There was nothing to do, she decided, but to brazen this thing through. Looking neither to the left nor the right, though she could feel a few dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her every move, Brynne marched over to the table, grabbed the menu out of Clay’s hand and slapped it down hard on the tabletop.

“What are you doing here?”

Clay looked up at her calmly. A corner of his mouth quirked in amusement.

Brynne wanted to slap him. She really did.

“Is that how you greet all your customers?”

“No, Clay,” Brynne said, her voice taut, “that’s how I greet you. Unless Davey and Maddie are with you—and obviously they are not—you have no business being here.”

“I’m only passing through, Brynne. On my way to a law enforcement seminar in Seattle.”

“Sure you are,” Brynne retorted, “and Painted Pony Creek, Montana, is part of a direct route between Seattle and Boston.”

Miranda appeared at Brynne’s side and asked quietly, “Is everything all right here?”

“Yes,” Clay said.

“No,” Brynne said.

“I just want to talk to you for a little while, Brynne,” Clay pressed. “That’s all. Make some plans for when the kids come to visit—”

“All of that could have been done by email, or over the phone,” Brynne interrupted.

Clay smiled. Once, that smile had been combustible, at least to Brynne.

Now it was simply obnoxious.

“Some things should be done—and said—in person.”

“And some things should just be forgotten,” Brynne insisted.

“Oh, look,” said Miranda, a little too loudly, craning her neck to peer past tables and booths full of paying customers to Bailey’s front window. “Here’s Eli.”

The little bell over the door tinkled, and a rush of cold air swept over Brynne, reviving her, cooling the heat pulsing in her face.

In that moment, Brynne thought she could quite literally have heard a pin drop.

Eli caught her eye as he passed her on his way to his usual stool at the counter, but he didn’t speak.

“Excuse me,” Brynne told Clay, and then could have kicked herself for being polite to him.

She turned away, slipped behind the counter, grabbed the coffeepot and poured a cup for Eli.

“Is that him?” he asked quietly. Seriously.

Brynne nodded, lips pressed together so tightly that they hurt a little.

“What’s he doing here?”

Brynne’s eyes filled with tears of frustration and anger. “I’m not sure.”

Ignoring his coffee, Eli turned on the stool and looked directly at Clay.

Miranda was still at the table, taking down Clay’s order.

When Eli turned back to Brynne, he asked, “Are you all right?”

Brynne shook her head. “I need to get out of here,” she whispered, feeling like a foolish child, afraid of the dark.

“Okay,” Eli said reasonably. “Get your coat. I’ll buy you lunch over at Sully’s. About time you sized up the competition.”