She handed me a coffee. We stood side by side in silence for a moment, looking up at the building. The windows were still boarded on one side, and a fresh coat of primer covered the outer walls. It didn’t look like much yet, but I could envision its future.
“I keep thinking Dad’s going to walk out of the kitchen,” I said quietly.
Mom smiled. “You know he’d be going on and on about opening week specials.”
She took a sip of her coffee. I watched her for a second, noticing how carefully she held the cup and how her eyes lingered on the entrance like she could pull a ghost from its depth.
“I’m happy you’re doing this with me,” Mom added.
Her words felt sincere; I could hear it in her voice. Still, a small, stubborn part of me wondered if I was the last person she turned to. The brother that said yes.
I was happy to help, but up until now, I wasn’t sure if coming back was the right decision.
The thing that changed, though, had nothing to do with the diner.
I thought about Kira—the disgust in her eyes, the fury simmering just beneath the surface when she said she never wanted to see me again. Not exactly the reunion I’d imagined. The only way it could’ve been more cinematic was if she’d slapped me.
But that uncomfortable confrontation made me realize I made the right choice coming home. I felt more thrill in those five minutes than in the last seven years combined. There was something about being back in this place that woke me up, like I’d been sleepwalking and only just remembered what it meant to be alive.
I looked at Mom, noticing the quiet strength in her eyes and the lines etched onto her face that hadn’t been there when I left. “Me too. This is a chance to rebuild.”
To rebuild what, Landon?
My relationship with Kira? That felt as fractured as ever. My relationship with Mom? I may not be the favorite child, but it wasn’t like we had a relationship in need of repairing.
Rebuilding the diner felt like the real chance. A chance to feel needed, for once. But I knew that feeling wouldn’t last. Once we got it up and running, the diner, and maybe even my family, wouldn’t need me anymore.
Mom exhaled, a soft breath that almost sounded like relief. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead.”
“Good. I could use the distraction.”
Mom reached out and squeezed my arm gently.
“It’s the Cole way.” A phrase Dad used to say.
We turned back to face the diner, shoulder to shoulder. The wind rustled through the empty street. The building looked battered, half-forgotten, but standing tall.
It would take time. Months, probably. But we’d bring it back.
The walk-through with the contractor lasted until 5:00 p.m., so I assumed by now the Modern Muse would be open.
I was going out on a bit of a limb here, but I had already survived a conversation with Kira. Although Josh might rip me a new one for not having visited in seven years, I knew it wouldn’t hurt quite as bad.
Josh and I had been neighbors for years, and our friendship had always been easy. Growing up down the street from each other. Throwing hoops in his driveway. Attending the same school from day one of kindergarten until high school graduation.
I hadn’t seen him in years, but we’d kept up with each other on social media. For example, I knew Josh opened the bar of his dreams at the beginning of the year, at least according to an article I read inRoamer’s Digest.
It didn’t take long to find him behind the bar, wiping it down with a checkered rag. Josh looked exactly how I remembered him, except for fuller cheeks and a confident posture. He still cherished his beard and kept it perfectly maintained. Friendly blue eyes shined under the multitude of colored lamps in the bar. A sleeve of superhero-themed tattoos poked out underneath his plaid shirt.
Some things never changed.
The bar itself was uniquely designed, with each table having a lamp as its centerpiece. Some were classic Tiffany-style lamps with stained glass, while others were sleek designs with brushed metal finishes. Sconces lined the walls, casting the light upward and downward. Strategically placed mirrors reflected the light from the lamps, enhancing the glow and making the space feel larger.
Josh finally looked up and saw me hanging out by the door.
There wasn’t a record to scratch, but someone in the back did shatter a glass at that very moment. I found it very fitting and was briefly struck dumb.
He balanced both his forearms on the bar and leaned forward, squinting at me like I was a ghost. I let him have a minute to process before walking to the bar.
