But that wasn’t true. He’d known for a while, and in typical Max fashion, he’d buried his head in the sand and ignored it.

If he wasn’t going to deal with this, then I was. “You have to fire her, Max. You don’t need to wait until you find a replacement. Ruth and I can take on more lunch shifts, and Ginger might be able to pull a dinner shift every now and then if one of us needs a day off.”

He frowned as he wiped down a bottle of brandy. Based on the yellowed label, it had to be a couple of decades old.

“When you find a replacement, the person should be part-time,” I continued. “It’s been hard to get enough hours for three full-time waitresses.”

He should have fired her two months ago. Less than a week into her employment, it had become obvious it wasn’t going to work. But Max hated conflict, and truth be told, he didn’t like change. It was like pulling teeth to get him to do something that wasn’t part of his routine.

“How about I take charge of looking for someone?” I suggested.

“I don’t know,” he said, his mouth twisting to the side. “I doubt Ruth will go for that.”

“We both know something’s going on with Ruth, so I’m not sure we should dump this on her. How about I tell her you’ve given us the green light to hire someone else. Maybe she and I can do it together.”

“But I haven’t even fired Molly yet.”

“You need to do that tomorrow. First thing when she shows up. I’ll cover her lunch shift. I’m coming in early for Tutoring Club anyway.”

He gave me a sideways look. “So you’re the one runnin’ things now?”

I laughed. “Me and Ruth. Glad you noticed.”

He grunted and turned back to his task.

I headed over to intercept Ruth, hoping the news that Molly would soon be history would cheer her up.

“You’re never gonna believe what that bitch did now,” she snapped, her eyes blazing.

I put a hand on my hip and shook my head. “Max already told me. He also told me that you’re right. She’s got to go.” I knew better than to admit that I’d been the one to convince him. She’d be madder than a wet hornet that he’d listened to me and not her.

“Finally,” she said with plenty of sass, but I could see the relief in her eyes.

“I told him that you and I are going to take charge of hiring her replacement. A part-time replacement.”

She lifted her hands. “Praise the Lord.”

“How do you want to go about this?” I asked. “Put an ad in the Ewing paper?”

“Maybe,” she said. “I might know someone.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. She hadn’t mentioned this mysterious “someone” two months ago, before Molly was hired, and even though we’d gotten more time off lately, neither one of us had much of a social life.

“Want to give me a hint who?” I asked.

“You don’t know her. I’ll give her a call and ask.”

“Max hasn’t fired Molly yet, so we need to be discreet until he does.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded. Her mood hadn’t lifted as much as I’d thought it would, which suggested something other than Molly was weighing on her.

A family of regulars walked through the door and settled down at a table in my section. The boy was part of my tutoring club, which Max and Wyatt had encouraged me to start back in April after I’d helped a couple of kids with their math homework. My cover story was that I’d tutored students as a second job, but the truth was I used to be a third-grade schoolteacher in my old life in Dallas. Back when I was Caroline Blakely, oil heiress, engaged to a man who’d conspired with my father to kill me.

“Miss Carly,” the little boy called out as I approached their table. “I read part of that book about the guy in the underpants! Two whole chapters!”

“You did? That’s great, Dustin!” I rubbed his head.

He beamed with pride. Reading had been a struggle for him, but after our first sit-down talk at Tutoring Club, I had concluded he just hadn’t found anything he loved yet. I’d ordered some books of my own to hand out to the kids, and when they really loved a book, I let them keep it. The fact that he’d read two chapters since the day before, during summer break no less, was amazing.

His parents looked equally pleased. Thank goodness. His father had been resistant to his son spending part of his summer “learning.”

I took their drink orders and then waited on a group of construction workers who looked beat from working outside all day. It was cooler at our altitude, but it was still hot working in the sun.

More construction guys came in soon after. There wasn’t a ready supply of skilled labor on the mountain, so Bart had to bring them in from out of town to build his resort. Some of them stayed in the fleabag motel Max’s father owned across the street, but the rest were holed up in Ewing, much to Bart Drummond’s chagrin. Or so I’d heard. I hadn’t seen the man for nearly three months. The last time I’d seen him, we’d stood side by side, studying the hole where his oldest son’s girlfriend’s body had been discovered.

The excavation and foundation guys had left, replaced by construction workers, electricians, and plumbers. The only continual workers were the construction manager, a few of his underlings, and my friend Jerry, an older man who was a permanent resident at the motel across the street.

Jerry was well into his sixties and had been down on his luck for as long as I’d known him, but it hadn’t been difficult for him to land this job. The contractor had approached him in the tavern and offered him a full-time gofer gig on the spot. It stank of week-old fish, but I hadn’t had the heart to destroy Jerry’s happiness by saying Bart Drummond might be using him. Nearly three months had passed, and I hadn’t caught wind that they were using him for anything nefarious. Then again, Bart Drummond loved to play the long game.

A little after seven, Wyatt Drummond walked through the door. He was Max’s older brother and my former, sort-of boyfriend. If you could call seeing someone off and on for three weeks a boyfriend. I knew he preferred that term, and if he had his way, I’d be calling him that still. But Wyatt was the kind of man who collected secrets and wasn’t generous in doling them out. Even though he knew the truth of who I was—who I’d been—I knew next to nothing about him, and he wasn’t inclined to share. Worse, he’d pretended differently to keep me on the hook. In the beginning, he’d convinced me we could work together to take down our corrupt fathers. I was working alone now, but I fully intended to make both men pay their comeuppance. Because Bart Drummond knew who I was too, and he’d threatened my landlord Hank, which made this very personal.

Wyatt often worked the bar with Max on the weekends, but he rarely came in on a weeknight unless Max needed the night off for a rare date, or we were busier than usual. We weren’t crazy busy, so I had no idea why he was here.

He made a beeline to the bar, straight for his brother. They talked for a few seconds, then Max glanced around the room and the two men headed for Max’s office.

“What was that about?” Ruth asked, sounding more perplexed than upset that Max had left the bar unmanned.