Don't Let Go(3)

I licked my lips. “He knows. He always gets a little extra asinine right after New Year’s.” I looked away and reached behind the counter for my not-red purse. “Maybe I’ll dump my food on his head or something.”
“Oh, if you feel the urge, text me first,” she said. “I’ll run over there for that.”
I laughed and shook off an involuntary shiver at the same time. Ruthie narrowed her eyes at me.
“What else?”
“What do you mean?” I knew what she meant. Ruthie could read me like a damn psychic. She knew me too well.
“Something else is going on.” Her dark eyes narrowed to slits in her pale face. “You look all twitchy.”
I scoffed. “I’m not twitchy.”
“You’re twitchy.”
“Snowflakes,” I said.
She shook her head. “This isn’t a snowflake twitch. I know the snowflake twitch.”
I blew out a breath and glared at her, not that it had one iota of effect on her. Ruthie was impervious to my attempts at badassery.
“Whatever,” I said, looking away. “Just had a bad night.”
“Did you have sushi again?” Ruthie asked.
I chuckled as I ran a hand through my hair, holding it back. “No,” I said, glancing toward where Becca had disappeared. “I just—I had a hell of a time falling asleep, and then when I did—I dreamed about Noah.” Her eyes widened just a little, then she crossed her arms as she set a smile right back on her face that made me laugh to myself. “Nice cover, Ruthie, don’t play poker.”
She ignored my snarky remark. “So, like, ‘Hey, look at me, I’m Noah, I’m an * just walking by’ kind of dream, or like—dream?” she said.
I picked up my pen, dropped it again, and squatted to grab on to it with both hands. “Not that kind of dream,” I said, mimicking her drama voice. “It was just one of those—” My face suddenly felt itchy and I rubbed at it. “It was probably just because it’s coming up. My brain trying to make it harder than it already is.”
I pasted a smile on as Becca strolled up like a queen.
“What?” she said.
I shook my head. “Ready now?”
“Yeah, I’m hungry, let’s go,” Bec said.
I sighed. “Oh, yes, let’s.”
“Don’t beat up Johnny Mack!” Ruthie called out, smiling back at Mrs. Chatalain and grabbing some mailers I needed to address and send out.
Bec’s new hair swung in front of me as we walked outside in the breeze. To her credit, she could pull it off. To her detriment, I saw her dad’s truck parked outside the diner and knew instinctively there would be drama.
I was actually a little intrigued that Hayden would be there, since Johnny Mack Ryan wasn’t on his favorite list either and I knew he wouldn’t go to his diner on purpose. The old man’s hatred for me spewed over onto everything, and my marrying Hayden three years after Johnny Mack’s son joined the Navy and swore never to return—well, let’s just say that expanded the toxicity to him by association.
To my daughter, too, but that had different roots.
The aroma reached me before we ever opened the thick wooden door and my mouth was watering by the time we made it two steps in. I wished the smells came over to my side of the wall as often as the phantom music came to his.
The clock tower in the old courthouse across the street vibrated the tile under my feet with its announcement. The diner was still only half full, it only being eleven. The tide of office workers from the courthouse wouldn’t hit till noon, and the contractors perpetually working construction down at the river would roll in around a quarter to one. Then it all started up again for dinnertime at five. Johnny Mack did a booming business, in spite of his sour disposition. With his daughter, Linny, at his side keeping customers happy and laughing and spending money on his amazing dishes, people tended to overlook the snarls and sneers and griping from the chef.
Well, people except me. I had a little more trouble blowing him off. Maybe because his vitriol toward me wasn’t just the snark of an old man. Because he used to love me like a daughter. Because it was personal.
Linny winked at us as we walked past the counter and Becca patted the surface loudly as she passed. “Hey, Mr. Ryan,” she called out.
I saw him shake his head, not even looking up from the food he was preparing as he grumbled something to himself.
“Got shrimp today?” she continued, and I had to smile in spite of myself. She didn’t care that he didn’t like her. She didn’t even know why. She just enjoyed the hell out of goading him.
“Have a seat or move on,” he said, his gravelly voice monotone and lacking the bite it usually had. “Mind your manners.”
“Oh, her manners are just fine,” Linny tossed back over her shoulder at him. “She just knows ornery when she sees it.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes at me knowingly. “Did you have a call-in, hon?”
That would have been a grand idea. “No, we’re—” I gestured toward some empty tables. “Sitting.” I was most definitely not interested in landing at the counter and getting scowled at. I looked for one by the windows but those were all occupied.
I saw Hayden at one, head bent over a stack of paper with a pretty woman in a suit. A working lunch. Or maybe the prelude to something else? He didn’t see us, so I didn’t do any jumping up and down to call attention.
“This is good,” Becca said, picking a four-seater and dumping her backpack in an extra chair.