Restless Spirit Read Online Free PDF Page A

his old joke. ‘Ba-dum-dum-duh! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll be here all week.’
    ‘Ha ha. But really. What are you going to do now? Become a lady of leisure? Write?’
    There it was again. Write. My Nan must have made me out to be some super scribe. I shook my head and sighed. ‘Nope. Waitressing, probably until I figure something else out. Shepherd said the restaurant might be hiring part-time.’
    Adrian’s face grew dark, his mouth clamped down to a tight seam and his jaw flexed. Uh-oh. What had I said?
    ‘What?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Oh, yeah, nothing. You go from happy man to grizzly bear face in less than a second. Sure, nothing at all.’
    He shrugged, finishing off his soda and tossing it in the recycling bin after the light bulb box. ‘You’ve met him?’
    ‘Yeah, this morning. He popped over to say hi.’
    ‘You didn’t mention that earlier.’ He sounded petulant. Now I remembered why Adrian and I hadn’t hung in there longer. He could be jealous and petty and juvenile. Sweet and sexy and stunning in bed, but sometimes that didn’t override the childishness of his ways in relationships. Maybe he’d grown some.
    ‘I didn’t think about it. What’s the big deal?’
    He looked out into the overcast day at the now-choppy lake and the leaden clouds. ‘No big deal.’
    ‘So what’s your beef with him, Adrian?’ Now I was curious. I wanted to know.
    ‘I just don’t like him, is all. You’d do well to stay away from him.’ He stood suddenly and almost tipped the yellow ladder-back chair over.
    ‘Ooh, small town drama and rivalry.’
    Now he looked pissed and I felt bad. ‘I’ve just heard shit about him, Tuesday. He’s a sexual deviant. Stay away from him. I have to go. I promised my dad I’d help him repair a fence.’
    And he was gone. Stomping out the front and trying to act like he was just fine with our conversation when clearly he wasn’t.
    ‘Wow,’ I said to Nan. Or my imagined presence of Nan. ‘He really doesn’t like Shepherd. And I’m just nosy enough to need to know why.’
    I showered, threw on clean clothes and laced up my boots. I’d go and apply for a part-time job and ponder this whole sexual deviant thing.
    ‘So, Virginia’s Tuesday, you want a job at Irv’s Eats?’ Irving Lieberman asked.
    ‘If you have one, I’d love to be considered.’ There was something about Irving Lieberman that made me smile. He was small, pale and had eyes so dark they were the colour of espresso.
    He puffed up his chest. ‘I need a hostess. To greet and seat our patrons.’
    I looked around the restaurant which basically was just a diner. Inside the front door four booths sat to your left, five to your right and dead ahead was a countertop with padded stools that seated a dozen. Painted a pale butter yellow with coral and red accents, Irv’s Eats was sunny inside despite the day being cold and overcast outside. White Christmas lights were draped along the ceiling, down the thin venetian blinds and across bunches of hanging plants. The overall effect was Florida eatery meets dorm room meets your favourite aunt’s cosy kitchen come holiday time.
    I loved it.
    ‘I thought you were destined to be a writer, Tuesday.’
    ‘Dear Lord,’ I laughed. ‘Did my Nan tell everyone that?’
    He nodded, indicating a stool which I grabbed. Mr Lieberman walked around behind and poured me a cup of coffee. Then he took the dome off a cake tray. ‘Pastry?’
    I had a vivid flash of being eight and sitting at this counter eating a blueberry Danish that basically tasted like heaven made from flour, eggs, sugar and preserves. ‘Oh, gosh. Thanks.’ I snagged the lone blueberry.
    ‘And yes, to answer your question, Virginia told everyone that. She was very proud of you. She’d bend my ear until the orders piled up.’
    ‘Oh I’m sorry.’ I bit into the pastry and rolled my eyes with pleasure.
    ‘No worries, dear.’ He patted my hand. ‘Virginia was a looker. She could’ve bent my