When I checked out at the counter, I gave the female cashier a big smile. “Is Ashlynn working today?”

She blinked in surprise. “Ashlynn? Ain’t nobody who works here named Ashlynn.”

I shook my head and laughed. “My grandmother must have gotten confused. She told me that her friend’s daughter works at the drugstore. She thought it was Walgreens, but I guess there must be a few pharmacies in town.”

“I’ve got a granny like that,” the woman said as she scanned the items. “She gets everything turned around. She probably works at Jones’ Pharmacy about a half mile down on Pine Street. Either that or the urgent care pharmacy.”

“Thanks.”

She picked up the box of hair dye and glanced at me. “You really shouldn’t go darker. Have you considered going blonde? It would be a more natural fit for your coloring.”

Didn’t I know it.

I just smiled and said I’d take it under consideration and then handed my debit card over, resisting the urge to groan, over both her comment and the total. A few minutes later, I was on my way toward Jones’ Pharmacy.

Jones’ Pharmacy was old and had obviously been there for multiple decades. The parking lot was empty, and once I got inside, I found it small and surprisingly empty. The vinyl tile floors were yellowed and the edges of some of the sparsely stocked shelving looked rusted. I wondered how the place stayed in business, especially with Walgreens so close.

I really should have planned this out ahead of time, because I didn’t want to just go in and ask for Ashlynn, which meant I had to make a purchase. I headed to the gift card endcap, figuring Ruth’s birthday was coming up and she might appreciate a gift card to Target. Or maybe I’d give it to Jerry as a housewarming gift. My stomach dropped at the reminder that he was moving out to the Drummond property, playing into whatever plan Bart might have for him.

One problem at a time.

I took the gift card to the unmanned register at the front, but an older man waved me to the pharmacy counter in the back. “I’ll check you out down here.”

I walked up to the counter. He took the card and punched the numbers into the register instead of scanning it. I wondered how he’d activate it with his ancient machine.

“How much you want to put on it?” he asked, looking over the wire reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Twenty?”

“Gotta be twenty-five or more,” he said in a grumpy tone. I wasn’t sure if he was irritated at me for getting a gift card or the company for setting the limits. Probably both.

“Then twenty-five.” I glanced around before turning back to him. “Say, is Ashlynn workin’ today?”

His forehead furrowed. “She was supposed to,” he snapped, “but the dang fool hasn’t show up yet.”

I felt equal parts relief and concern. “Did you try to call her and see why she was late?”

He released a low growl as he punched in the numbers again and received an error beep. “It ain’t my job to track her down! Your generation doesn’t know the meaning of work. Why can’t y’all just show up to work like you’re supposed to?”

I almost told him that I was used to working six days a week, but I wasn’t here to clear my character or stand up for “my generation.” “Do you think her not showing up has something to do with her mother?”

His head jutted back. “Her mother? What about her mother?”

Did gossip not travel at the speed of light in Ewing like it did in Drum? Or maybe he felt he was above it all. In any case, I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. “Never mind.”

He tried punching numbers into the machine again, which issued another loud beep. The man started cursing a blue streak. His cheeks were flushed an unhealthy red, and he looked like he might rocket out of his chair any moment and start beating the machine against the wall. Or me.

“I changed my mind about the gift card,” I said, taking several steps backward. “I’ll let you get back to…” I wasn’t sure what he was getting back to. In fact, as empty as the place was, I wasn’t sure how he could afford to employ Ashlynn.

“If you see her, tell her she’s fired!” he shouted, spittle flying out of his mouth.

I really didn’t want that responsibility, but I wasn’t about to argue with him, so I continued backing up until I bumped into the front door and left.

I sat in my car, taking several deep breaths as I grasped the steering wheel. Why was he so angry? If that was his usual state, it was no wonder he didn’t have any customers. How could Ashlynn stand to work there? And, more importantly, what had happened to her?

I cast a glance at the clock on the dashboard—1:45. I had to be at work at five, and since I couldn’t go to the courthouse, I didn’t have anything else to do in Ewing. Turning on the car, I decided to head back to Drum to pay a visit to Selena, but first I pulled out my phone and called Hank.

He answered after a couple of rings. “I’m watching my programs, so make it quick.” Loud voices were arguing in the background.

I grinned. He didn’t have caller ID, so he had no idea who was on the line. “Hank, it’s me. Carly.”

“Everything okay?” he asked, sounding concerned. I rarely called him, and he probably assumed I’d walked my way into another mess. He wouldn’t be wrong. The volume of the voices lowered.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m working late so I wanted to warn you that Wyatt’s coming over for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Why?” he asked in a dry tone.

“He just felt like it,” I said. “And he’s cooking.”

“Is he bringin’ real bacon with him?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. While I’d told him not to bring bacon, I wouldn’t put it past him to do it anyway. Then again, maybe not since he was trying to worm his way back into my life. “I didn’t ask for the menu.”

“Hrmph,” he grunted.

“Third, he’s going to be working on your car to make it drivable for you. That way you won’t need to wait on me if you feel like heading into town.” He didn’t say anything. “That’s a good thing, Hank. But if you don’t want Wyatt do to it, we can find someone else.” I cringed, then added, “Marco offered to help.”

“That boy don’t know shit about fixin’ cars.”

“He wouldn’t do it himself,” I said with a small laugh. “He offered to help me find someone else who could.”

“Let Wyatt do it,” he grumped. “He won’t charge us much.”

“Okay, then. Which means Wyatt’s still comin’ over to make us breakfast and look at your car.”

“You don’t need to be here for breakfast. I can let you know when he leaves.”

Did I tell him that Wyatt’s offer came with strings? I’d save that for now. He was willing to let Wyatt help, and I didn’t want to screw that up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, but you can always call me at the tavern after five if anything comes up.”

“You be safe, girlie,” he said gruffly. “And tomorrow morning, stay in bed with the man who deserves you instead of running to the man who turned his back on you.” Then he hung up.