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eyes for the town’s pastor, but he wouldn’t look twice at her.
    “Here you go,” Beth said, sliding a plate in front of me. “You can keep the Tylenol.”
    “Thanks.”
    I drenched the meat with ketchup and bit into the rarest burger I’d ever eaten, seared brown on each side, with an angry red center. The first few bites were coppery and slick, but I kept the food down despite the dripping grease, and the pickles, which I hadn’t ordered.
    Swallowing one mushy onion ring after another without tasting them, I mulled over my father’s last request. He shouldn’t have had anything, after what he took from me. He had phoned me once, after he was released from prison, asking to see me. At my request, Aunt Ruth told him I wasn’t interested. That was partly true. I didn’t want to meet and make small talk. I wanted to scream for a while, throw something at him and walk away forever.
    I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting his own way now.
    I needed that money, though. I had emptied my savings for the divorce. If David fought me, I’d owe my lawyer thousands more. And there were those nasty collection agents that kept calling, before the cellular phone company turned off my service for nonpayment.
    Perhaps Rich the Mushroom was lonely and, with some strategically bared skin, I could persuade him to be a bit lenient with the terms of the will. I’d be happy with half, or even a third. I looked at my watch. Rich would have left the office. I’d go back tomorrow morning.
    At the register I ordered a hot chocolate to go, and asked the cashier, “Where can a girl have some fun around here?”
    The woman frowned. “Not sure what you’re looking for.”
    “A mall? A movie theater? Anything?”
    She gave me the change and the lidded Styrofoam cup, her knuckles cracked with eczema. “The closest mall is a couple hours down the mountain. But Westville is a little less than an hour from here, and they have a Super –Wal-Mart.”
    “How about a bar?”
    “You’ll have to go to Gloverstown for that,” she nipped.
    “The good folks of Jonah don’t drink their money away.”
    Yeah, right. “And Gloverstown is where?” I asked.
    “Half hour south on 22.”
    I spun to leave and bumped into someone behind me.
    The hot chocolate squashed between us, spilling onto my bare hand. “Ow,” I said, dropping the cup. The rest of the liquid splashed on my jeans and shoes.
    “Oh, no, I’m so sorry,” the someone said, a tall man partly hidden in a wooly hat. The part I could see—chewed lips, dark eyebrows—did not impress me. In fact, I grew more annoyed because the guy’s eyelashes were so long. What a waste.
    “Your hand is red,” he continued.
    “Yeah, well, you just dumped twelve ounces of scalding liquid on it.”
    “Beth, get some ice,” he said, and then reached for my hand. “Let me see.”
    “Thanks, you’ve done enough,” I said, shoving past him and a few nosy onlookers.
    “You need to get something cold on that burn.”
    “I’ll stick it in the snow. There’s plenty in this place.”
    I threw open the door, careful not to slip down the frozen diner steps. Getting into my car, I checked my hand. No blisters.
    I drove back to the inn. Maggie had left the lights on for me and taped a note to my bedroom door. She was at Bible study, and if I was hungry I could help myself to anything in the guest kitchen, at the bottom of the stairs and down the hall on the right.
    I dumped the contents of my duffel bag onto the now-made bed and picked through the clothes with the task of finding an outfit that both kept me warm and looked hot. Tossing my cocoa-stained windbreaker on the floor, I settled on gray trousers and a sheer blouse.
    I left the clothes strewn over the bed. I had no plans of coming back tonight.

chapter FOUR
    The pub was mostly empty, except for a few of the six o’clock people—those soggy, desperate types who have no place to go or no desire to go to the places they belong. I