Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

NOVA

Was it legal to strangle an ex-husband for failing to answer FaceTime calls six days in a row? Asking for a friend.

Okay, not true. I was the friend, and after watching my kids look crestfallen as their calls went unanswered day after day, I was ready for murder. Carter hadn’t answered when the kids called after their first day of school, and he hadn’t answered any evening since.

I typed that thought out in a text and sent it to Blair, my brother’s wife and one of my closest friends. She had wanted us to move in with them after the divorce, but they had two kids and a two-bedroom four-floor walkup. I wasn’t about to invade their lives like that.

I’d tried my best to keep the problems in my marriage to myself over the last few years. Gossip never helped anyone, and I wasn’t about to complain about Carter’s late nights and disinterest to my friends. Once he left me, Blair came to my aid. She saw me at my lowest, through multiple stages of grief, and never once batted an eye. She was one of my rocks.

My parents would have been there, too, had they not recently gone to the Philippines on a mission trip. Their Brooklyn terraced house was leased out in an ironclad agreement for the duration of their trip; otherwise, I wouldn’t have needed to come to Texas to live with my dad’s sister. It was still hazily in the back of my mind that we could move home in nine months when my parents returned to New York. I needed to think harder on that later.

I finished blow-drying my hair, scraped it back into a ponytail, and swiped mascara on. I pulled on the closest clothes I could reach. Gigi didn’t enforce a dress code in the diner—except the necessary closed-toed shoes—so I kept it casual. Blue T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Basically a mom wardrobe. No shame, since I was a mom.

My phone lit up with an incoming message. I picked it up off my bathroom counter.

Blair

According to my research, it’s generally frowned upon. But I’ll be your hitman. Just give me a time and a place and there will be blood

Nova

Maybe you’ve been watching too many true crime documentaries? That got dark fast

Blair

Not possible. Plus, I’ve learned a lot

I picked up my keys and let myself out of the apartment, walking across the alley to the diner and sucking in a breath of frigid air.

Nova

I’ve changed my mind. A good, solid cold-shoulder will suffice

Blair

We both know you aren’t going to do that

She was right, as loath as I was to admit it. Annoying, really. I could talk a big game, but if Carter put in any effort to speak to the kids, I would move mountains to make sure they answered the phone.

Nova

I won’t. But it has nothing to do with Carter

Blair

I know. It has everything to do with Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Where are my babies today? Can I FaceTime them?

Nova

School. Same as yours

Blair

Are you in the kitchen? Have you been baking?

My stomach constricted. There wasn’t a need for my specific baking skills here. Even if there was, it would probably feel weird and raw. My family had urged me to take the leap into starting a cookie company over the years, but Carter didn’t like the idea of me peddling for change—his words—so I’d mostly kept it to school functions and friends’ parties. I hadn’t made any cookies since he’d left.

Nova

Gigi has me cooking at the diner. I learned southern fried chicken last week and it wasn’t half bad

Blair

I think we need a two-hour phone date tonight and a solid update. Your texts don’t provide enough information

Make it FaceTime, because I want to see everything

Nova

It’s a date

“Good morning, lovey,” Gigi said when I let myself in through the back door of the diner. “You want to jump in and get the meatloaf going for lunch?”

“You spoil me,” I said, squeezing Dal’s shoulder on my way past him. Bacon sizzled and pancakes bubbled on the long flat cooktop.

But Gigi didn’t laugh.

I put my things in the cupboard at the end of the kitchen and faced her. Purple circles lined her eyes and her smile was forced. “What’s wrong?”

“I got bad news last night.” She gave a wan smile. “Had trouble sleeping, is all. I’m a little tired.”

She looked tired. I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t, which made me wonder if it wasn’t the right time or place to share her bad news. “Go home,” I told her. “Dal and I have this covered. Who’s coming in to waitress?”

She yawned. “Me.”

“Go home,” I repeated. “We can get Lacey in here.”

“She’s in at noon.”

“Pat?”

“Nope. She helps at the school on her days off.”

I wracked my brain, but the rest of the waiters were high school kids.

“I’ll make the meatloaf,” Dal said, freeing me up to waitress.

Gigi didn’t look convinced.

“Between the two of us, we can handle the place until noon,” I pressed. “Go home and rest. What’s the point of having me here if you don’t use me?”

She reached for her cup and knocked it over, flooding the counter and the floor with dark soda. “Fine,” she relented, staring at the mess. “I’ll go take a nap and return less clumsy. ”

I picked up a rag and got to work mopping up the drink. “Don’t set an alarm. Just sleep.”

Gigi grunted, but she opened the cupboard and took out her phone, keys, and jacket, so I still won. She paused, looking at the floor. “It’s Phoebe, my old college roommate. Do you remember her?”

“Yes.” I picked up ice cubes and tossed them in the sink.

“She just found out she has a brain tumor. They didn’t give her long. And, you know, she never had children, and Bob has been gone for almost fifteen years.”

“So she’s alone,” I said, realizing why this would deeply affect my aunt. Their situations were not so very different, to say nothing of how much she cared about Phoebe.

“She has friends. Her neighbors are wonderful.”

I put the rag down and pulled Gigi in for a hug. “Go rest. We’ll be fine here.”

She gave a watery smile and sighed on her way out of the kitchen. My heart felt sore from the emotional roller coaster I’d been through over the last few years, but hearing about Phoebe’s situation made me grateful for my health. Carter was a royal tool, but I still had my kids, a warm place to sleep, and bacon whenever I wanted it.

I reached over Dal’s arm and snagged a piece of overdone bacon in the reject pile and chomped down. We couldn’t send it out when it was too crispy, but that was just how I liked it. “Is anyone out there right now?”

“A few cops having breakfast. They might need a coffee refill, and their plates will be ready in about three minutes.”

“Got it.” I pulled a red apron from the wall and tied it around my waist, slipping an order pad and pencil in the pocket. I’d only been on the floor a handful of times to carry food out, and it had been years since I waitressed at a diner in college. It was probably like riding a bike, right? Either way, I’d been juggling children for over eight years, so I could handle a few hours of balancing tables.

I pushed through to the dining room and lifted the pot of coffee from the long Formica counter, carrying it to the booth against the window. Two uniformed officers sat across from each other, sipping at mugs. “More coffee?” I asked.

They looked up in unison. One of them was red-haired, freckled, and wore the curt smile so many cops adopted after years on the force. I would know, because it reminded me of my dad whenever he had been on duty. The other was blond, blue-eyed, and sharp jawed in a way that resembled my ex. He gave me a knowing smile, like he had a secret, and it unnerved me.

I raised my eyebrows.

“Yes, ma’am,” the redhead finally said.

I focused on pouring coffee into his cup, then turned my attention to the blond. “You?”

“Not right now, thank you.”

“Let me know if you need anything. Your breakfasts will be right out.”

I turned to leave when the second cop stopped me. “You new in town?”

Obviously . Having personal conversations with men wasn’t on my list of priorities, but I understood why police officers wanted to know more about me. It was their job to serve and protect, after all. “Yes, I’m here with Gigi for a bit.”

“Only a bit?” Blondie asked.

I shrugged, my hand growing sweaty beneath the coffee pot handle. “I’m not sure. My kids are enrolled at the elementary school, and my aunt gave me a job, so for now, we’re here.”

“For now,” he repeated, nodding, his mind working around something. Blondie put his hand out. “Officer Chad Lincoln, and this is Officer Travis Partridge. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Welcome to Arcadia Creek. ”

Maybe they weren’t so bad after all. I shook both of their hands. “Thank you.”

When I returned to their table a few minutes later with their plates of breakfast, the bell chimed above the door to admit two men and a woman in firefighter shirts and navy pants. Dusty caught my eye and my stomach swooped.

They walked past the table of cops but didn’t bother looking in their direction as they chose a booth further away.

“Good morning, Miss Walker,” Dusty said, sliding onto his bench. The woman sat beside him, and the other guy sat opposite.

I carried the pot of coffee over. “What can I get you to drink?”

“We just came off a 48-hour shift,” the other guy said loudly, probably for the benefit of the police officers, given the way he eyed them afterward. “A vat of coffee would be great.”

They all nodded, so I flipped their mugs and poured. “Are your shifts always so long? When do you sleep?”

“Two days on, four days off. The whole department does it this way,” the woman said, sliding her full cup toward her and inhaling. “We sleep when we aren’t needed.”

“But we were needed last night,” Dusty said, lifting his cup. “Structure fire out on Haddon Road.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“It was a mostly empty warehouse, so yes, everyone but the owner’s property is okay.”

“I’m glad.”

Dusty gave me a friendly smile. He looked tired, his eyes a little droopy. “As are we.”

“Let me fetch some menus. I’ll be back to take your order shortly.”

“Don’t need them,” the other guy said.

“Great.” I put the coffee pot down and pulled out my pad and pencil. “What can I get for you? ”

They placed their orders, and Dusty introduced his coworkers, Randy and Jill, who were both tired but polite. Randy was older than me, with a receding hairline and jovial smile, but he wore no ring. Jill looked to be in her mid-thirties and like maybe life hadn’t been too easy on her. Her brown hair was tied back in a knot, and her skin was free of makeup. She was small but looked strong. Although, I towered over most women, so she could be perfectly average.

“Do first responders often make a habit of breakfasting here?” I asked, my gaze drawing to the policemen and back.

Jill’s nose wrinkled. “Shift work,” she said with mild disgust.

“Don’t tell me the rivalry is real.” My dad had never been anything but appreciative of firefighters. He’d always been charitable—he was a missionary now that he’d retired, remember—so maybe that was a reflection on him more than his profession.

“It’s good-natured,” Randy said, as if that was enough of an explanation. I was beginning to think I’d fallen out of the real world and landed in a little Hallmark village.

“Dusty is rivals with everyone,” Jill said. “Linemen, anyone who went to A&M, cops, the secretary at the elementary school?—”

“Ms. Corbin?” I asked, slack-jawed. “She’s so jolly.”

“She won’t let us spray the kids when we bring our trucks to the school,” Dusty said in defense.

Randy took a drink of his coffee. “Safety hazard.”

“So she says, but they love it. They all line up to get soaked every parade.” He leaned back and drew his arm along the back of the bench seat, flopping it over Jill’s shoulder. “They love it.”

They probably did, but I imagined her disapproval had more to do with keeping all that water out of the school. “Maybe the safety hazard isn’t about spraying the kids and more about the slick floors when they return to their classrooms all wet.”

Dusty pulled his arm from the back of Jill’s seat and sat up, frowning. “She didn’t say that. ”

I shrugged. “Just a guess. I’ll get your orders in now.” I looked at the policemen. “How’s your food?”

“Great,” Chad said, winking at me.

Eww, weird.

“Careful making friends with the enemy,” Randy called as I walked toward the kitchen, “or you might join Dusty’s list of rivals.”

I looked at him over my shoulder while I walked toward the kitchen. Dusty and I had started out on the wrong foot, and I didn’t think it was going to right itself anytime soon. “Pretty sure I’m already on it.”

Then I pushed through the door to give Dal the order, my stomach doing a weird leap. That wasn’t flirting, right? Definitely not. I wasn’t even ready to look at another man, not really. I could objectively notice how attractive Dusty was or the way my heart started beating a little faster when he walked in the diner, but it was too soon to act on teenage fluttering. My kids needed my full attention during this transition period, and that could be nine months long and followed by another transition if we returned to New York when my parents came home.

But none of that needed figuring out now.

No, now I just needed to make it until noon when reinforcements would show up.

I could do this. One minute at a time.