Page 8 of There’s Trouble Brewing

Emily had planned to crash at the hotel and order room service, but his offer sounded much better. “If you’re buying,” she said, grabbing her jacket.

Mark shook his head in mock defeat. “Guess I’m buying.”

They arrived at the diner a few minutes later. Emily noticed right away the friendly vibe that flowed through it. The place was lively with bits of conversation and laughter bouncing off the walls.

Mark motioned to a booth in the corner, and they slid into the vinyl seats. Neon lights buzzed above them, casting a colorful glow on the red-and-white tiles. The table had already seen a lot of action that night, the ketchup bottle sticky with fingerprints and the salt shaker nearly empty.

Emily gave him a tired smile as she leaned back with an audible sigh. “This place is great.”

“The menu’s pretty simple,” he warned, watching her. “But everything is great.”

“Perfect,” she nodded without picking up a menu. “The fewer choices, the better.”

The server, a cheerful girl in her late teens, came by and set down two waters. “The usual, Mark?” she asked, already jotting on her pad.

Mark nodded. “Same for her.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, more amused than annoyed. “You don’t even know what I like.”

“That’s part of the fun,” he told her.

Emily rolled her eyes, but the tension from earlier had finally lifted. As soon as the waitress left, she launched into a rapid-fire recap of her day, the words spilling out after holding them in for so long. “It was a disaster. They have no idea what they’re doing, and they keep trying to blame me. And that busybody. Birdie? She was something else.”

“Now that Birdie got that out of her system, she shouldn’t be a problem. And if anyone can whip the baristas into shape, it’s you,” Mark encouraged.

“I hope you’re right,” she told him just as their burgers arrived. Emily attacked hers with the urgency of a starving castaway. Mark watched, clearly entertained by the whole show.

Her gaze drifted to the counter, where a man sat alone, his eyes glued to their table. He looked out of place among the locals, his stiff posture and slicked-back hair a stark contrast to the casual scene. Emily tried to ignore it, but something about his presence was unsettling.

Mark followed her gaze, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Emily said, shrugging it off. “Just thought I recognized someone.”

He let it drop, and they went back to their meal. Try as she might, though, Emily’s eyes kept wandering back to the staring stranger.

She tried to focus on the conversation, on Mark’s easy laughter and the comfort of greasy diner food. But the man at the counter kept glancing their way, his attention persistent and unnerving. She’d thought leaving Hero, even for a couple of weeks, would give her the break she needed. Now, it felt like she couldn’t outrun anything.

Emily watched as the man at the counter stood up, tossed some cash on the table, and slipped out the door.Even though she knew it wasn’t anyone she knew, a sense of unease lingered.

Mark studied her with an unreadable look. “Why did that guy at the counter bother you so much?”

Emily gave a nonchalant shrug, her confidence slipping just a little. “It was nothing. I’m fine.” She picked up her glass and took a sip. She couldn’t quite meet Mark’s eyes. What was it she thought she’d find here? A new beginning? A brief escape? The past she left in Hero seemed to be right on her heels, even in a diner miles away.

Mark’s voice brought her back, his concern still evident. “You sure you’re okay?”

She put on a brave front, deflecting his questions with sarcasm and jokes. It was her best defense against feeling exposed. “Of course. Just trying to figure out if this is really the best meatloaf west of the Mississippi.” Her smile was forced, her laugh hollow.

Mark didn’t look convinced, but he let out his own chuckle. “Don’t let J hear you say that.”

Her phone buzzed and interrupted the moment. She glanced at the screen and froze. A single text message glared back at her. “You can’t hide forever, Em.”

The phone slipped from her hands and clattered onto the table. Emily stared at it, feeling the room close in on her. It was like the words had reached across the miles to find her.

Mark leaned forward, concern deepening. “What’s wrong?”

She scrambled to pick up the phone, not wanting him to see the panic in her reaction “Nothing. Just a surprise from back home,” she told him, knowing it was true in a sense.

Mark’s skepticism was evident, but he nodded slowly, not pressing her.

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