a waitress called him by name, asked how his sister’s wedding went, and Erin’s heart settled down. She had to relax. She was jumping at shadows. The man was simply one of the locals, probably curious at seeing a new face. Still, she needed to be careful. She hadn’t been careful enough in Maine.
The phone rang. Mac pushed away from the table where he’d been tallying the week’s receipts, then went to answer it before it woke Amos. Last time he’d checked, his granddad was snoring in his recliner, enjoying a post-supper nap, sections of the Sunday paper strewn in a half moat around his chair. Mac had gathered the papers and set them aside, irked that Amos hadn’t seen them as a danger to his slipping and falling.
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