“My mother.” Dani didn’t move from behind the bar, but she wanted to. Letting go of the washcloth, her hands flattened on the counter. Her head lowered. Her eyes narrowed, mirroring her sister’s. “She’s mine, too. Maybe whatever was taken belonged to me as much as it did to you?”
“She did it.” Julia pointed at her, turning to Jake again. “You can arrest her. That was a confession.”
Jake tugged on his collar. His eyebrows bunched together. “That wasn’t a confession of anything, and this is a picture. You two are fighting over a photograph.”
“It’s something that’s priceless. It’s mine, and I want it back.”
It was more than priceless. It was a memory. It was a time capsule. It was the last item Dani had of her mother’s, and it was going to remain in her possession until she could pass it along to her children.
Jake let out an aggravated sigh. He raked a hand through his hair, looking at Dani. “Did you take it?”
A look of familiarity passed between them. He was remembering the times when they snuck into the creamery and stole candy, or when they sold candy at the football concession stands and pocketed a few items they shouldn’t have. He might’ve been a cop now, but he hadn’t always been above the law. Most those times were with her.
“Dani, come on. I’m not going to charge you. It’s your mom, too. I get it, but Julia has a right to know if you took the picture or not.”
She felt Boone observing the entire exchange. Her fingers curled into the counter, her nails pressed down. She couldn’t have taken away the way Jake just talked to her, how it spoke volumes of unsaid history between them. If it were her, she’d be hurting, but she didn’t dare sneak a peek at Boone.
She didn’t want to see what was there.
“Yeah.” Her tone cooled. She straightened up, her hands falling back to her side. “I took it.” Her eyes met her sister’s. “I’m not giving it back.”
“What?!”
Dani shrugged. “Sometimes we don’t get what we want.”
Julia’s reaction was immediate. She sucked in her breath. Her eyes widened, looking like they were going to pop out, and her cheeks reddened. She started forward again, saying, “You did not just say that!”
“He—hey!” Jake tried to haul her back. Julia kept coming. He jumped in front, holding both of his fiancé’s arms. He braced himself, holding her in place. “Stop! Julia. You can’t assault your own sister.”
“Watch me.” She lunged again, but he caught her in half of a hug/half of a hold. “Okay. We’re leaving.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Dani, stop pushing your sister’s buttons. We’re going, but I’d strongly advise you to give that picture back.”
She pressed her lips together. Fat chance of that happening.
Julia continued to protest, but Jake carried/dragged her out of the bar, leaving behind another awkward ex-couple. Dani pressed a hand to her forehead. She couldn’t imagine what Boone was thinking, and glancing to him, under lidded eyes, a wind swept through her. It took all her fight in one blast.
He was looking at her like she was a stranger. His top lip lifted in a small sneer. She was a stranger he didn’t like.
“Mitch, honey,” his friend started, patting his shoulder. “Maybe we—”
“Jenny.” He interrupted smoothly. His hand caught hers, holding it against him. “Why don’t you go see if your friend is okay? I’ll be right out.”
Surprise lined her eyes. She looked at Dani, then Boone, then the door. “Uh. Okay.” Her hand slid out from under his and she reluctantly walked for the door. She looked back twice before finally slipping outside.
“Boone.” Her eyes fell back to the counter. She didn’t know if she could bear looking at him again, see the disapproval or even the distaste in eyes that she once thought she loved. “I—”
“Don’t.” He gentled his tone. “Please, don’t.” His Adam’s apple moved up and down. “I came to see you, and it’s been two days.”
“What?” She looked up now.
He was hurting. A vein stuck out from his neck. “I thought you would’ve found me, so that we could’ve done this in private.”
She hadn’t.
His voice was so quiet. “You never did.”
Oh. She laid her hand on the counter again, and spread it out. Her palm rested flat. She needed it for balance. It was like an anchor for her. “I—”
“You should give the money back.”
“What?”
“The award my family’s company gave you. You should give it back.”
Her eyebrows pulled in together. She was given that because she tried to save a house full of orphans. Her mind was buzzing. “I didn’t know that came from your family’s business. You used a different last name. I didn’t know you were a Quandry until you showed up in my cabin the other night.”
But maybe he was right? She’d been hailed a hero, even though so many children died. She had no doubt the money came to her because of him.
“You have money. I thought you didn’t have anything.”
“What?” She had money? Well, she did now. “I have money because of the award. I didn’t at the time.” He was right, but that didn’t matter. She’d get a job. The money wasn’t important.