Prologue

Summer 2021

W yatt Stone expected to be kicking back on the plane, relaxing, reflecting on his recent success. Instead, he was headed to Austin, Texas.

An eighteen-wheeler muscled by, pounding a rush of water. Grumbling under his breath, he pushed back against the seat and tightened his grip as the wave receded. The wipers squeaked, slapping at the pelting summer rain. Streaks of light peeked from a break in the clouds, the sky turning bright blue. Each town on this drive looked like the last—white dots blurring into one. He pushed down on the accelerator and welcomed the thrust of power on the dry road.

Unclasping his hand, he pressed stiff fingers against his temple, around and around. It wasn't helping. The contentious meeting in Houston kept replaying in his mind.

A neon sign flashed at a station ahead on the right, the gas gauge and navigation screen calling for a stop. He pulled beside a pump, refueled, and headed inside.

The curly-headed attendant lifted his gaze toward the chime, the glass door slamming closed, a broken metal spring dangling from the hinge.

"I paid for the gas at the pump. Just gum, spearmint." Wyatt grabbed a green pack, the bitter burned-coffee taste lingering. A waft of fumes from his hand tickled his nose. "Hey, got a napkin?"

The attendant nodded at a blue stack on the counter.

"What's the name of this town?"

"Grandville."

"Anything good to eat? Not fast food. Maybe something sit-down, not fried." Wyatt wiped his hands.

"Around the corner is Food to Remember. Lots of locals eat there. It's not bad. Never heard any complaints."

"Thanks, man." He tossed the napkin in the trash can, stepped outside, the door banging shut behind him.

When he drove around the corner, a flash blinded his eyes, sunlight reflecting off the silver metal panels on a white building. He flipped the visor. The words Food to Remember arced over a marquee in black metal letters. His stomach pinched with a rumble. Couldn't have that during the meeting. The open parking spots suggested a dwindling lunch crowd. He'd make it to Austin in time if he ordered fast.

The pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted him at the door. Dazzling lights on an authentic-looking jukebox. Crimson upholstery, contrasted by off-white center inserts, covered the seats. High-backed booths hugged the wall. Stools lined the long counter. The patterned-tile floor followed the same hues. A few customers lingered, finishing their lunch.

"It's a cliché, but I say tall, dark, and handsome never goes out of style." The blonde-haired waitress's voice echoed through the open room. She giggled, speeding past the other waitress. "I'll take the dreamy guy. You can seat Mr. Meadows. I see him coming through the door. He wore his tennis ball shirt today." With a flirty toss of her long hair, she wiggled her curves his way.

Wyatt glanced back. A man in his early seventies lined up behind him, presumably Mr. Meadows. He wore a yellow-green knit shirt with fancy stitching. Wyatt held his lips closed tight. The shirt, indeed, resembled a tennis ball.

"Mr. Meadows, Anna is getting your table ready right now." The server spoke with a sugary voice. She sent Wyatt an engaging smile.

He scratched along his forearm and ignored her flirting. With his next meeting looming ahead, he had no time for any distractions.

"Welcome to Food to Remember. I'm Evie. I have a table for you right over here." She wiggled along, taking the lead.

His feet followed Evie until the other waitress—Anna—came into view. Something was familiar about her. Did he know her? A tickle started on the back of his neck. Anna Stanten. Was it possible? Could she be here, working in this random place, at a stop on a detour to Austin?

"This is your table." Evie's dark eyes followed his gaze.

"I thought I recognized someone," he explained. "I'll look over the menu and let you know in a minute. Just water and coffee for now."

She pocketed her pad with a dramatic huff.

He wanted to ease Anna's pain as she rubbed her shoulder, his gaze following her's to the clock on the wall. His heart shivered when she glided across the room toward him, her gentle smile affirming the depth of her beauty. Sun-kissed brown hair pulled back, wisps falling around her delicate cheeks. The uniform hugging her fit frame etched itself into his mind as he longed to wrap her in his arms. He forced down a swallow, holding his breath.

Evie glanced over, smoothing her apron. He waved her off.

His imagination transformed Anna with each step—younger and younger—until she matched his faithful memory. He pictured her reading his childish notes. Two young children struggling to be strong. One note waited for her now in the tree house among the squatty trees. He winced, his knuckle pressing hard against his brow.

She glanced his way and it felt as if time stood still. Her rich-brown eyes fixed on his. His feelings awakened with the sight of her, the memories of her.

He pulled off his jacket, rolled up his pressed sleeves, and dabbed the sweat from his brow with the napkin beside his cup.

"Hi, Mr. Meadows." She paused before him, her expression kind. "I see you wore the shirt your wife bought you last year. She sure loved tennis. The shirt always reminds me of her."

The older man's eyes glistened.

"You havin' the usual?"

He nodded, wiping a hand across his eye.

Needing a distraction, Wyatt maneuvered around the tables to the jukebox.

Evie's flirty laugh carried from another table.

When Anna returned from the kitchen, Andy Williams's version of "Can't Take My Eyes off You" serenaded her with the words Wyatt yearned to say—hoped to say—when the time was right. Her gaze darted from the vacant jukebox before settling on him. He lifted his coffee cup, holding her gaze.

"Can you top off my coffee? It's some of the best I've had in a while." He managed to keep his tone smooth and easy when she came his way. "You from around here?"

"I'll get you some coffee." She brushed off the personal question, her smile sweet. "Be right back."

His heart chilled. She didn't recognize him. Had he changed so much? Or had she never thought of him again?

A full pot of coffee in hand, she headed back toward him. His phone vibrated on the table. He ignored the interruption, his focus on her.

"I'll take care of my own tables, thank you. I got this one!" Evie snapped over her shoulder.

Anna shrugged.

His heart crashed when she turned away.

"Anna!" a man hollered from behind the counter. "I need you to help out at table five! They're tired of waiting."

Wyatt craned his neck. The man was getting under his skin.

"That's Evie's table." Anna replied.

"Did I ask you that?" The man barked.

Her shoulders drooped as she found her pen and scribbled table five's order, ignoring the lyrics he so yearned for her to hear.

"See you next time." Mr. Meadows laid his fork on an empty plate. He withdrew a twenty-dollar bill, closing it into her hand with a gentle squeeze.

She smiled, thanked him, and pocketed the cash.

An arrow punctured Wyatt to his core. Was she okay? Did she struggle for money?

A new shift arrived. A friendly waitress with bright-red lipstick and glittered nails worked the room, coffeepot in hand. "Hi. I'm Sandy. Need your coffee warmed?"

"Sure. Great place. I've never been here before."

Her eyes shone. "I work with great people. I guess you're right. That does make it a great place."

"I'm just passing through, headed to Austin. I thought I recognized one of the waitresses—Anna. But it couldn't be her. She doesn't live here." He said over Elle James singing "At Last."

"She's only been here for about a year. She lived in Houston before that."

"Well, it's probably not the girl I knew when I was young. Her given name is Anastasia."

Sandy let out a gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

She wouldn't win at poker.

"Where do you know her from?"

"Idaho. We were neighbors when we were kids."

"You don't say? I think her mother mentioned that they lived in Idaho before Texas. After Lila's death, Anna moved here, poor girl." Her lips pursed. "Her mother's death hit her pretty hard."

He twisted to stretch, the seat becoming uncomfortable. "Wow, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Lila had some tough breaks, but she was kind to me when I needed it."

Evie scampered from the other side of the room, her foot tapping on the floor. "Sandy, this is my table."

Sandy rolled her eyes and headed to another table to take their order.

"Anything else I can do for you? I get off in a few minutes." Evie batted her eyes and inched closer to the table—to him.

His phone rang again. "Just the ticket, please." He held the phone against his chest. "Sorry, I need to take this call. It's the office."

Greta Alan. She'd hired him when he was an inexperienced young attorney. After a few years, she'd promoted him to Chief Legal Officer. She was a force in her relentless pursuit of success. She built an empire with Alan Corporation as the cornerstone. She didn't make excuses or let anything—or anyone—

stand in her path. The woman worked twenty-four seven, expected loyalty, and paid generously. Her son, Devlin, was heir-in-waiting, according to rumors. He must've grown up alone, almost forgotten. Wyatt could relate. He pressed his hand hard against the table.

But over the past few months, Greta seemed antsy, unsettled, maybe even paranoid.

The phone's vibration reminded him of the pending call.

"Wyatt Stone."

"Sounds like you had success in Houston. Congratulations. I knew you could pull it off."

"Thanks. But I missed my flight, so I'm keeping the rental and driving to Austin. I'll drop the car off at the airport and fly out from there."

Behind the counter, the man's bark grew louder, grating as it echoed against Wyatt's ears. He tensed, his grip tightening around the phone.

"Did you hear me?"

"Sorry, Greta. I got distracted. The manager at this diner is a real jerk, screaming at the employees. It would bother me regardless, but I recognize one of the waitresses from Idaho. He keeps yelling at her." He checked the time on the screen. "Wow, I need to leave if I'm going to make it." He reached into his pocket and placed enough to cover the bill and a nice tip on the table. His thoughts drifted back to Anna and the tip from Mr. Meadows. Evie probably needed it too. He dropped another ten.

"Did you say Idaho? That is a coincidence."

"You wouldn't know her." He rubbed a hand across the rough stubble on his jaw. "Well, you might. She's related to Atticus Urbacch—his great-niece, Anastasia, Lila's daughter. She goes by Anna now." Atticus—a relationship out of character for Greta. By all accounts, a recluse of his own design, Atticus had few redeeming qualities. But of course, Wyatt didn't know either of them personally. Maybe neither of them were what they portrayed.

"Anastasia Stanten? She's there? Someone is yelling at Anastasia? Where are you?"

Whoa. He almost let out a low whistle, caught off guard. Where'd that interest come from? "Grandville, Texas. A little diner called Food to Remember." He glanced at the counter, walking past. "I sure don't like the way that guy is talking to her."

Sunlight struck him as he stepped from the air-conditioned sanctuary and hit the rental's key fob.

"Hmm… We're always looking to diversify the business. It might be interesting to own a diner. Of course, I'd want to know more financial details, and I'd need someone there from Alan Corporation that I could trust to keep an eye on things."

"You're serious?" He started the engine and pulled onto the road.

"I'm always serious about business and things I consider important."