Sink Trap by Christy Evans Page A

him, no question. You remember how much of a small town Pine Ridge is, everybody knows everybody else’s business. There wasn’t any hiding what happened.”
    That was life in a small town, all right. It was one of the reasons I had hesitated to come back to Pine Ridge, for fear everyone would know what happened in San Francisco. I tried Portland while I took plumbing classes at the community college, but the chance at on-the-job training in Pine Ridge was too good to pass up.
    Now I was sitting in the local tavern, sharing gossip with my former high school sweetheart, and I wondered how much he really knew about me . . .
    “I can’t believe you didn’t know. You were always the one with the news, the 411 on everybody. You and Sue kept me up on everything. And now I’m the one breaking the big scoop.” Wade drained his beer and grinned. “Kind of a nice change, actually.”
    He pointed to my nearly empty schooner. “Another round?”

    “Sure.” The word was out of my mouth before I thought about it, and Wade headed back to the bar.
    I should have said no. I knew it. But I signed on for the second act.
    I guess that makes what happened next my fault.

chapter 7

    If I had gone home early, we could have avoided the subject of Sandra Neverall, and her “friend” Gregory. But a second beer meant another hour in Tiny’s. The Councilman firmly believed in a “one drink, one hour” guideline.
    So did I. I was stuck.
    And another hour meant conversation that circled closer and closer to topics I didn’t want to discuss. As a distraction, I rattled on about the latest Homes for Help project. Wade told me he’d done some of the rough carpentry when they were framing the house.
    The shared connection gave me a warm glow. Or maybe that was just the second beer.
    At some point, I remembered dinner on Monday with my mother and Gregory, and told Wade. To my surprise, he didn’t groan or protest. In fact, he seemed to welcome the invitation.
    “You’re okay with that?” I asked him. “You don’t mind the command performance with my mother and her pal?”

    “Oh,” he said, with a look that said a lot more. “It’s like that, is it?”
    “Like what?” I refused to admit I knew what he meant.
    “You don’t like Gregory, do you?”
    “You’re answering a question with a question.”
    “You started it,” he said, not backing down. “And I asked you first.”
    I gave it a moment’s thought, then shook my head. “Actually, no. I asked the first question: if you were okay with having dinner with Mother and Gregory.”
    “Have it your way. Yes, I’m fine with having dinner with them. Gregory was a big supporter of my campaign when I ran for the Council, and we’ve worked together on a couple of committees. We get along just fine.
    “Now, it’s your turn to answer my question.”
    “Which one?” I stalled.
    “You don’t like Gregory Whitlock, do you?”
    I sat back and held myself straight in my chair. “I don’t know the man well enough to have an opinion.”
    “But you clearly do.”
    “Know him? No, I don’t.”
    “Have an opinion.” Wade’s voice was exasperated. “You clearly have an opinion of Gregory, and it isn’t positive.”
    “It’s not like that. I just don’t know anything about him.”
    “Except that he’s dating your mother.”
    “Is he?” I studied the foam on top of my beer, avoiding Wade’s eyes. I knew I would see sympathy, and I didn’t need anyone feeling sorry for me.
    “You know he is, Georgie.” Wade laid his hand over mine on the tabletop, and gave it a squeeze. “I know it’s tough. I went through the same thing when my mom started dating, after her divorce. Nobody was good enough.”
    He cleared his throat, and continued. “Nobody was my dad.”
    “I know that. I know she’s going to start dating. Dad’s
been gone three years.” I bit my lip, but I couldn’t stop the rush of words. “But he’s married!”
    “Divorced,” Wade said. “Now.” He