Bullies Spit On A Waitress — Unaware She Was A Commander For 10 Years!
Chapter 11
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She made coffee in the small kitchen of her rented room above the hardware store on Birch Street: two rooms, a narrow bed, a table by the window, a duffel bag she'd never fully unpacked because she'd learned a long time ago not to get too comfortable with any one address. She stood at the window with her mug and looked down at the street. Keswick Falls on a Thursday morning looked the same as it always did: a few cars, the bakery opening up early, the hardware store below her still dark, the flag outside the post office moving just slightly in a cold that wasn't quite wind yet. Normal from the outside.She took a slow sip of coffee. She thought about Tyler Mace's face. Not with anger; with precision. She turned the memory over the way a mechanic turns over an engine component, looking for what it told her: he hadn't been drunk enough to be reckless; he'd been drunk enough to be honest. What she'd seen in his face was not the cruelty of a person who didn't know better; it was the cruelty of a person who had never once been told that better was required of him. That was a different thing entirely: that was a father who had raised a son to believe that power was permission.She set down her mug. She pulled on her jacket. She had work to do—not diner work, the other kind.Donna had called at 7:00 in the morning. Claire had let it go to voicemail, then called back at 7:15. Donna's voice on the message had been steady, but underneath it was the particular tight sound of a person trying very hard not to sound frightened.When they spoke, Donna got straight to it: "I got a call this morning," she said. "From Dale Mace's office. Not from Dale; from someone in his office. They said if I continued to employ you, they would be conducting a detailed review of my health permits and fire code compliance." A pause. "They've never once reviewed my fire code compliance, Donna said, in thirty-one years.""I know," Claire said. "They're trying to make me let you go.""I know, Claire." Donna's voice dropped. "I'm not going to do that. I want you to understand that. I'm not going to do it. But I need to know what's happening. I need to know who Tyler Mace thinks you are, and why his father is making phone calls at 7:00 in the morning."Claire looked out her window at the gray street below. "I'll explain everything," she said. "I promise you that. Just not yet. And Donna, don't fight this right now. Tell them whatever they need to hear. Keep the diner open."Silence on the other end."You're asking me to back down," Donna said."I'm asking you to give me forty-eight hours."Another silence, longer this time."I've trusted you before," Donna said finally. "On not much more than instinct.""I know you have.""All right," Donna said. "Forty-eight hours."She hung up. Claire put her phone in her jacket pocket. She pulled on her boots. She went out.