Page 11 of Solstice

“Uh, I’m going to move to a booth. Do you have a break coming up?”

“No.”

“You do now. Join me.”

“But—”

“Mort, cover the front,” he called. “I need your waitress for five minutes. It’s official.”

Mort emerged from the kitchen, grouchy as always. She was old, tough and mean, dressed in a purple warm-up suit, with her silver hair in a long braid down her back.

“Five minutes,” she snapped. “And it’s coming out of your lunch hour, Dori.”

Dori sent Jason a scowl that faltered as soon as he clutched her hand in his and drew her around the counter. He hadn’t touched her in ten years, and the impact of it now was damn near stunning. That warm hand, so strong, closed around hers, holding it. She remembered that hand cupping her cheek, cradling her head while his mouth made love to hers.

What was wrong with her?

She was lonely, she realized. She’d been painfully lonely since coming back here—no, no, that wasn’t quite right. She’d been lonely in New York, too.

She let him lead her across the diner, then slid into a booth across from him. He released her hand and she managed not to weep for the loss. “What?” she asked.

“Kemp. I had a visit from him this morning, and I was afraid it had something to do with you. Now I’m convinced of it.”

She lifted her brows. “Go on.”

“I know I told you we’re not all ignorant in this town—and that’s still true. We’re not all ignorant. But that doesn’t mean we’re all enlightened, either. There are still a few narrowminded idiots around, and I’m afraid Kemp is one of them.”

“Jason, what on earth are you talking about?”

He sighed. “Kemp was poring over town statutes this morning. Old ones. Turns out there’s still a law on the books making ‘fortune telling’ illegal.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He pursed his lips, shook his head slowly. “Nope, it’s there. He showed it to me, asked me if it was enforceable.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Is it?”

“It’s easily worked around, Dori. You’re going to have to post a disclaimer in plain view on your table, stating that the readings are for entertainment only. A game, not a real prediction. You do that and his hands are tied.”

She blinked twice. “So I’m supposed to put up a sign saying I’m a fraud?”

He shrugged. “Only if you’re charging for the readings. You could do them free....”

“That would defeat the whole purpose. I need to pad my income a little.” She pursed her lips and sighed. “So, I put up a sign that says I’m a fake. Well, what the hell, at this point I’m not sure it would be all that inaccurate, anyway.” She pressed her palms to the table and stood up.

Jason stopped her, covering her hands with his. They were firm and strong, and they sent all those old feelings spiraling up her arms and into the center of her chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

She looked down at his hands on hers. He didn’t move them. Experimentally, she turned hers over, palms up against his palms now. His eyes shot to hers, but he didn’t take his hands away. The intimacy of his palms on hers almost brought tears to her eyes. “I don’t know anymore,” she told him.

“Sit back down, Dori,” he said. His voice was rough, as if he needed to clear his throat.

“I have to work—”

“Not for another two minutes. Sit.” He closed his hands on hers, squeezed.

Sighing, she sat down, because when he squeezed her hands, her knees went weak.

Still holding her hands, he said, “After we talked last night, I did a little...snooping.”

---