Indivisible. Part 10

"Tia?" Piper approached wide-eyed.

Tia swung around with the basket, narrowly missing Jonah. "Let's go." Piper glanced over her shoulder but waited until they reached the elevator to ask, "Are you okay?"

"I'm furious, and I hate it."

Piper searched her face. "Sarge's pain-"

"No." She spun on her as the doors closed them in. "Don't excuse him."

"But you said-"

"Forget what I said. None of that matters, you know why? Because it's still a choice. Everyone gets hurt. It's what you do with it that matters."

"Can you change how you feel?"

"No. But you can change how you act." Tia punched the lobby b.u.t.ton as though force would make it respond.

"What happened with the chief?"

"He made excuses for Sarge."

"Why?"

"I don't know. He has ... some kind of relationship with the old man I've never understood."

"People care about Sarge."

She knew that. But this wasn't about Sarge anymore. He had sparked her temper, but Jonah ignited it.

The elevator doors split. The main doors parted. Swinging the basket at her side, Tia made for her car.

Piper stayed quiet until they were well on their way home, then sighed. "I guess I won't be staying."

Tia's hand fisted. "I'd hire you myself if I didn't already have Amanda covering my days off." The daughter of a friend from church rang up sales, swept, and dusted. She locked up behind her and showed no initiative. Sarge had a treasure in Piper that he didn't deserve.

Piper sighed. "I know you need the rent."

"I do. But you can get unemployment for a while. He had no grounds to fire you. You've been a model employee."

Piper shrugged. "Maybe I'll find something else."

Jobs in Redford were like lottery tickets. If you hit it just right, you might win, as she had with Sarge-or so they'd thought. Tia remembered going door to door at sixteen, filling out applications, knowing her reputation as a troublemaker preceded her. Finally, her mother had given her a few hours at the shop, where she could both control and ridicule her efforts.

Tia didn't like the merchandise, ceramic figurines and T-shirts with generic mountain town slogans, but she'd sold them. She'd sold them so well her mother accused her of lascivious behavior-she'd had to look that one up-but it was the first indication that Stella thought she had anything someone might want.

Maybe Piper didn't have those strikes against her, but finding a new job would be tough. With its proximity to the ski slopes, kids were less likely to leave Redford than many small towns, and shopkeepers helped keep it that way by hiring locals.

Piper had made her own job when she talked Sarge into it. And she was the best investment he'd ever made. Tia clenched the wheel, furious again. He'd fired her for getting him emergency help? He deserved to lose everything.

"Tia?"

She turned.

"It's not worth it."

"What?"

"Blaming Sarge. Wanting him to pay. My family's made it an art, and I don't think they're happy."

Tia huffed. "Mistreating people doesn't brighten things either."

Piper sighed. "No. But you can't help what other people think."

"You're not upset that Sarge fired you? That he's hollered at you this whole time? That he doesn't appreciate all you've done?"

"Of course I'm upset. But"-she shrugged-"that's how it goes."

"It's not how it should go."

Eight.

We cannot be separated in interest or divided in purpose.We stand together until the end.-THOMAS WOODROW WILSON Jonah stood in the hall long enough to contain his anger. Tia didn't want to see the truth. Neither did Sarge. Each clung to their positions, and the world could fall apart around them. Frustrated, Jonah settled back down beside Sarge. The old man looked as though he'd expended all his energy, but he wasn't through.

"That fire-haired she-devil has a nasty temper."

Tia's temper was a force. But they had set her off.

"Gave her mother a terrible time."

"That went both ways, Sarge."

"What?"

"With Stella."

Sarge scowled. "Who asked her here anyway?"

"Don't look at me. But Sarge, she has a point."

"What point?"

"You can't fire Piper."

Sarge narrowed his rheumy eyes. "I did, didn't I?"

"If you want to convince people you can be on your own, you have to make good decisions. Canning the person who's keeping you in business is not sound strategy."

Sarge chewed his lips, looking recalcitrant.

"You followed your instincts in hiring her," Jonah prodded.

"She gabbed her way in."

"But you saw the merit or you wouldn't have gone there." Just as Sarge had with him.

"She's trying to take over."

"She's on your side." He ripped open a package of fudge and put a square in the old man's hand. It tore him up to see the tremor in the pale palm. "What does every good commander do, Sarge? Delegate."

Sarge shoved the fudge into his mouth and sucked it into mush, then nodded. "All right. Tell her she still has a job."

"I think you should tell her." Jonah held out his phone. "You can reach Tia's cell. They're probably still in the car."

Sarge lowered his thunderous brows. "It was your idea."

"You're the boss."

"And I'm delegating."

Jonah sat back. Wily old man Wily old man. "Okay. I'll let her know." But he sure as heck wasn't calling Tia's cell. He stacked the baked goods onto Sarge's rolling arm table and left him sucking fudge.

Tia dropped Piper downtown and went home. Why did the best intentions so often go so wrong? If no one bothered with anyone else, would they be worse off or better in the long run? Strife came through interaction. Maybe everyone should just live their own lives and never try to impact another and never let themselves care.

Shaking her head, she went into her house and looked around. She could live alone. A lot of the time she did, renting the guest room to vacationers who came and went as though she didn't exist. Their independence suited her just fine. Maybe she encouraged it. Hard to tell.

Then came Piper. Not a boarder, but a roommate and friend. Would she miss her? She closed the door and climbed the stairs. Yes, she would miss her, and it wasn't fair and it wasn't right. Piper had done so much good.

Tia went into her room and looked bleakly around. It was a single woman's room. No husband's or boyfriend's photo on the bedstand. No children's clutter. The current stack of books to read, candles that seemed oddly pathetic. No keepsakes from a vacation, no sweetheart's roses pressed or dried. It was no mystery why. She was toxic.

She went to the window and looked through the organza to the houses across the street and the others spreading down the slope. She loved the lights in their windows and on their porches, like a cascade of candles. Looking at them now, she felt isolated, as though the single light from her bedroom was lost among them, insignificant.

Then she saw Jonah pull up to the curb. A groan came from deep within her. Hadn't he done enough? His walk to her door had purpose, but he hesitated before knocking. She stepped away from the window. Hesitation gone, he had knocked twice before she reached the door, enough to rekindle her indignation for Piper and his insulting stabs.

She pulled open the door and huffed, "What."

"Sarge wants to keep Piper on."

She leaned on the door. "So?"

That caught him short. "So ... I thought she'd be glad to know."

"Glad?" Like it was some favor? From the goodness of his heart? Jonah rubbed his face. "Is she here?"

"No."

"Do you know where-"

"She's out with friends. Since she doesn't have to work in the morning." She managed not to gloat.

"Well, can you give her the message?"

"If Sarge wants to rehire her, he can do it himself."

"Not stuck in the hospital."

"There's no telephone?" She folded her arms. "Anyway, I advised her to pursue other options."

"What, you're her mother now?"

Her mouth fell slack. "Thank you very much, Jonah. You hadn't quite reached your insult quota." She swung the door, but he caught it.

"I didn't mean you could be. Just you're acting like it." They exerted equal pressure for a few seconds, then she stopped pushing and looked away.

His voice softened. "I'm sorry about before. I was worked up from talking to Sarge's daughters."

She refused to meet his eyes. "Tell Sarge to call Piper when he's ready to discuss terms."

"Terms? Come on, Tia."

"Piper deserves better."

"She won't find a better setup. Sarge might not return in any real way. She'll have the opportunities she's wanted."

"Hah. He'll go to his grave with that bakery in his fist."

"I hope that's a long way off." His voice had an edge.

With a pang, she realized what she'd said. Eyes shut, she released her breath. "Sorry."

"Just tell her-"

"You tell her, Jonah. You be that curmudgeon's mouthpiece. I won't." She stepped back and shut the door. Stiffly she climbed the stairs, found her bed, and curled up in a ball. Jonah had compared her to the mean old man who'd driven away everyone who mattered. "Thank you so much," she bit out.

Piper felt a quiver when Chief Westfall entered the Summit Saloon. She'd just been canned in front of him by his good friend Sarge. Now she might have to start over somewhere else, and that hurt, but she didn't want him to see how much. He came to stand behind the stool next to hers-the one Mike Bunyan had vacated for a trip to the john.

She raised her Laughing Lab.

"Are you old enough to drink?"

She flashed her sunniest smile. "Want to see my ID?"

Lucas swept past on the other side of the bar. "I carded her."