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Authors: Darlene Gardner
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you to do that for me.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” He was putting a spin on his proposal so his aunt would accept his help, Sara realized, wondering at the strain she picked up between them.
Mrs. Feldman chewed her lower lip, appearing unsure whether to accept even though the prospect of losing her home had to be a powerful motivator. “So what can I do for you?”
“You don’t have to do anything for me,” Michael replied.
“How about if I make you a strawberry pie tonight? That was always your favorite. I’ll make roast beef and those mashed potatoes you like, too.” She turned to Sara. “Why don’t you have dinner with us, Sara?”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Sara said, fighting the urge to accept.
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Michael said so quickly Sara suspected he didn’t want to have dinner alone with his aunt. “Please come, Sara.”
“Thank you,” she said, ignoring her suspicion in favor of believing Michael wanted to have dinner with her. “I will.”
Q UINCY C OLEMAN sat at his usual booth at Jimmy’s Diner on Monday morning and ordered a breakfast of an egg-white omelet, whole wheat toast and fresh melon slices. He skipped the coffee for orange juice, a much healthier option.
“How long you been ordering the same thing, Quincy?” Ellie Marson tore the top sheet from her order pad, regarding him with one hand on her hip. Her hair had yet to gray and her energy was high, but she’d probably gained twenty pounds in the past twenty years. Quincy prided himself on weighing the same.
“About as long as you’ve been taking my order, Ellie,” Quincy said.
She laughed her raspy smoker’s laugh. “That may be, but I still start work at six and you’ve been getting here later and later. The crowd you used to eat with left an hour ago.”
The diner, in fact, was nearly deserted except for a young couple with kids and a pair of hiker types. Probably tourists. The hands on the clock above the counter were inching past ten-thirty, too soon for the lunch crowd.
“You’re jealous because you get up early to come to work, and I can sleep in and take my morning hike before you stop serving breakfast,” Quincy said.
“You got that right.” Ellie headed off to the back of the restaurant, barking an order to the cook as she went.
Quincy caught his reflection in the mirror behind the counter. With his trim build and the suit jacket he always wore when he came into town, he looked damned good for a sixty-six-year-old man.
Appearances, he’d always stressed to his family, were important.
He wouldn’t let anyone guess how miserable he’d been since he’d retired as the president of Indigo Springs Bank a year ago. He’d been unhappy before then, too, but his demanding job had occupied his mind. He stillserved on the bank’s board of directors, but now there were too many hours in the day to think about what he’d lost.
His beautiful daughter Chrissy, who’d died before she had a chance to really live.
And his wife Jill, who’d walked out on their marriage shortly after Chrissy died.
He rubbed at his eyes, wiping away tears before they had a chance to fall. Ellie returned with his breakfast so quickly the cook must have started his order as soon as Quincy arrived. She put the steaming plate of food in front of him, and he breathed in the scent of egg and toast.
Ellie cocked a hand on one rounded hip. “I suppose you heard Michael Donahue was at Johnny Pollock’s wedding?”
“I did.” He controlled his temper and offered Ellie the same response he’d given the four people who’d phoned him with the news. “It’s a free country. I can’t stop him from coming where he’s not wanted. I’m just glad he’s gone.”
“He’s not gone,” Ellie refuted. “I had a customer this morning who saw him and his aunt go into that new lawyer’s office on Main Street.”
“He can’t be meaning to stay!” The words erupted from Quincy like lava from a
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” He was putting a spin on his proposal so his aunt would accept his help, Sara realized, wondering at the strain she picked up between them.
Mrs. Feldman chewed her lower lip, appearing unsure whether to accept even though the prospect of losing her home had to be a powerful motivator. “So what can I do for you?”
“You don’t have to do anything for me,” Michael replied.
“How about if I make you a strawberry pie tonight? That was always your favorite. I’ll make roast beef and those mashed potatoes you like, too.” She turned to Sara. “Why don’t you have dinner with us, Sara?”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Sara said, fighting the urge to accept.
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Michael said so quickly Sara suspected he didn’t want to have dinner alone with his aunt. “Please come, Sara.”
“Thank you,” she said, ignoring her suspicion in favor of believing Michael wanted to have dinner with her. “I will.”
Q UINCY C OLEMAN sat at his usual booth at Jimmy’s Diner on Monday morning and ordered a breakfast of an egg-white omelet, whole wheat toast and fresh melon slices. He skipped the coffee for orange juice, a much healthier option.
“How long you been ordering the same thing, Quincy?” Ellie Marson tore the top sheet from her order pad, regarding him with one hand on her hip. Her hair had yet to gray and her energy was high, but she’d probably gained twenty pounds in the past twenty years. Quincy prided himself on weighing the same.
“About as long as you’ve been taking my order, Ellie,” Quincy said.
She laughed her raspy smoker’s laugh. “That may be, but I still start work at six and you’ve been getting here later and later. The crowd you used to eat with left an hour ago.”
The diner, in fact, was nearly deserted except for a young couple with kids and a pair of hiker types. Probably tourists. The hands on the clock above the counter were inching past ten-thirty, too soon for the lunch crowd.
“You’re jealous because you get up early to come to work, and I can sleep in and take my morning hike before you stop serving breakfast,” Quincy said.
“You got that right.” Ellie headed off to the back of the restaurant, barking an order to the cook as she went.
Quincy caught his reflection in the mirror behind the counter. With his trim build and the suit jacket he always wore when he came into town, he looked damned good for a sixty-six-year-old man.
Appearances, he’d always stressed to his family, were important.
He wouldn’t let anyone guess how miserable he’d been since he’d retired as the president of Indigo Springs Bank a year ago. He’d been unhappy before then, too, but his demanding job had occupied his mind. He stillserved on the bank’s board of directors, but now there were too many hours in the day to think about what he’d lost.
His beautiful daughter Chrissy, who’d died before she had a chance to really live.
And his wife Jill, who’d walked out on their marriage shortly after Chrissy died.
He rubbed at his eyes, wiping away tears before they had a chance to fall. Ellie returned with his breakfast so quickly the cook must have started his order as soon as Quincy arrived. She put the steaming plate of food in front of him, and he breathed in the scent of egg and toast.
Ellie cocked a hand on one rounded hip. “I suppose you heard Michael Donahue was at Johnny Pollock’s wedding?”
“I did.” He controlled his temper and offered Ellie the same response he’d given the four people who’d phoned him with the news. “It’s a free country. I can’t stop him from coming where he’s not wanted. I’m just glad he’s gone.”
“He’s not gone,” Ellie refuted. “I had a customer this morning who saw him and his aunt go into that new lawyer’s office on Main Street.”
“He can’t be meaning to stay!” The words erupted from Quincy like lava from a
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