“The air must be dry,” I said lamely, hoping to explain away the crackle.
I didn’t expect his response. “I have a girlfriend.” The words practically tumbled out of his mouth.
“Oh, um ... .” I had no idea what to say.
“I have a girlfriend and it’s serious,” he stressed, taking a step back from the counter and avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry.”
I worked my jaw. “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I said finally. “Nothing happened.”
He moved toward the door, his eyes finally latching with mine. “I have a girlfriend,” he said for the third time.
“So you’ve said.”
“I just wanted to be clear on that.” He pushed on the first door and then became distracted fiddling with the same lock that had tripped me up the first time. “Tell your grandfather I’ll be back. Make him stop hiding from me.”
“Yeah. I’ll get right on that.”
5
Five
I was still fuming about Hunter’s insistence on volunteering his girlfriend news — three times — when I wandered back into the kitchen and found Grandpa standing before the grill as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“So, eggs and hash browns?”
I glared at him. “Where did you go?”
He was the picture of innocence. “What are you talking about? I’ve been right here. You took off to check the door. Who was it, by the way?”
I wanted to crawl over the counter and shake him. “Really?”
“I’m always curious when someone knocks on the door fifteen minutes before we open. That right there is a dedicated customer.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “It was Hunter.”
“Oh, yeah?” Grandpa’s expression reflected mild bafflement. I had to hand it to him, he was a master at pretending to think one thing when I knew he was wondering about something else. “Did he want breakfast?”
I shook my head. “Oh, cut the crap.” I’d been living in Shadow Hills full time a grand total of three days, yet it felt as if I’d never left. “I know darned well that you took off when you realized it was him. I want to know why.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never left this spot.”
“I didn’t suddenly go blind.”
“You were blind drunk last night, so it seems a possibility.”
I growled. “That won’t work on me. Not even a little. What are you hiding?” Something horrible occurred to me. “Oh, geez. You didn’t kill Roy Axe, did you?”
Grandpa’s eyebrows practically flew off his forehead. “How can you possibly ask me that? I mean ... really, Stormy. I’m your grandfather. You’re supposed to have more faith in me.”
He was definitely full of crap. “You’re hiding something.” I was certain. Unfortunately, I had no idea what that “something” could possibly be. He was my grandfather, but it wasn’t as if I’d been present in his life the last few years. I’d been too wrapped up in myself. That made me feel guilty. He was standing there trying to convince me I was an idiot even though I knew better, though, so the sentiment was quickly extinguished by hot rage. “What is it?”
“I’m not hiding anything. And, because of your attitude, you’re on your own for breakfast. I hope you’re happy.” He turned on his heel, heading to the aisle behind the grill. There was nothing back there except the dishwashing rack, but he seemed perfectly content to hide behind the exhaust port that covered the back of the stove area.
“I’m not simply going to forget that you’re acting like an idiot,” I called out. I was convinced he could hear me. “Hunter isn’t an idiot either. He won’t stop until he talks to you. He told me to tell you that.”
“Oh, is that what’s wrong?” I still couldn’t see Grandpa, but he’d confirmed he was hiding in the far aisle. “Are you upset because you’re going to see him again? I thought you didn’t care.”
“I don’t care.” Especially now that he made a point to tell me he had a very serious girlfriend. “Hunter Ryan is nothing but a memory. You need to accept that.”
“I’ll accept it as soon as you do.”
“Whatever.” I heaved out a sigh and turned back to the front of the restaurant. There were now three regulars lined up outside the door. “I’m going to open. You’d better prepare yourself.”
“I’m always prepared. I’m like a Boy Scout that way. Perhaps you should prepare yourself.”
“I’ve got everything under control.”
“I FEEL LIKE I’M DYING,” I complained to my Aunt Trina about twenty minutes into the lunch rush. I’d barely made it through the breakfast rush, thinking things would get easier when more wait staff showed up.
I was wrong.
“You’re just not used to it.” Trina had short hair, the type popular in the seventies. She dyed it an unnatural shade of red. I’d never seen anything like it outside of a crayon box. She was blond like my mother, but I’d never seen a single photo of her without what she referred to as her Starburst of Love. I very much doubted that was a real color, but she insisted it was. “Things will get better.”
She took a drag on her cigarette and flicked the butt out the back door. It was illegal to smoke inside an eating establishment in Michigan. Trina flouted that law every chance she got — as long as my grandfather wasn’t around to witness the dastardly deed. Right now he was up in my apartment. Again. He’d taken his newspaper. Again. I didn’t want to think about what he was doing up there. His absence was enough to embolden Trina, though, who didn’t bother stepping outside for her nicotine fix.
“Have I told you how happy we all are to have you back?” she asked, beaming at me. She had a megawatt smile, her greatest asset. Unfortunately, the smile was often the only thing firing on all cylinders. “You’re my favorite niece.”
“Uh-huh.” I didn’t believe that for a second. “I bet you say that to Alice all the time, too.”
“She’s my second favorite.”
“I’m going to ask her when I see her.”
Trina lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “She lies. Don’t believe anything she tells you.”
Brad, who had taken over cooking duty, snorted as he regarded his younger sister. He was the middle child — two sisters older, one sister and a brother younger — and acted as if he’d been overlooked his entire life. As the first boy in the family, I doubted that was true, but my perception meant nothing to him. All he cared about was how he felt.
“If Trina is telling you tall tales, Stormy, you should run away now,” he instructed. “She’s a bad influence. In fact, I’ve warned my kids that they can’t hang around her.” He leaned forward, as if he was going to whisper, and then bellowed the rest of his story. “She smokes pot behind the storage building.”
I stared at him for a beat, unsure what I was supposed to say. “Okay?” I managed.