“Yeah?”
“Thanks.” She disconnected.
I tucked my phone back into my pocket and headed back to the house. That gave me just enough time for a shower, another few cups of coffee, and a talk with my grandfather about appropriate breakfast conversation. Gramps still sat at the table, where I’d left him.
“Hey, we need to talk.”
Gramps looked up. “Haven’t we talked enough for one day?”
“You should have thought about that before you went and brought up things from the past.”
“You can’t change what kind of person your mama was.” The old man gave a slight shake of the head. “But you can change what kind of man you want to be.”
I forced down the anger rising in my chest. “You have no business talking about my mom like that. You don’t know what happened back then.”
“I know a lot better than you do. What were you, five? Six? When she left, you couldn’t have been more than first or second grade.”
Five. I was five years old when I came home from kindergarten one day to find my dad passed out in a recliner in the family room and my mom long gone. She’d left a note saying she was going to stay with her sister and would come back for us when she got a job and found us a place to live. That was the last time I’d heard from her.
“How dare you bring that up in front of a stranger?”
Gramps scoffed, laughed right into his mug of coffee. “I’d say you know that woman better than the vast majority of other people in this town. Do you think I couldn’t hear the two of you going at it all night long? She ought to know what she’s in for, don’t you think?”
That was it. The man must have lost his mind, at least the part that had still been working. I stomped out of the house, leaving him to his memories and judgments. I’d sacrifice that extra coffee and head to Char’s early if it meant getting away from my grandfather.
As I passed through town, I caught a glimpse of the Burger Bonanza sign. I may as well stop in and grab a cup of coffee to go.
A few minutes later I leaned against the counter while I waited for the waitress to stop by and grab my order. I hadn’t spent much time in town since I’d been back—I’d been busy from dawn till dusk trying to get the warehouse ready for the impending penguin arrival. As I sat there waiting for my fix of caffeine, I let my gaze roam over the place. Same booths. Same countertop. Same cantankerous cook slinging burgers in the kitchen. It was comforting on some level to know that no matter how long I’d been gone or how far I traveled, places like this would always stay the same.
Kind of like my grandfather, I supposed. Maybe I’d been too rough on the man. I kneaded the back of my neck as someone slid into the booth behind me.
Must have been two people based on the way they traded muffled words back and forth. I didn’t pay them much mind until I heard a phrase that set off a chain reaction of protectiveness. “Stupid, dog-loving bitch.”
They could be talking about anyone, but my mind immediately went to Zina. I fought the urge to whip around and set them straight. But that wouldn’t do any good. So I sat there in silence, straining to pick up tidbits of the conversation. The waitress came over to take my order, and I decided to stick around and try to figure out what they were talking about. While she chattered away at me, I missed out on a good chunk of what was being said. I swore I heard the word “pity.” But it couldhave been “pity” or “pittie.” Laying into a man for mistaking something he said wouldn’t do any good, so I waited.
The talk between them stopped when their food arrived. I was left to sip on my coffee and hope they started up again before I had to leave to get to Char’s. I tried to turn my head and catch a glimpse of them without being too obvious as I signaled the server over for more coffee. All I could see from the corner of my eye was a pair of well-worn steel-toed work boots and a hand before the man shifted farther into the booth. Dammit. The man did wear a ring though. Looked like something I’d see on a biker. I could have sworn it was a skeleton.
I pulled out a few bucks and slid them under my saucer, figuring I’d get up and go to the restroom. That would give me a chance to sneak a quick look at the men at the table behind me. Before I could stand up, a palm landed on my shoulder.
“Alex Sanders.” A woman stood next to me, her other hand held out for a handshake.
“Do I know you?” I instinctively reached for her hand, barely catching a final look at the two men as they exited through the front door.
“Suzy Mitchell, damn glad to meet you.”
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment . . .” I hopped off my stool and ran to the door, trying to catch a glimpse of the two men who’d been at the booth behind me. I made it to the window just in time to see a large black dually pickup truck fishtail out onto the main road.
“Mr. Sanders?” Suzy had followed me to the door, a friendly smile on her face.
“You didn’t happen to catch sight of those two men, did you?” I moved back toward the stool where I’d been sitting, stopping on the way to see if maybe the men had paid with a credit card and left a receipt sitting there.
“Sorry, I didn’t. Can I ask you a quick question though?” Her lips were bright orange, just a few shades different from her hair.
“Sure.” I had no idea how the woman knew my name or what I might be able to help her with, but my chance of getting more info on the two men was lost, so I managed a smile as I grabbed my jacket.
“I hear you’re doin’ some work out at the Phillips House?”
“That’s right.”
