Page 6 of Calling Quarters

“No way. I'll take you to the best diner around. It's kind of a secret amongst us locals, but I think I can trust you not to tell.” She winked at me teasingly. “You'll be in a food coma for days.”

With that, she turned her back to me and gestured for me to follow. I hesitantly trailed behind her, and to my surprise, we walked the opposite way I'd just come from.

We traveled a few blocks south, into what appeared to be more of a residential area. The houses of Beacon Grove were more approximately matched with the age of the town than the square had been. Decaying, two and three-story brick homes littered the streets with varying colors and conditions, telling the stories of those that lived in them. It was obvious that some had been split up into apartments with staircases that led to each level wrapped around them.

That was also the case for the building Blaire stopped at. I looked around for a sign or any other indication that we were heading into a diner and not someone's basement or kitchen but fell short.

“Maisy Sanford isn't big on tourists,” she explained when I gave her a puzzled look. “She tries to keep her place under wraps. Only those who live here know about it.”

She opened a rotting side door and waved for me to go ahead. It led to stairs that went down into what appeared to be a basement and for a split second, I questioned Blaire's intentions.

Had I underestimated her? Was I being led into some sort of dangerous trap?

But then a burst of laughter broke out behind the door at the bottom of the stairs and my doubts faded away.

Once we got to the end of the staircase, Blaire reached ahead of me to open the second door and a room full of people appeared. They were chatting and laughing at separate tables as an older waitress ping-ponged between them.

“We caught the end of the lunch hour,” Blaire whispered, grabbing the last open table off to the side. “Most of them will be leaving in a few.”

I followed her lead and sat down, grabbing one of the menus off the end of the table.

“What did I tell you about visitors, Blaire?” the waitress appeared out of nowhere, stern eyes boring down into my new friend.

“I know, I know. But she isn't just a visitor. Her parents were born here, so that kind of makes her one of us, right?”

I shot Blaire a questionable glare. I never told her who my parents were, let alone where they were born. Surely, there was more than one Graves family in town for her to mix me up with. Why would she think she could make that statement so boldly?

When my eyes flicked back to the waitress, I realized her attention was zeroed in on me, and I swear the entire diner quieted down to hear our conversation.

“What's your name?”

That was met with my irritated scowl. I was tired of being asked that question, as if it meant anything to a group of people I'd never met before. After seeing Officer Kyle and Tabitha's reactions, I was hesitant to offer a real name to the nosey old woman. If she didn't want me to eat at her basement diner, I'd happily leave. There was no reason to cause a scene.

But Blaire piped up before I could offer my snarky response. “Her name is Storie Graves. Grammy says her parents were good people.”

The woman's facial expression shifted, as I was learning most people’s in this town did when hearing my name. She softened a bit, placing her wrinkled hand on my shoulder.

“I'm sorry about your loss. You just can't be sure who to trust around here anymore.”

I nodded hesitantly, realizing that was another common theme in Beacon Grove. No one trusted each other, though as an outsider, the town appeared to be a tight-knit community. I lost myself in thought, wondering who or what happened to have made these people so weary of each other, when Blaire kicked my foot under the table.

“Sorry, what?”

“What can I get you to start with?”

I placed my order and Blaire continued to talk my ear off as people around us slowly filtered out. With the diner less crowded, it was easier to take in each face as they passed. A table of four men stood to leave and I noticed the man from Aunt Ash's house a few years ago.

My heartbeat pounded into my ears, drowning out the clattering of the diner as my focus zeroed in on him.

He was the one who had set her paranoia into full swing. Nothing about our life together was the same after that day, and I'd always wondered what he could have said to send her onto the path that ultimately caused her untimely death.

He was the reason I drove all the way to Beacon Grove to find answers.

We locked eyes and he nodded at me, a smug smirk tugging the left side of his face as if he knew. He knew that I was here to investigate him. He knew he played a part in Aunt Ash's death. And he didn't seem to give a damn.

He was dressed in the same type of clothing as before, all black and professionally pressed. We continued to hold each other's stare as he walked through the small space, silently daring the other to speak.

Blaire noticed and followed my gaze. Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she cupped one side of her mouth with her hand. “That's Rayner. He's a real creep. He's basically the leader of the Movement.”

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