The Strawberry Hearts Diner(7)

“Buying what?” Vicky asked.

“Aha.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got your interest. Pick you up at seven. You live in the little white frame house down the lane from this diner, right? Wear something pretty and plan on being out past midnight.”

“Mr. Wolfe, I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know you.” Vicky pushed away from the bar stool. “Enjoy your coffee, and if you change your mind, just holler.”

“Okay, but I would have enjoyed taking a beautiful woman like you to dinner and chatting in a quieter atmosphere,” he said with wistfulness. “I’m a real estate entrepreneur, and I’d like to buy this section of land from you, the undeveloped property to the north, this café, and your house in a package deal. I’m prepared to offer you one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the whole parcel, and I will write a check for ten percent of that today if you will be off the land in thirty days,” he said. “You could think about that and go with me to dinner tonight to seal the deal. I’ll have my team draw up the contract and bring it with me.”

“And what makes you think I want to sell my house and café?”

“You probably didn’t until I mentioned that amount of money. I know property, Miz Rawlins, and what I just offered you is twenty percent above the fair market value of that land. You just give it some thought. Call me when you want to talk or go to dinner—either one.” He pulled out a business card and laid it on the table as he stood up without taking even one sip of his coffee.

“The answer won’t change in a week or in a year. We’re not interested in selling our land or our business,” Vicky said.

“We’ll see.” Carlton strutted across the floor with a wave over his shoulder. He passed Shane on the porch but didn’t even glance his way.

“Hey, did y’all know that m-man? I spoke to him and he didn’t even say a w-word. I bet the sweat from that fancy suit has m-messed up his hearin’.” Shane laughed at his own joke.

“He came to buy the diner, my house, and Nettie’s land,” Vicky said.

“Wh-what for?” Shane asked.

“Over a hundred thousand dollars,” Vicky answered.

“No, wh-what for as in wh-what’s he goin’ to do w-with it wh-when he gets it? Is he goin’ to start plantin’ strawberries?”

Vicky slapped the booth where Carlton had been sitting. “I didn’t even think to ask him that. It don’t matter, though. I’m not sellin’.”

“Phew!” Shane wiped his forehead with a laugh. “I’d sure miss this place if y’all sold it. W-wouldn’t never be the same without you and Nettie and Emily and—” He nodded toward Jancy. “And now Jancy.”

“And we’d miss seein’ all the folks around here.” Vicky clamped a hand on Shane’s shoulder as she passed him and went to wait on a couple who’d entered the café and were looking around to see where they should sit. “Jancy will take your order.”

“Just iced tea and a big order of fries, Jancy.” He raised his voice.

“Sweet?” Jancy asked.

“Yes, you are.” Shane grinned.

Jancy blushed, and Vicky smiled as she motioned for the couple to sit on her end of the diner and took their order.

“So you wantin’ to sell our little piece of heaven?” Vicky asked Nettie when she took the order to the kitchen rather than pinning it on the carousel.

“Last time someone came in here wantin’ to buy our place was the week before your mama passed away. Wasn’t interested then and time ain’t changed my mind,” Nettie said. “We’re goin’ to get hit hard here in a few minutes. Folks will be wantin’ to see the burned-up car and check out our new waitress. Your mama would tell us that fate brought her to us and that’s good luck.”

“I still hate summer,” Vicky said. “And it won’t even officially start for another month.”

“But we always get through it, don’t we?” Nettie winked.



Jancy turned around slowly in the middle of the bedroom. A four-poster bed took up a lot of space, though there was still room for a chest of drawers and a dresser with a big mirror above it, plus a dark-green velvet recliner in the corner. It even had a little table beside it and a lamp. She turned down the bed to find soft sheets and a fluffy blanket, all of which called out to her. But first she was going to have a real bath or a warm shower, whichever one was offered, because she had only had washups in gas station restrooms for a week.

She’d made forty dollars in tips that day. If the whole week was that good, she’d have enough to get her cell phone service back, and a week after that she could be on her way to see Minnette. Life was beginning to look up—at least a little bit.

She sighed as she set a small framed picture of her and her mother on the bedside table. It was the last one they’d had taken together. They’d been all dressed up for church on Sunday. Her father had griped about his job again all that hot morning. Her mother had held him off about moving that time until Jancy graduated, but it hadn’t been easy. He’d been drinking a lot more in those weeks up to the middle of May.

She’d felt so empty when they’d dumped her mother’s ashes from the crematorium’s wooden box. Her father had simply said, “She always wanted us to travel down this way so she could wade in the salt water. Well, now she’s happy.”