Black Ember by Ruby Laska Page A

details Georgia had ever shared with her. He was a year older when they met.
    “—average height and build, still has most of his hair.”
    “What color?”
    “Oh, you know, kind of brown.”
    Caryn sighed. This wasn’t going anywhere. “Did you pay this much attention when you were a lawyer?”
    Zane blinked. “How did you know I used to be a lawyer?”
    “Deneen and I talked. You know, like normal people.” The truth was that Deneen had volunteered everything she knew about Zane over a cup of coffee. “And I have to say I was surprised. Because, and I’m just saying, I thought attorneys had to be good with details.”
    “Spot on, genius, you just figured me out,” Zane said. “Fired for incompetence. I couldn’t even remember my clients’ names.”
    He was joking with her, but Caryn thought she detected an edge to his humor. Maybe he had been fired, but she doubted it had to do with incompetence. Zane wasn’t much good at crafts, but he had a confidence about him that didn’t mesh with the idea of failure. He was a man who was used to being good at what he did.
    Maybe he’d been fired for doing something illegal. That would make sense. Why else run so far away from where he grew up, to land a job that had nothing to do with what he trained for?
    “I’ll tell you what I know about Buddy,” Zane finally relented. “He was in the military. Did a couple of tours in Iraq. You know that bartender, Turk?”
    “Yes…”
    “They served together. Turk came back carrying some PTSD with him. He was struggling for a while, in and out of the hospital. When Buddy found out, he offered him a job at the bar, and a place to stay until he got back on his feet.”
    Caryn raised an eyebrow. This was certainly new information, something else her mother had never told her. Of course, maybe Georgia hadn’t known: during the Iraq war, she had been busy caring for a small child and looking for a husband.
    But Buddy’s service in the war would also explain some of the gaps when he hadn’t tried to reach her.
    Careful, she cautioned herself. Softening toward Buddy was the last thing she wanted to do. She hadn’t even met the man, and he was still a deadbeat dad, as far as she was concerned.
    “They live together?”
 “Just for a while, until Turk got his own place. I really don’t know much more than that. Other than Turk’s been working there the last few years, which gave Buddy a chance to cut back on his own hours.” Zane shrugged. “Course, that all happened before I moved up here, so take what I’m saying with a grain of salt. But Buddy apparently used to work around the clock. The bar was all he had, and he put all his savings and time into making it work. You probably couldn’t tell from just one night there, but a lot of the people who are regulars at the bar grew up around here. And one thing I’ll say for North Dakotans: they respect anyone who’ll pull their weight and work hard.”
    Something else that didn’t jibe with what Georgia had said. “He couldn’t be bothered,” was her most common refrain when detailing Buddy’s failures. Couldn’t be bothered to care for his child, to marry the mother, to keep a steady job.
    “So he cut back on his hours,” Caryn said, knowing she was heading into uncertain territory. “Does that have anything to do with, um, his health?”
    “Why do you ask? Trying to take over the place already?”
    “No, just—you know, he’s getting older.”
    “Aren’t we all.” Zane shot her a rueful grin. “Back in high school I could bench more weight than anyone but Jimmy. I could eat a whole combo pizza by myself, and get by on four hours sleep. Now I’m just a pale shadow of my former self.”
    Caryn couldn’t help but smile. She had burned the midnight oil in high school herself a few times, though in her case it was usually because she was up all night studying for her AP classes. Georgia and Randall had never insisted that she make top grades, but deep