Page 78 of All Your Reasons Why

She grabs two plastic-covered menus from a stack by the cash register and leads us over to a booth. “Your special booth,” she cries out.

The booths have bright red vinyl seats and little coin-operated tabletop jukeboxes. I am utterly enchanted.

My eyes widen in surprise. I thought I knew Mason. I would never in a million years have associated him with this place. “You have a special booth?”

“Of course he does. It’s the booth of honor. You know he and his dad saved our business, right?”

“I did not know that. Mason, you’re a man of hidden depths.”

Mason’s cheeks actually redden. Is he blushing? He is.

He slides into his booth. “The house red for Rowan, and I’ll have a 7-Up,” he tells her.

“Not until I tell this young lady how wonderful you and your dad were to us.” She gives me a serious look. “My husband was injured a few years back, the hospital bills were killing us, and business slowed way down. Mason reached out to a friend of his, a marketing genius named Chase Lancaster, and paid for a marketing campaign that had customers stretching out the door. And his dad gave us a loan, totally revamped our kitchen, and didn’t even want us to pay him back.”

Mason’s face squinches in embarrassment.

“I’ll get those drinks,” she says.

I nod. “Thank you so much, Maria.”

She nods at me approvingly. “I like this one much better.” And she hurries off.

I look at him in confusion. “Better than...?”

He sighs. “Better than Lexi. I tried to bring her here. She kind of had a hissy fit. She was going on and on about cholesterol and how she had a runway show coming up, and... it was kind of embarrassing. We didn’t make it through the door. Maria overheard. So, she’s telling the truth. I haven’t bought anyone else here. I did try, but...”

Well, Lexi just dropped several notches in my esteem. No point in dwelling on the negative, though.

“I am going to use up all of my coins tonight,” I say gleefully, and I feed fifty cents into the adorable little jukebox and select an Elvis Presley song, “You Ain’t Nothing but a Hound Dog.”

“This place is great, right?” Mason is looking at me, and I can see how important it is to him that I agree. And I bob my head because yes, it is great.

Maria appears by the table with our drinks. She sets them down in front of us.

“So how long have you known Mason and his dad?” I ask her.

“Oh, since he was a little boy. His dad used to bring him here all the time.”

Wow. His richer-than-King-Midas dad bought him here?

“He was so adorable back then.” she adds.

“Cheeseburger, medium rare, large fries,” he says quickly. “What would you like, Rowan? The same?”

Oh, I sense a story there. Or maybe many stories.

“Do tell.” I slide over. “Sit down for a moment. I want to hear all about what he was like when he was a kid.”

Mason sends me a murderous look. “Rowan would like a slice of coconut pie.”

I kick him under the table. “Rowan would not.”

Maria sits down next to me and looks at us with delight. “She’s perfect for you,” she glows. Then she smiles at me, her face wreathed in wrinkles, and I want her to grandma-adopt me. “Well, when he was little, he was really scared of spiders. One of them ran across his table one time, and he screamed and ran outside, and his dad had to run and get him. His dad killed the spider for him.”

Mason’s cheeks are a delightful shade of crimson.

“Rowan will definitely have what I’m having,” he tells Maria. “We’re pretty hungry, actually.”

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