“I forgot
forks,” Rosalie said, darting up to retrieve them from the back room. When she
returned, Alex was turning the chair from side to side, looking a little more
comfortable.
“There’s
also the Hog on Galisteo Street. It’s owned by the
Stewarts. Do you know them?”
Rosalie
shook her head, eyeing her lasagna. “I only know you and the housekeeper and
the blond waitress at the diner.”
“Shelley,”
Alex offered.
“Are bars
the only social scene around here?” Rosalie asked, trying not to wince at the
possibility.
“Pretty
much, unless you go to church or AA or something.”
Rosalie
grimaced, nodding as she took a bite of her lasagna.
“You look
disappointed,” Alex said.
Rosalie
shrugged. “It’s different here than back home. It’s hard not knowing anyone.”
Alex nodded
as thoug
