A Turn in the Road. Debbie Macomber

She reached for a second cup and poured again, leaving it three-quarters full.

      “That’s only half a cup!” he nearly shouted. “I suppose you intend to charge me for a full one?”

      Bethanne started to add more coffee when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Rooster, the older biker, stood directly behind her.

      “Listen, buddy,” he said, and the threat in his voice made her shiver. She couldn’t see his face but she saw the reaction of the man with the coffee and he seemed to cower in the booth.

      “I’m real hungry, and when I get hungry I get cranky. You’re delaying my meal. Trust me, you don’t want to see what happens when I get cranky.”

      The other man didn’t move. In fact, it looked as if he’d stopped breathing. The rattle of dishes died down and conversation fell to a soft hush. Soon the whole café had gone silent as Rooster bent over the man in the booth.

      “That coffee’s just fine now, isn’t it?” Rooster asked.

      The other man nearly jerked his head off in his eagerness to assure Rooster it was.

      “That’s what I thought.” Rooster gently patted Bethanne’s arm as he returned to his friends.

      “I think your order’s up now,” she said. He winked as he passed by, and Bethanne did her best to disguise a smile but knew she hadn’t succeeded.

      Still grinning she walked back to the kitchen and placed the orders for the four bikers on a large tray and delivered them to the table.

      “Thanks,” she whispered.

      “I didn’t do that for you,” Rooster said, fork in hand. “I like my mashed potatoes and gravy hot.”

      She was about to turn away when she became aware of Max, the man who sat beside Rooster, watching her. His eyes, dark and sober, met hers for a long moment. His look seemed to go straight through her and Bethanne felt herself flush. Her reaction embarrassed her but she didn’t know how to explain it. She wasn’t seeking any connection, romantic or otherwise. She was there to do a job—help Ruth’s friend—and that was it. Glancing away, Bethanne hurried back to the kitchen.

      Eight

      “Mom,” Annie said from the backseat of the car. “Have you ever been to Vegas?” This trip was turning out better than she’d hoped. But then, her expectations hadn’t been that high.

      When her grandmother announced the day before that they were going to spend the night in Spokane, Annie had wanted to scream with frustration. Spokane? It was an all-right town, but it sure wasn’t exciting.

      Well, visiting Pendleton, Oregon, wasn’t exactly like being in Paris. To be fair, they’d had a decent afternoon. She’d actually had fun waiting tables at the café, which wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked. The next time she ate in a restaurant, Annie knew she’d see the waitress in an entirely different light.

      She’d suggested Pendleton because of her father. A little while ago, he’d mentioned that he’d been born there, although Annie couldn’t remember why they’d even been talking about it. That part wasn’t important, anyway. The one thing that did matter was getting a feel for what her mother was thinking about her father. Driving to Pendleton was Annie’s way of casually bringing him into the conversation. She wanted her mother to be thinking about him, to miss him and to consider reuniting the family.

      Unfortunately, Annie hadn’t been able to figure out how her mother really felt. Of course, they’d been too busy at the café to discuss much of anything. Then, after Marie closed for the night, they’d toured the town. There’d been a lot of talk about her grandparents’ early years. Annie had listened politely and so had her mother. Bethanne seemed interested but Annie noticed she didn’t ask many questions.

      The first place Marie took them was the old neighborhood. Annie saw the house where her grandparents had lived when Grant was born. It was small and drab and nothing like she’d expected. True, it was nearly fifty years older now, but she could hardly imagine her father living in such a tiny house. The yard was overrun with grass and thick with weeds. The sidewalk leading to the front porch was cracked. Someone had left a red wagon outside, along with a tricycle, so another young family occupied the house these days.

      While Annie loved her grandmother’s stories, her attention was repeatedly drawn back to her cell phone.

      Vance had texted her twice. His first message said he’d landed safely in Rome. Well, good for him.

      She didn’t text back.

      Then, less than three hours later, he sent her another message.

      Miss you.

      As far as she was concerned, he didn’t miss her nearly enough—or he wouldn’t have left. She didn’t answer that one, either, although it boosted her ego considerably that he’d attempted to contact her.

      Nevertheless, Vance was out of her life. He’d taught her a valuable lesson and she was determined to learn from it. She was hurt by what he’d done and embarrassed by how oblivious she’d been. He’d lied to her, keeping his plans a secret. She should’ve known, though. In retrospect, there’d been clues, like his lack of interest in doing anything with her this summer and his frequent visits to Matt’s place—without her. What was that cliché about hindsight being twenty-twenty? She understood it now.

      This thing with Vance was kind of eerie because it reminded Annie of when her father moved out. She’d commented on that to her mother, who’d agreed. Bethanne had been shocked when it happened; even Andrew hadn’t seen it coming.

      Annie had been shocked at first, too, but when she thought about it, the signs had been there. Just like with Vance, but more obvious. Her father often got home late from the office and always seemed in a hurry to leave again. He’d bought her a new computer, too, for no reason. It wasn’t until much later that she’d realized his gifts were motivated by guilt, which proved he did have a conscience. Later, Annie had purposely ruined the computer, but that was beside the point.

      Her mother had been totally blind to what her father was doing. That had infuriated Annie, who thought Bethanne should have recognized that her marriage was in trouble. A woman who’d been married for twenty years, who supposedly knew her husband …

      Back then it’d been easy to blame Bethanne. Annie got over that fast enough, but some of her residual anger had lingered.

      Until the night Vance dumped her.

      Well, he didn’t officially dump her, but that was how it felt. Actually, she almost wished he’d ended the relationship completely. A clean break and all that.

      Well, it didn’t matter because she was finished with Vance. He could send her all the text messages he wanted but she had no intention of responding. What she needed now was to have fun. A lot of fun.

      She looked down at the map a second time. Vegas wasn’t that far, but she’d have to convince her mother and grandmother to head toward Nevada instead of South Dakota. Mount Rushmore wasn’t going anywhere. She’d let all her friends know where she was and eventually the news would reach Vance and then he’d regret what he’d done.

      The taste of this small revenge was sweet on her tongue. Vance might think Rome was fun, but Annie could guarantee Vegas was a whole lot more exciting than touring some museum.

      Annie’s question caught Bethanne by surprise. Vegas?

      “Have you ever been to Vegas?” Annie asked again.

      Where was this coming from? Bethanne was driving while Ruth napped beside her and her daughter sat in the backseat.

      “Well, yes, your father and I were in Vegas years ago.” Grant had taken Bethanne to a Realtors’ convention. They’d stayed at one of the gigantic hotels on the Strip, and she remembered those three days fondly. Because of the divorce it was sometimes difficult to recall the good times she’d had