Page 102 of The Coppersmith Farmhouse (Jamison Valley 1)
“Andrea, get this through your head. We are done. Stay away from me. I am with Georgia. The woman standing right there.”
I gave her a bitchy smirk and a little finger wave.
Her face screwed up in a scowl.
I rolled my eyes and turned away from Skankasaurus to look at Jess. “You ready, honey?”
He closed his eyes and his chest expanded with a long breath. Either he was still mad or he was trying to hold back laughter because he found the combination of my eye roll, finger wave and smirk amusing.
It was probably a little bit of both.
“Yeah. Let’s go,” he said.
And we all walked to the cafeteria, leaving a red-faced and fuming Andrea Merkuso behind.
“Do you want anything else to eat, sweetie?” I asked Rowen.
“No, I’m done.”
We were sitting at one of the long tables in the cafeteria and had just finished a quick snack from the plethora of reception food trays. Rowen and I were waiting for Jess and Noelle, who were paying their respects to Wes’s parents.
For two hours we’d been here, mostly standing around while Jess was approached time after time by various Prescott residents. Each one asking how he was coming alo
ng with his investigation. I figured there were only a handful of people in the building who hadn’t talked to him yet, meaning that with any luck, we’d be free to leave soon.
Rowen had been her usual self, a trooper. When she got tired of standing, either Jess or I would pick her up for a bit. But after hours, she was getting bored and fidgety. There was only so much staying still a four-year-old could take.
“You’re doing great, baby girl. Thanks for being my good girl. I know this isn’t much fun,” I said.
“Can we go?” she begged.
“Not quite yet, Roe. But soon.”
“Okay,” she pouted.
Deciding we needed to change the subject, I started talking to her about Christmas. Every third day she would change her mind about what she wanted Santa to bring her. Thankfully, she listed off three things that were already wrapped and hidden in my closet.
“Your kid is wrecking my coat,” a female voice behind me snapped.
Standing right behind my chair was the blond woman from the auditorium, both of her hands planted firmly on her hips.
Now that she was closer and no longer in profile, I realized she was not just stunning. She was gorgeous. She had high cheekbones, a perfectly straight nose and full lips. I couldn’t see her eyes because she was still wearing sunglasses, likely to cover them if she’d been crying.
“I’m sorry, your coat?” I asked.
“It’s under the kid’s seat,” she said, jerking her chin in Rowen’s direction as her lip curled.
I frowned. There were many other ways she could have announced there was a problem with her coat. Many better and nicer ways.
Bending to peer under Rowen’s chair, I saw there was a black wool coat under her feet but I wouldn’t say that Rowen was wrecking it. She wasn’t even touching it.
And it wasn’t like the floors were wet or covered in dirt. The whole place was spotless. The janitorial staff had likely cleaned less than three hours ago, when the last group of children had left after their lunch hour.
Pulling the coat from underneath the table, I gave it a quick inspection. There was nothing wrong with it and it wasn’t dirty. But before I could hand it to the woman, she snatched it away.
“She’s destroyed it.”
“Uh . . . no, she hasn’t. And she didn’t knock it on the floor. It wasn’t on either of our chairs when we sat down and I didn’t notice it under the table. Otherwise, I would have picked it up.”
