa hatsisn’t it.”
“Oh, hey, Cal!” Parker said. He snapped his fingers like he’d had a stroke of brilliance. “Why don’t you give Paul a call and see if he can come over here to save Gideon and Liam the walk down to find him in the cold.” He tilted his head in Hazel’s direction meaningfully. “It’s after three, and he might be out with Emmylou Harris.”
“The singer?” I whispered to Gideon.
“Paul’s pug.”
“Ah,” I said, since this made incrementally more sense.
“Me?” Cal folded his arms over his chest and frowned at Parker. “Why should I call when Gideon could—”
“Because Gideon probably doesn’t have Paul’snew cell number,” Parker interrupted. “And you do.”