“I get paid for it.”

“Yes.” Latterly stared at Gull, let the silence hang.

In response, Gull leaned back on the counter, drank some ginger ale. And made Marg’s lips twitch.

“Well, I wanted a word with you as you’re Dolly’s direct supervisor and—”

“Was,” Marg corrected.

“Yes. I’ve spoken with Mr. Little Bear, and I understand his reluctance to forgive Dolly’s transgression.”

“You call it a transgression. I call it snake-bite mean.”

Latterly spread his hands, then linked them together for a moment like a man at prayer. “I realize it’s a difficult situation, and there’s no excuse for Dolly’s behavior. But she was naturally upset after Miss Tripp threatened her and accused her of... having low morals.”

“Is that Dolly’s story?” Marg just shook her head, as much pity as disgust in the movement. “The girl lies half the time she opens her mouth. If you don’t know that, you’re not a very good judge of character. And I’d think that’d be an important skill to have in your profession.”

“As Dolly’s spiritual advisor—”

“Just stop there because I’m not overly interested in Dolly’s spirit. She’s had a mean on for Rowan as long as I’ve known her. She’s always been jealous, always wanted what somebody else had. She’s not coming back here, not getting another chance to kick at Rowan. Now, L.B. runs this base, but I run this kitchen. If he took it into his head to let Dolly back in here, he’d be looking for another head cook and he knows it.”

“That’s a very hard line.”

“I call it common sense. The girl can cook, but she’s wild, unreliable, and she’s a troublemaker. I can’t help her.”

“She is troubled, still trying to find her way. She’s also raising an infant on her own.”

“She’s not on her own,” Marg corrected. “I’ve known her mother since we were girls, and I know Irene and Leo are doing all they can for Dolly. Probably more than they should, considering. Now you’re going to have to excuse me.”

“Would you, at least, write a reference for her? I’m sure it would help her secure another position as a cook.”

“No, I won’t.”

Gull judged the shock that crossed the man’s face as sincere. Very likely the reverend wasn’t used to a flat-out no.

“As a Christian woman—”

“Who said I’m a Christian?” She jabbed a finger at him now, pointedly enough to take him back a step. “And how come that’s some sort of scale on right and wrong and good and bad? I won’t write her a reference because my word and my reputation mean something to me. You advise her spirit all you want, but don’t come into my kitchen and try advising me on mine. Dolly made her choices, now she’ll deal with the consequences of them.”

She took a step forward, and those hazel eyes breathed fire. “Do you think I haven’t heard what she’s been saying about Rowan around town? About me, L.B., even little Lynn there? About everybody? I hear everything, Reverend Jim, and I won’t give a damn thing to anyone who lies about me and mine. If it wasn’t for her mother, I’d give Dolly Brakeman a good swift kick myself.”

“Gossip is—”

“What plumps the grapes on the vine. If you want to do her a favor, tell Dolly to mind her mouth. Now I’ve got work to do, and I’ve given you and Dolly enough of my time.”

Deliberately she turned back to the stove.

“I apologize for intruding.” He spoke stiffly now, and without the big-toothed smile. “I’ll pray the anger leaves your heart.”

“I like my anger right where it is,” Marg shot back as Latterly backed out the door. “Lynn, those vegetables aren’t going to prep themselves.”

“No, ma’am.”

On a sigh, Marg turned around. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m not mad at you.”

“I know. I wish I had the courage to talk like that to people—to say exactly what I think and mean.”

“No, you don’t. You’re fine just the way you are. I just didn’t like the sanctimonious prick.” She aimed a look at Gull. “Nothing to say?”

“Just he’s a sanctimonious prick with too many teeth and an ugly tie. My only critique of your response is I think you should have told him you were a Buddhist woman, or maybe a Pagan.”

“I wish I’d thought of that.” She smiled. “You want some pie?”

He didn’t know where he’d put it after the fudge cake, but understanding the sentiment behind the offer, he couldn’t say no.

Lucas’s stomach jittered when he walked into the bar, but he assured himself it would settle once they started talking about whatever she wanted to talk about.

Then he saw her, sitting at a table reading a book, and his tongue got thick.

She’d put on a dress, something all green and summery that showed off her arms and legs while her pretty red hair waved to her shoulders.

Should he have worn a tie? he wondered. He hardly ever wore ties, but he had a few.

She looked up, saw him, smiled. So he had no choice but to cross over to the table.

“I guess I’m late. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.” She closed the book. “I got here a little early as the errands I had didn’t take as long as I thought.” She slipped the book into her purse. “I always carry a book in case I have some time on my hands.”

“I’ve read that one.” There, he thought, he was talking. He was sitting down. “I guess I figured doing what you do, you’d be reading educational books all the time.”

“I do plenty of that, but not with my purse book. I’m liking it a lot so far, but then I always enjoy Michael Connelly.”

“Yeah, it’s good stuff.”

The waitress stepped up. “Good evening. Can I get you a drink?”

When she shifted, Ella’s scent—something warm and spicy—drifted across the table and fogged Lucas’s brain.

“What am I in the mood for?” she wondered. “I think a Bombay and tonic, with a twist of lime.”

“And you, sir? Sir?” the waitress repeated when Lucas remained mute.