“Let’s try this one.” Leanne pulled the Lincoln Continental into the lot of a diner-motel hybrid. A dusty, sun-bleached place with flickering neon that spelled HOTEL—theEhanging on for dear life.
She parked next to a blue VW bus that looked promising. Stickers with peace signs and guitars were plastered across the back window. Nora spotted a pair of fuzzy neon blue dice dangling from the rearview mirror.
They got out, stretching from the long ride, and Nora watched her mom peer through the van’s window.
Leanne sighed. “I’m not a very good investigator,” she said, shielding her eyes from the glare. “I don’t know why I thought I could travel across the country and find my mother. Like one pile of blankets or rucksacks will scream Eleanor Bell.”
Nora reached out, resting a hand on her mom’s elbow.
“But, Mom, you did find her. Multiple times. You found her in California. You found her in Denver. We literally watched her sing onstage here in Atlanta. You did the thing.”
“Yes. And then she ran off again,” Leanne muttered, wiping herhands against her borrowed jeans. “And I know she saw me. It’s like she ran off on purpose.”
“Yeah, but we know where she’s going and that she’s safe,” Nora said, her voice gentle, anchoring them both. “Seattle’s next. Then Woodstock. She’s got a plan. And we’re following it.”
Nora, unexpectedly, felt like the grown-up. Like the one doling out Band-Aids and pep talks. The way her mom used to do when Nora had tripped on the sidewalk and skinned both knees. Or the time in the fifth grade when little Benny Simmons had pulled her journal from her backpack and read it out loud on the school bus—the journal with the hearts doodled around Sammy Morales’s name. Her mom had marched down to the school and given the principal such a firm yet polite earful that Benny never made eye contact with Nora again.
“You’re strong,” her mom had told her back then. “You write what you feel. And don’t let anyone shame you for it.”
And now, Nora found herself returning that strength.
“We’re going to find her again,” she said softly. “Everything’s going to be okay. Grandma is probably after that last-hurrah sort of thing.”
Leanne turned, and the worry lines softened around her eyes for just a beat.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” her mom said, her voice low, almost hoarse.
“I’m here for the long haul, or at least until the fall semester,” Nora said. “Now, let’s go see if this place serves fries or just good vibrations.”
Leanne paused mid-step in the parking lot, staring at her daughter. The wind whipped through Nora’s hair, strands dancing across her face, blinding her from her mother’s musing mien.
“What?” She swiped at the flyaways.
“Just admiring you.” Leanne tucked Nora’s hair behind her ear. “Admiring the woman you’ve become.”
“Wild, willful, and wayward?” Nora infused her tone with a bit ofsarcasm.
“I was thinking more wild-hearted, hopeful, and unfiltered, which isn’t bad.”
Nora grinned and leaned into her mother for a hug. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You’re my height now.” Leanne’s voice held a strange note of awe. “Let’s get some fries. Or pie?”
Nora tilted her head, a contemplative look on her face. She’d been the same height for a few years now. “I like pie.”
The diner was nicer inside than outside—checkerboard floor, red vinyl booths, and a jukebox that crackled with Lesley Gore’s “It’s My Party.” The scent of sugary desserts and fresh coffee clung to the air like a second skin.
They took seats at the counter, perched on stools that squeaked under their weight, and ordered two slices of blueberry pie and two coffees.
Nora emptied a cascade of sugar into her cup, then a glug of cream—trying coffee again, this time Joe-style. Her mother, ever the stoic, sipped hers black. She watched Nora doctor her coffee like it was a science experiment.
“I’m just trying to induce a diabetic coma.” Nora smirked, adding another spoonful.
Leanne lifted a brow but said nothing.
“Oh, come on, Mom. Give me the speech. ‘You’re going to rot your teeth out of your head.’”
Leanne laughed and wrinkled her nose. “Is that really how I sound?”
