Page 21 of River Wild

She has an order pad and pencil in her hand. Her name badge says Sadie. The diner is called Sadie’s. I’m guessing she’s the owner.

She’s really pretty. About my height, five-six. Older than me. I’d say maybe early thirties. Light-brown hair, which is pinned up. A bright smile on her face.

That seems to dim when it flickers over my face.

The bruise.

Self-consciously, I tilt my head to the side, covering my cheek with my hair. The smile I was wearing just before, gone.

“Could I get a piece of cherry pie, please?” I was sold the second I smelled it when I walked in. “And a decaf tea, if possible.”

“Sure. Anything with the pie—cream, ice cream?”

“Just the pie,” I tell her.

“You got it.” She smiles again. Not writing down my order. She puts her pad and pencil on the counter.

I watch as she moves around behind the counter, getting a plate, putting a piece of cherry pie on it for me, and putting it down in front of me along with fresh cutlery.

“Any sweetener or creamer for your tea?” she asks me as she grabs a cup and makes my tea, using the machine.

“No, thank you.”

She puts a teapot, cup, and saucer down next to my pie. “You on vacation?” she congenially asks me.

I can tell she’s trying not to look at my bruise, and I appreciate that, but honestly, in this moment, I feel tired of hiding it.

I lift my head, letting my hair fall back. “No, I just moved here,” I tell her.

“We don’t get many new people round here but plenty of tourists,” she tells me.

“I can see why. It’s a beautiful place.”

“Yeah, it is. So, what brought you here? Family? I probably know them. It’s hard not to know everybody in a town like this.”

I shake my head, cutting a piece of pie. I put it in my mouth and chew, delaying my response. “No family. Just wanted a change of scenery.”

“Oh. Sure.” She nods, her eyes flickering to my mouth—the cut there—and back to my cheek before meeting my eyes. “It’s a good place to move to. I came here ten years ago for a fresh start.” She pauses, contemplating something.

I watch her expression. She looks like she’s having some kind of internal argument. I see when she settles on it.

Then, she parts her lips and speaks, “Pardon me for saying this, but that’s one helluva bruise you have there. I’m sure you’ve had it checked out, but—”

“It’s fine.” My hand instantly covers my cheek. The fork that I was holding clattering to the counter.

The good feeling in my chest starts to shrivel up.

“Look, you can tell me to mind my own business, but I was you ten years ago. I rolled up in town, covered in bruises—”

“I’m not covered in bruises. I just got hit in the face by a door. That’s all. Nothing more. And you’re right; you really should mind your own business,” I snap.

It’s not like me to be this assertive, but I’m upset that this woman took my good feeling from me. Just like my good feeling was stolen away by my jerk neighbor earlier.

Some people really can be sunshine-stealers.

And I don’t want to be around those kind of people.

I stand, shoving my hand in my pocket, pulling out my money to pay for my food, so I can get the heck out of this place.