Amelia Anderson fled from Water’s Edge Bar and Tavern and tripped on the concrete steps, barely catching herself as hot tears stung her eyes. Gasping, she pressed her hands to her face, sharp breaths hissing past her lips.
How dare he!
She’d worked in places like this her entire life. As a bartender, she was used to inappropriate remarks and unsolicited invitations from the men who hung around the counter. But, ugh, that leering middle-aged man…
She was sick of men like him treating her however they wished.
There had to be more to life.
But what?
Hands trembling, she pulled a cigarette and lighter from her apron pocket. In past years, she wouldn’t have thought twice about a customer’s lustful words. It came with the territory. But tonight, when she’d refused to let that man’s degrading speech slide over her, her boss had called her inhospitable and said that, if she couldn’t do her job, she could take a hike.
Take a hike? Although new, she was the best and most experienced barmaid he had.
She wasn’t soft, but that creep should have been thrown out. Not her.
She lit the cigarette and took a long, slow drag. And then another.
She closed her eyes and slunk against the brick wall. Three more hours. How could she go back into that cesspit? Her stomach roiled, but she needed the job.
Her head snapped up at the lilt of piano music from the church across the road. Weird having a church opposite this sleazy bar. She opened her eyes. A man carrying a book under one arm propped open the front door before disappearing into the brightly lit sanctuary.
She finished her cigarette as churchgoers pulled into the car park and made their way inside. She was about to light up another when a short middle-aged woman climbed out of a station wagon. As she closed the door, her gaze landed on Amelia.
Amelia sunk further into the wall and averted her gaze. Since arriving in town a week earlier, she’d laid low. She’d bought groceries at the corner store at odd hours and gone back and forth from the apartment she shared with two other bartenders. That was it. She didn’t want to get to know anyone. Water’s Edge was a pit stop, just as her last town had been. And the town before.
The soft patter of white tennis shoes stopped in front of her. Sighing, she raised her head.
The woman stood before her, a cheerful smile bunching up her round face. Strands of silvery hair, twisted into a bun at her nape, escaped to tangle in the equally silvery necklace laying over her ruffled blouse. A cross glinted from it.
Amelia groaned. That’s all she needed. A Goody Two-shoes.
The woman’s smile broadened. “Hello.”
Angling her head, Amelia stood with folded arms while the woman rabbited on.
“I’m Charlotte Brown. I own the diner here in Water’s Edge. You must be new in town.” She waved a pudgy little hand, polish-free nails, only one ring. “I know just about everyone. No one passes up the diner’s weekend lunch specials. What’s your name, dear?”
Dear? Seriously? No one had called her ‘dear’ in a long time. If ever.
“Amelia.” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed.
The corners of the woman’s blue eyes crinkled as she extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Really? How could this respectable woman think it was nice to meet her?
Although her hand smelled of beer and the skulls on her rings would no doubt offend this gentle lady, Amelia accepted the gesture and took her hand. That soft hand—or maybe it was the woman’s whole persona—wrapped around her like a cuddly blanket and drew her in.
Peering at Amelia, the woman lowered her brow. “Are you all right?” Her voice was as soft and embracing as her hand. “You look like you’ve had a rough night.”
Amelia blinked back tears. Rough night? What an understatement. “Yeah, but it comes with the job.”
“You work in the bar?”
Here it came—the condemnation. Shedding the woman’s hand, Amelia ground her teeth and tightened her arms over her chest. “Yep.”
The woman nodded to the church. “Service is about to begin. Would you care to join me?”
Join her? Amelia frowned. She hadn’t set foot in a church in years. Her parents had never been much for getting right with God on Sundays. But this woman’s kindness and the strong urge to turn her back on the bar had her thinking.
It could be just the thing. Wasn’t she looking for something?
The woman patted Amelia’s forearm. “We can slip in the back. We won’t disturb anyone.”
The assurance that she, a black sheep, wouldn’t be paraded down the aisle in front of the citizens she’d so diligently avoided sealed the deal. She took a deep breath. “Okay. Why not?”
The woman’s smile threatened to stretch off her face. “Excellent! Come along, then.”
Amelia had nothing to lose by playing hooky to attend church, except her job. But she’d planned to move on soon anyway, so what did it matter? She followed the woman—Charlotte?—across the road.
Who’d have guessed that not only would she lose her job but also her impromptu church trip would change her life?
