Strolling into the diner with a little girl on his hip and a tall man behind him is Hank Keyes. He’s not in his uniform. He’s not here to question anybody. He’s here as a grandpa with his wife and daughter-in-law. His son. His grandchildren.
I stare at the girl, her ponytail swinging as she answers his question. He tips his head back with a laugh, then kisses her cheek.
I grind my teeth together, my eyes traveling to Emmett Keyes.
The one who lied.
The man who ruined everything.
Searching the diner for Dolly, I notice she’s tied up with Booth One, which leaves me to grab the menus and approach the big round table in the corner.
My chest is tight, breaths jerking out of me as I shuffle across the diner and wait for them all to be seated.
“How y’all doin’ today?” I start handing out menus.
I’ve forgotten how to smile, and those giddy bubbles I thought I couldn’t get rid of?
Yeah, well, they’re gone.
Passing a menu to Emmett, I risk a glance at him. His blue eyes skim my face as he takes the menu, clearing his throat and then avoiding all acknowledgment of my presence.
He’s been doing that my whole life.
Sure, it hurts, but I can live with it.
What I can’t live with is the fact that he turned most of this town against my mama, accusing her of storytelling when it was his fault she got pregnant in the first place.
“Do it again, Grandpa.” The little girl giggles and claps her hands.
I glance at the police chief, my heart sick and wounded as I watch him lavish his granddaughter with a loving smile and start singing her a silly tune.
He never did that for me.
Because he could never accept that his perfect son cheated on his girlfriend and knocked up Violet Birdman.
27
The Poster Boy
I take a sip of Dr. Pepper before checking on the deep fryer. The chicken’s looking crispy and perfect as I hook the basket up and let the oil drip out.
“This good?” Jackson dances around in front of the plates, obviously excited.
I’ve given him a little creative license with the plating and he’s doing a pretty good job, although his grand ideas need slight tempering.
“There’s nothing wrong with simple, son.”
I can hear Grandpa’s voice in my head and chuckle as I lean over Jackson’s shoulder.
“How about we take off a couple of those carrot swirls and let a little of that pretty red pepper show through?”
“You think?” Jackson looks doubtful as he removes the extra garnishes, but then his lips form this thoughtful pout and he bobs his head. “Better.”
Sliding the plates on the server, he dings the bell and shouts, “Order up!”
I muss his hair and get back to the grill.
The orders are coming in at a steady pace, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.
I’ve taken to this job way faster than I thought I would.
Grandpa would be proud.
The thought stops me for a second. I soak it in.
I haven’t given the man much to be proud of in a long time.
It feels good.
“Order u-p!” Jackson calls again.
“You don’t have to keep shoutin’ at me, Jackson!” Annie snaps, storming past the counter and slapping down a long order.
It must be for the big table in the corner.
I scan it, looking for signs of a fussy patron, but I don’t see anything.
Annie’s delicate nostrils flare as she spins away to grab the plates off the server.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m always fine!” Her fiery gaze shuts me up, and I glance down at her brother.
He shakes his head as she walks away, softly whispering, “She’s not always fine.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
Jackson scoots after his big sister, and curiosity pulls me right behind him. We steal a quick peek into the diner. It’s pretty full, and my eyes are drawn to Annie as she delivers three plates to Table Eight. She’s forcing a smile and the people barely acknowledge her. Were they rude before or—
“Aw, crap,” Jackson grumbles. “No wonder she’s in a bad mood.” He turns back into the kitchen and I follow him, moving to the grill so I can flip the meat patties.
“What’s the matter?” I unhook the basket of fried chicken and add them to the fresh plates I’ve lined up.
“The Keyes family is here.” Jackson points his thumb over his shoulder. “They’re at the big corner table.”
My gut tightens.
Hank Keyes is back?
Crap! What does he want now?
“He’s with his family?” I murmur, hoping I sound casual enough.
“Yeah. The older guy with the bushy eyebrows, that’s Hank Keyes. He’s the big-dog policeman in this town.”
“I met him.” My stomach is still clenched tight. A small part of me has been on high alert for the last few days, waiting for him to come by for another visit.
I keep my face turned away, hoping Jackson doesn’t notice me smashing my teeth together.
“And his wife’s the town doctor. But it’s the big idiot next to the window that’s really gonna ruin Annie’s day.”
I snicker. “And which idiot is that?”
“Emmett Keyes,” Jackson mutters darkly.
I place the plates down in front of him, and he starts slapping salad ingredients onto it.
“And why does your tone tell me you want to punch this guy?”
“Because when my mama got pregnant in high school and she told everyone that Emmett was the dad, he denied it. He didn’t want anyone knowing that he went and cheated on his girlfriend. He made up his own stories, telling everyone that Mama was making it up because she was trying to hide the fact that she slept around.” Jackson’s eyes flash with anger. “That’s bullshit right there. But of course, everyone loved Emmett, so he turned the whole damn town against her.” He throws a slice of tomato onto the plate and mutters, “And he turned his back on his daughter too.”
I rest my hand on the counter, staring down at Jackson while the pieces click into place.
Moving back to the kitchen entrance, I sneak a look at the guy. He’s tall and blond, broad across the chest. He looks like the poster boy for good country living in his blue-and-white polo shirt. I bet he played football and lived in a letterman jacket during high school. And I bet all the girls loved him.
He bounces his baby on his knee, smiling at his mother across the table.
Yeah, I can see it. That fine blond hair, those eyes… that grin.
Annie’s his daughter.
And he never claimed her.
What an asshole.
I search the room for Annie and spot her chewing on the end of her pen. She’s tucked behind the end booth, leaning against it and caught in a trance… staring at her father.
He laughs again and runs his hands across the soft down of his baby’s head before kissing her.
Annie’s forehead wrinkles, and she spins away from the idyllic scene.
I duck back into the kitchen before she sees me watching her.
Damn, it’s so unfair. Not only is the man who was supposed to raise her now looking like the world’s best dad, but she also has to live with a stepfather she fears.