Hemlock Veils Read Online Free PDF Page B

behind him.
    Are you going to offer me coffee, Mrs. Washington, he had said, or do I need to make it myself?
    Sorry, Mr. Clayton, she said, rushing about behind the counter. Just surprised to see you here is all. No Portland today? No one ever made small talk with Mr. Clayton, but it felt wrong not to, since it was just the two of them.
    He didn’t sit at his usual table that day, either, but sat on a stool at the counter, sighing. Not today, he said. And they talked for at least five minutes. He even asked about her beloved Nathaniel, who’d passed away the year before and left her a widow. She realized on that hot afternoon that cold front or not, Mr. Clayton had some pleasantness inside him somewhere. He even thanked her for the coffee before leaving. The coffee she knew he had to hate just as much as she did.
    Still, even then he’d been Mr. Clayton. Never Henry. Eustace had called him Henry a few times, getting him mixed up with his father, whom Henry Jr. looked so much like, and it had never gone over well. Mr. Clayton , he would always correct, sometimes through his teeth. Most folks steered clear of him, even when their curious eyes—the women’s especially—watched from a distance.
    It was probably a good thing he didn’t come in this late, she thought while trying to tune out Brian’s crude joke. Sheriff Taggart, Deputy Holman, and Old Ray—who sat at Brian’s table—chuckled. More out of courtesy, Regina hoped. If Eustace were here, his laugh would probably barrel through this place.
    As much as it pained her to admit, Regina had to hand it to Mr. Clayton. Even though she disliked keeping his diner open so late, having a place for folks to converse at this hour seemed to keep the town in a somewhat peaceful state. No one was getting into trouble or getting wasted at Old Ray’s Tavern, which closed at eleven. Or even wandering into the forbidden forest on account of some stupid dare. It was a nightly ritual for these men to sit in front of Regina and talk about the day’s events, as little as they were.
    Brian’s laughter faded when his eyes zeroed in on something behind Regina, and by the glazed-over lust in those eyes, Regina guessed that something was her best waitress. But Nicole Eastwood wasn’t just Regina’s best waitress, she was the prettiest girl in town, with the help of a California-style nose job and breast implants. Which meant destructive flirting from Brian Dane. When he came around, Nicole couldn’t keep her head on straight. A customer was always getting put on the backburner or a dish clattered to the floor. Regina wasn’t naïve. She’d heard the gossip about Nicole and Brian sleeping around. It’d been that way for years: sinful escapes to Brian’s garage anytime either was bored.
    Regina thought herself a devout Christian woman, and prayed for Nicole’s soul. But some women can’t be changed. Some women, like the scantily-clad Nicole Eastwood, thrive on one thing only, and that thing is the attention of a man. A man who had brought his share of outside women to town, yet would still sit, night after night, undressing Nicole with his eyes. Nicole loved every second of it, too. Sometimes—with a bit of guilt, given what the girl had been through—Regina was convinced Nicole had nothing but a head full of rocks.
    Regina moved aside just a hair, obstructing his view of Nicole bending over the counter to clean the menus. Since she didn’t usually do such a task at this hour, it had to be for his eyes. Nicole’s skirt had been hiked especially high tonight, too, as well as her top, which meant t.hey all got a real good view of her tattoo—the one just above her rear Regina had heard the kids around town calling a “tramp stamp.” She wasn’t sure, but she also thought Nicole must have gotten a dye job, since her hair seemed blonder than usual.
    While Taggart, Holman, and Old Ray went on about Eustace and his crazy guns, Regina glared at Brian. She couldn’t help moving