Page 75 of All Yours

“Tell me you have good news for me,” I answered.

“No news on the case,” he said. “Your parents want to meet.”

“In person?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them are in town? Together?”

“Seems that way.”

“And they contacted you?” My parents were setting up a meeting through my attorney.

“You don’t have to meet with them.”

“True. But maybe it’s time to ask them about some of the things in Sebastian’s book.”

I heard him grin. “I’ll set it up.”

My phone beeped with an incoming text message. It was from Jonah.

Can we talk?

I closed the message without responding.

The sky overcast with thick gray clouds gave the entire day a silvery hue of gloom as I walked toward the restaurant from my car. I entered the diner on the square a few minutes before noon. The air smelled of french fries and frying chicken. An aroma that I now found comforting while my mom would find it nauseating. It’d been a while since I been here, but the southern homestyle food was always good. My parents would hate it here. I wouldn’t sully Lou’s with the energy of whatever would happen here today. They weren’t here yet. I wouldn’t put it past my mom to glance around at the simple 1950s inspired diner and leave.

They entered a few minutes later. My mom’s eyes scanned the room, but her forehead didn’t crease. Her hair remained dyed a bright platinum blonde, and her lips appeared bigger than I remembered. The large gold belt buckle in the shape of the Chanel logo glowed from her waist. She spotted me and headed over. Dad, with his face set to a permanent frown, glowered at the empty booth seat across from me.

“Darling,” mom said in the fake voice used in greeting other Greenwich socialites in her circle. “It’s lovely to see you.”

Dad motioned to the booth seat for mom to slide in.

“What?” she asked, staring at the red vinyl seat like she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Up close, the results of multiple facial procedures were clear. The area surrounding her eyes gave the impression of an immovable plastic material.

“This is where we sit,” he said. “Slide in.”

She stared at the seat for a moment, then glanced at me. “How quaint,” she said with a tight smile.

“Here we go,” I muttered.

“Oh no. Don’t get me wrong,” she said, gingerly sliding across the seat. “It’s a lovely place for lunch. They even leave the menus in this little holder on the table. How convenient.”

“What was wrong with that place over by the water?” dad asked. “It had a view, at least.”

“Here we have the historic courthouse. And it’s more centrally located. I wasn’t sure where you guys were coming from.”

“Where’s the wine list?” Mom asked, turning the menu over.

“It’s a diner,” I said.

She stared at me, uncomprehending.

“They don’t have a liquor license.” I explained.

Her eyes widened. It was probably the only facial expression she could make. “No wonder they’re struggling.”

“What makes you say that?”

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