“Have you seen the sad produce at Granger’s?”
“Sad onions or no onions! I’m not a miracle worker.” Val turned and saw Sully standing at the counter. “Hi.”
He frowned. “Sad onions?”
She nodded to the kitchen. “Ask my prima donna cook back there. You need coffee?”
“And a pastrami sandwich.”
Monica said, “Hey Sully! How are you? Did you come in just to talk to Val? Because I would not find that at all surprising.”
Val froze, but bless him, Sully took it in stride. “I came in for coffee and pastrami.” He glanced at Val. “I don’t think either of those have onions.”
Monica smiled. “If you want to hang around and visit with Val, I’m sure we could get some.” She punched in the order, and Sully held out a card to pay.
“Shut up, Monica,” Val said, sliding a coffee cup toward Sully. “Here you go.”
He grabbed the empty cup and looked at it for a second. Then he looked back at Val. Then at Monica. “Right.”
He turned abruptly and walked to the coffee station, leaving Val glaring at Monica.
You’re the worst, she mouthed silently.
“I thought I was your best friend.”
“You need to cut it out,” she whispered. “Nothing is going to happen there.”
Something already did happen, not that Monica or Robin needed to know the details.
Ramon made the sandwich, Sully grabbed it and walked out without another glance in Val’s direction, and the morning sped by with hardly a second to catch her breath before eleven o’clock.
They took advantage of a lull and stepped out to the screened porch off the back of the restaurant to catch some fresh air. Val sat at the picnic table and flipped on the small space heater they kept for employee breaks.
The forest around them was blanketed in snow, and several feet of it were piled along the borders of the parking lot. They’d had a pretty average year for snow, but the temperatures had stayed frigid at night, which meant not much had melted since the last storm.
“Seriously?” Monica kicked her feet up. “You’re not going to do anything about the detective with the pretty eyes?”
“Sully’s a sheriff, not a detective. And no.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Thanks. I love you too.” Val desperately wanted a cigarette in moments like this, but she’d quit when she was pregnant with Jackson.
Still miss them though.
“Why are you so determined to stay single?” Monica asked. “I know you don’t like being alone.”
“I know you don’t either, but it’s just not the right time. You know that better than anyone.”
“My husband died less than three years ago, and you’ve been divorced for almost ten years. Not exactly the same thing.”
“How long did people wait until they tried to set you up?”
“Three months.”
“No!”
Monica made a face. “I did not react well.”
“Understandable.” Val leaned her chin on her hand. “Do you remember what it was like when I was married to Josh?”
“Not that I’m sticking up for him, but you only remember the bad stuff. You and Josh had good times too. You liked being married.”
“Yeah, before the boys came. After that, he was like another kid. He was so much damn work and I didn’t have the energy.”
“But the boys are older now. You have your own business. You have a house—”
“And I still have a shit-ton to do!”
“And you always will. You can’t let it prevent you from having a personal life.”
“Honestly? All I remember about relationships is that they’re work. A lot of work.”
“Yeah, they are work.” Monica leaned back against the wall and looked out the window. Val could see how much widowhood had taken out of her. She’d lost weight. She didn’t look happy. The new project with Russell House was helping, but she still seemed lost without her other half.
Men. You literally can’t live with them or without them. What the hell?
“Relationships are work,” Monica continued, “but the right ones are help too. Someone who has your back. Someone to share the emotional load with. If you can find a real partner—”
“That would be the sticking point,” Val said. “I’m not sure any men capable of real partnership are still single. Every one has been married off. Not that I blame their wives or anything, but the pickings are slim, my friend. Very, very slim.”
“And Sully?”
She hadn’t given him a chance. Not to be good or bad. “Monica, I just don’t have the time.” She looked at her watch. “And neither do we. Back to work.”
“Fine, but before we go…” She looked around at the empty yard. “I had a dream last night.”
“Dream dream or—”
“Vision dream.” Monica’s voice went soft. “Blood on the snow. A lot of it. I’ve had the same dream a couple of times now, and I don’t know what it means.”
Val and Robin had both learned they couldn’t discount Monica’s visions, but not everything was as ominous as it seemed. “Did you see anyone in the dream?”
“No, but I saw tracks. Not animal tracks. They were in the snow and they were parallel like… skis, I guess?”
“Blood and skiing.” Val frowned. “That could be anything from a nosebleed at the slopes to something serious.” Her phone buzzed again.
“I know. It’s not very clear at this point.”
Seriously? It was the fourth message from Rachel. The first had warned her that Josh wasn’t going to make his visitation this weekend. Big surprise there. The second, third, and fourth just said “Call me” with no other explanation.
“Still, it felt serious.”
Val looked up. “What did?”
“The vision.” Monica frowned. “Are you all right?”
Val shrugged. “Just some bullshit from Josh and his little girlfriend.” She put her phone away. “Okay. I’ll keep the boys from hitting the slopes for a while. I don’t know what else we can do. Did you warn Robin and Mark?”
“Not yet.”
“They’re the most regular skiers. I’d shoot her a text.”
“Yeah, good idea.” Monica got out her phone. “What about you? Did you go back on your pills yet?”
“Last night. I don’t like the cloudy feeling, but I had a vision from Americano Asshole the other day that convinced me I needed that buffer again. Skin contact is too difficult to avoid completely.”
Monica frowned. “Americano Asshole?”
“Haven’t you heard that one before?” Val nudged Monica back into the restaurant. “You’re working here now. We’ll let you in on all the nicknames.”
Chapter 4
Val stood on the back porch of the restaurant, tapping her foot and wishing desperately for a cigarette again. She held her phone to her ear and waited for it to ring. It went straight to Josh’s voice mail. Again.