so much different in the dry daylight. It was sort of cute — all the buildings so small and quaint. We passed by the grocers, the post office, the cinemas, and dozens of littlestores before we got to what I had to assume was the comfortable joint in question.
We pulled up in the parking lot beside a little pink automobile. I couldn’t help it — my eyebrows raised and I reached out for Miss Beatrice. She turned in alarm. “What is it?”
I pointed. “That car is
pink
!”
Who ever thought of such a thing?
Miss Beatrice smiled as if I were some flighty child. “Yes, that’s Irene Goodey’s car. She’s an …
interesting
young woman.” She began to open the door, then turned to look at me. “You’ll see plenty of that pink car in the future, Allie. Come on.”
I looked over my shoulder one last time before walking into the restaurant with Miss Beatrice.
Someone squealed upon our entrance.
What in the world?
I looked up to see a woman in a hot pink dress come running in our direction, hands outreached.
I didn’t know they made fabric in that color
.
“Irene,” Miss Beatrice said, holding out her arms. The two embraced, and from my spot I could just catch a whiff of the perfume Irene was wearing.
“Oh, and
who
is this?” Irene asked, turning to me. She was young, maybe twenty or so, with bright red hair and green eyes. She gave me a dazzling smile, and for a moment I forgot that she talked in accented syllables and wore hot pink. She was that pretty.
“This is Al-cee-u-nee.” Beatrice drew out every syllable.
Irene wrinkled her little nose, amused. “I’m going to have to get you to write that one down.”
“Call me Allie.” I was stricken with a sudden shyness that caused me to look down at my shiny new shoes.
Irene grinned. “
I’m
Irene. And I just know I’m going to love you.” She winked at me. “After all, we’re sisters now.”
Sisters?
My brows pinched together.
But that would mean …
Miss Beatrice smiled and turned to me. “Alcyone, this is Irene Goodey, my daughter.”
Irene grinned and squeezed Miss Beatrice’s spidery hand, then giggled. “Don’t let her get the better of you, cheeky. Stick up for yourself and she’ll never spank you
too
hard.”
Miss Beatrice frowned at Irene and dropped her hand. But there was a twinkling in her eye. “Irene Goodey! Speaking like that to a child! I ought to spank you right now.”
I found myself breathing a prayer — something I never do — out to the universe for poor Miss Goodey’s safety. However, my prayers didn’t need much answering, because the next second Irene was laughing and pouring us both tall glasses of iced tea.
“How do you like my restaurant, darling?” Irene asked, sending me a wink.
I looked around the room. The tiled floors were squeaky clean, the tables neat and tidy, the soda machines shiny and new. The whole place could have been a spread out of Mama’s
Good Housekeeping
magazine, were it not for the splashes of pink. Just where you thought there wouldn’t be, a patch of hot pink would flash at you from some discreet corner. The menus, the roses on the tables, the fuchsia-colored clock.
I frowned. Honestly, pink was following me everywhere.
I turned to Irene as realization dawned on me. “You own this restaurant.”
Irene stared at me in silence before throwing back her head and laughing — a half choking, half snorting sound thatwas utterly charming and unpredictable. I ducked my head again.
“Why,
honey
,” Irene chuckled, glancing at Beatrice, “you didn’t realize that?”
Even Miss Beatrice couldn’t resist a smile. “It is called Goodey’s Diner, Alcyone.”
“I can’t take all the credit for it, though.” Irene grinned at Beatrice. “Mom gave Daniel and me the money to start it.”
I risked a sideways glance at Miss Beatrice and took a long sip of my tea. She gave Irene a warm smile and then sent it in my direction.
As if I needed her smiles. Or her love. As if I would
We pulled up in the parking lot beside a little pink automobile. I couldn’t help it — my eyebrows raised and I reached out for Miss Beatrice. She turned in alarm. “What is it?”
I pointed. “That car is
pink
!”
Who ever thought of such a thing?
Miss Beatrice smiled as if I were some flighty child. “Yes, that’s Irene Goodey’s car. She’s an …
interesting
young woman.” She began to open the door, then turned to look at me. “You’ll see plenty of that pink car in the future, Allie. Come on.”
I looked over my shoulder one last time before walking into the restaurant with Miss Beatrice.
Someone squealed upon our entrance.
What in the world?
I looked up to see a woman in a hot pink dress come running in our direction, hands outreached.
I didn’t know they made fabric in that color
.
“Irene,” Miss Beatrice said, holding out her arms. The two embraced, and from my spot I could just catch a whiff of the perfume Irene was wearing.
“Oh, and
who
is this?” Irene asked, turning to me. She was young, maybe twenty or so, with bright red hair and green eyes. She gave me a dazzling smile, and for a moment I forgot that she talked in accented syllables and wore hot pink. She was that pretty.
“This is Al-cee-u-nee.” Beatrice drew out every syllable.
Irene wrinkled her little nose, amused. “I’m going to have to get you to write that one down.”
“Call me Allie.” I was stricken with a sudden shyness that caused me to look down at my shiny new shoes.
Irene grinned. “
I’m
Irene. And I just know I’m going to love you.” She winked at me. “After all, we’re sisters now.”
Sisters?
My brows pinched together.
But that would mean …
Miss Beatrice smiled and turned to me. “Alcyone, this is Irene Goodey, my daughter.”
Irene grinned and squeezed Miss Beatrice’s spidery hand, then giggled. “Don’t let her get the better of you, cheeky. Stick up for yourself and she’ll never spank you
too
hard.”
Miss Beatrice frowned at Irene and dropped her hand. But there was a twinkling in her eye. “Irene Goodey! Speaking like that to a child! I ought to spank you right now.”
I found myself breathing a prayer — something I never do — out to the universe for poor Miss Goodey’s safety. However, my prayers didn’t need much answering, because the next second Irene was laughing and pouring us both tall glasses of iced tea.
“How do you like my restaurant, darling?” Irene asked, sending me a wink.
I looked around the room. The tiled floors were squeaky clean, the tables neat and tidy, the soda machines shiny and new. The whole place could have been a spread out of Mama’s
Good Housekeeping
magazine, were it not for the splashes of pink. Just where you thought there wouldn’t be, a patch of hot pink would flash at you from some discreet corner. The menus, the roses on the tables, the fuchsia-colored clock.
I frowned. Honestly, pink was following me everywhere.
I turned to Irene as realization dawned on me. “You own this restaurant.”
Irene stared at me in silence before throwing back her head and laughing — a half choking, half snorting sound thatwas utterly charming and unpredictable. I ducked my head again.
“Why,
honey
,” Irene chuckled, glancing at Beatrice, “you didn’t realize that?”
Even Miss Beatrice couldn’t resist a smile. “It is called Goodey’s Diner, Alcyone.”
“I can’t take all the credit for it, though.” Irene grinned at Beatrice. “Mom gave Daniel and me the money to start it.”
I risked a sideways glance at Miss Beatrice and took a long sip of my tea. She gave Irene a warm smile and then sent it in my direction.
As if I needed her smiles. Or her love. As if I would
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