Page 16 of Making New Plans

I cleared my throat, staring somewhere near her ear. “Can we take a quick break? I forgot that I, uh, didn’t eat, so I’m going to go do that.”

“Sure, Hunter,” she said quietly. “I’ll see you back here in a bit.”

I nodded and charged out of the lodge. Again. I knew it’d be hard coming here, but my past had sent me into full retreat twice now. How long would it be before I found peace?

Chloe’s beautiful face surfaced in my mind. I shoved it right back out. Nope. There was no peace here, and the quicker I gained control over my emotions, the easier the next twenty-nine days would be. But for the first time in years, I wasn’t sure how.

6

Hunter

Steamrolling through town yet again in search of an escape, I saw a familiar, purple-lettered sign. Finally, a place that didn’t have a wrecking ball of anxiety chained to it. In fact, the familiar sign perked me up with one thought: chili.

Monty’s Diner sat on the corner of River Street and Lady Slipper Drive with its large windows pointed at the park in the square. I steadied my breathing before pushing the door open. The little bell rang, summoning a memory. Sal bringing me here for pancakes one morning because my parents had been having a fight loud enough to peel the ugly wallpaper. Sal had quietly conversed with Monty, and then the man had plopped down the largest stack of pancakes I’d ever seen in front of me. M&Ms, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and strawberries had adorned it, making my eyes bug out of my head.

“Don’t think you’re not gonna need my help with those,” Sal had warned.

And then we’d proceeded to eat every last one together.

Present me shook my head to clear it and slunk into a booth at the back of the diner. Avoiding eye contact wouldn’t last long in this town. Eventually people would overcome their Minnesota niceness and grill me on my business in town and what exactly was going on with the lodge. Hell, if they even knew the half of it, I’d probably be front-page news in the Tangled River Gazette.

Speaking of which, I swiped a copy of the paper from a stand on the table. If I hadn’t fled like a bat out of hell, I would’ve brought The Fellowship of the Ring. But I’d left it on my nightstand after staying up half the night to read it. And damn if that Owen wasn’t a genius. The book happened to be just what I needed to the point that I contemplated going back to retrieve it, but I didn’t want to give any of the other patrons reason to gossip. Well, gossip more, anyway.

I glanced around the diner, noting that not much had changed. I’d only been here a couple of times as a kid. Usually as some sort of treat for being good or because Mom hadn’t felt like cooking. Oddly enough, the memories weren’t bad, especially that one of Sal. Even the décor didn’t immediately give me a flight-or-flight reaction.

Sal had once told me that Monty used to be some kind of high-up executive type before realizing he loved to cook more than he loved to make money, so he opened up a diner here and splashed his loud personality all over it. Like mounted fish and whimsical fishing murals and photos of his expeditions. Delicious food photographs hung here and there, no doubt to help people stay hungry. An entire purple wall was dedicated to all things Prince. The purple also flowed into his love of the Vikings and their purple and yellow. The man could be the universal ambassador for the entire state of Minnesota.

A large figure in an apron abruptly cut off my perusal of the diner. I looked up to see Monty’s clean-shaven face smiling down at me.

“Hey, Hunter, how’s it goin’?”

I blinked. How the—

He winked a bright blue eye at me. “Never forget a face. Just made a fresh batch of chili if you’re interested.”

The snarky part of me wanted to order something else to prove him wrong, but I wanted that chili so damn badly.

“Yes, please. And some ice water as well.” I never ate Monty’s chili without a cold drink on hand.

“Sure thing. I’ll bring you a bowl and a glass.”

I braced myself, waiting for the inevitable questions, but Monty bustled off to bark orders in the kitchen. Strange. Usually, Monty’s was a gossip hub, helped along by the big, affable man himself. I hadn’t been in Monty’s Diner for over a decade, but some things could live through an apocalypse. And old biddies getting their eggs benedict with a side dish of gossip was one of them. Maybe my eating at such a weird time coincided with their break in the gossip hunt.

I perused the paper while waiting and became oddly engrossed. Stories like “The Historical Society Committee Meeting Comes to Blows—Hardly a Historical Event” and “Animals Make Better Pets Than Children—Come to the Furry Family Event This Weekend” had me inwardly guffawing at my table. I didn’t remember the paper being this darkly funny, but then again, I’d been a kid. The same name appeared in all the bylines and at the top of the masthead: John Smith. Well, that was the most made-up name I’d ever seen. Whoever he was, he had style.

I forgot about the paper when Monty arrived with a steaming bowl of chili and a glass of ice water. Barely remembering to thank him, I dug in and almost groaned in pleasure. Such spicy, meaty flavors layered with sharp, gooey cheese. I wanted to move my luggage to this bright purple vinyl booth and camp out.

Until I had company.

A familiar cane slid into the booth first, followed by Sal herself.

I begrudgingly set down my spoon to give her a cool look. “What are you doing here?”

If my look was cool, hers was downright frosty. “Eating.”

“I came here for peace and quiet.”

She stared pointedly around at the other loud patrons and the kitchen that was halfway open to the diner.

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