Page 7 of Forever Dead

Jessie entered and nudged the door shut with her heel. “Hank says if these don’t get you on your feet, nothing will.”

“Thanks. That’s kind of him.”

“After he visited here last week he said you’re getting too skinny.”

Selena gave her a flat stare. “Hank says that to everyone who doesn’t order two breakfasts.”

“Probably why people like him so much.”

Jessie crossed to the small table beneath the window and set down the bag. Selena made her way back to the recliner, lowered herself carefully and stretched the braced leg out again.

A second bag emerged from Jessie’s tote, followed by paper plates, plastic forks and two small tubs of syrup. “You came prepared,” Selena said.

“I know what this room has in the way of kitchen equipment.”

“It has a kettle.”

“This’ll save on washing up.”

Selena smiled despite herself.

Jessie divided the waffles between the plates, added syrup to her own, and passed Selena the other. The first bite almost justified being awake.

“Okay,” Selena said after swallowing. “Still the best in the county.”

“That’s what Hank wants printed on the menu.”

“He can quote me.”

They ate for a minute with the easy silence of people who had known each other long enough not to fill every gap. Jessie’s attention eventually shifted toward the dresser.

A row of cards had accumulated there over the last month, propped against the mirror and television. Some came from agents Selena barely knew. Others had been sent by people in town, former teachers, old classmates, Connor’s deputies, even the woman who ran the pharmacy. A basket of fruit from the field office had lasted two days before Eric started eating the oranges.

Jessie pointed with her fork. “You starting a gift shop?”

“Yeah. People have been kind.”

“Is there one from Diane?”

Selena chewed more slowly. “Kind of.”

Jessie waited.

Selena rubbed her leg. “My dad sent one. She signed it.”

“That’s progress.”

“It’s sympathy. It won’t change things. I still haven’t heard from her.”

“You two will come together.”

Selena set her fork against the plate. “That’s what everyone thinks. Connor. Dad. Even Eric here at the motel.”

“Well, then, it’ll work out.”

“You know Diane. She’s stubborn.”

“So are you.”