Page 22 of River Wild

So much for my pie and the possibility of a job.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she placates, putting her hands on the counter. “I’m not trying to interfere. I just know what it’s like to be new in town with”—she gestures to her face—“while running from the person who gave them to you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “It was a door.”

“Okay”—she nods—“it was a door. I hear you. And I’m sorry that I upset you. The pie is on me. Please stay and finish it.”

I pause for a moment, looking at her expression, the warmth in it, and I realize that she was only genuinely trying to be caring. And I also realize that I’m staring at a woman who went through something similar to what I’ve been through.

I slowly sit back down and pick up the fork, cutting off another piece of pie.

“Holler if you need anything,” she tells me before walking away to tend to another customer who’s approached the counter to pay his bill.

I eat my food and drink my tea in silence, just listening to the music, the sound of the pans cooking in the kitchen, and the low hum of chatter.

I’m just finishing up my tea when she reappears in front of me. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks.

“No, thanks.”

“I am sorry about before,” she says to me. “My being pushy.”

“It’s fine. I probably overreacted a little bit,” I admit.

“No, you didn’t. You were well within your right to say what you did.”

Her words make me feel a little better.

“Can I just say …” she continues. “And I’m only saying this with you being new to town and not knowing anyone, but decaf tea … there’s usually only one reason a woman round here drinks anything decaf, and that’s because she’s pregnant. Now, I’m not asking; I’m just saying, if you are, you’re going to need a doctor, and the best around here is Dr. Mathers.”

“Dr. Mathers,” I repeat. “I’ll give him a call. Thank you.”

Her eyes go to my still-flat stomach. “So … how far along are you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

I realize that she’s the only other person, aside from Mrs. Ford, I have told about the baby.

I get the feeling she’s actually not being nosy. She’s caring. Which is why I don’t mind answering. “I’m not sure exactly. But I’m not far along.”

She offers a kind smile. “Well, Dr. Mathers will help you with that. And congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you.” I slide off the stool, standing.

“Well, if you need anything …” She pauses, waiting for me to tell her my name.

“Carrie,” I fill in the blank for her.

“Carrie. I’m Sadie, which you’ve probably figured.” She gestures to her name badge. “And you’ve also probably already figured that this is my place.”

“It wouldn’t take a genius.”

I smile, and she laughs.

“Well, I just wanted to say, if you ever need anything—pie, decaf tea—you know where to find me.”

“Actually, there is something I need …” I glance at the sign in the window before looking back to her. “I don’t know how you feel about hiring pregnant women, but I really need a job.”

“Have you waitressed before?” she asks.

I bite my lower lip. “No.”