The place smells like butter and espresso, like memories and reinvention.
You can order a root beer float served in a frosted glass with a stainless-steel straw—or you can sip a chilled glass of skin-contact natural orange wine while waiting for your avocado toast with a five-minute egg.
Our menu bridges the gap between classic and cutting-edge: buffalo sliders with chipotle aioli, mac ‘n’ cheese spiked with jalapeño and smoked gouda, peach pie with a chèvre crust…
It’s a diner for everyone: the trucker, the TikTok traveler, the retiree with his folded paper, the local teen whose only goal is to eat and get to the next round ofDiabloor whatever the hell else they’re playing these days.
“Did you hear?” Paula charges in, and I see Georgia roll her eyes.
“Yes, Paula, I have.”
Kyle gave me a heads-up but no explanation.
“It’s so wrong,” Melody, who is a step behind Paula, whines.
Georgia scoffs. “Paula, Melody, don’t you have anythin’ else to do but hang here at eleven in the morning?”
“I work here,” Paula replies haughtily.
“I’m helping Paula,” Melody chirps. “Since I’m between jobs.”
Melody is always between jobs.
According to my parents, Paula and Melody are a bad influence on one another—neither of them has a job, not really. Melody still lives with her parents, who have been trying to get her to live her own life. When they get strict, she gets a job in retail for a minute. Then she’s let go, usually because she doesn’t show up to work.
No one will hire Melody in Silverton, so now, when she needs a job, she has to leave our small town.
I thought how different Faith was from them. How she works so hard while these two swan around, thinking they’re all that. They are moochers.
At least they aren’t thieves!
During the post-lunch lull, I head to the station, looking for answers.
“What the fuck, Kyle?” I demand when I get to his desk.
He avoids my eyes and just mumbles something.
“Why the hell would you let her go? She stole…I mean…where the fuck is my money?”
Kyle had been cocky as hell after the arrest.
“Don’t worry about it, bro, gonna get your money. She’s this close to spillin’ it.”
“Two nights in jail and you know she’s gonna tell us everythin’.”
Sheriff Lorraine Zada steps out of her office. She’s in her late forties, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark brown skin and a gaze that could shatter glass. Especially now because she looks pissed off.
“Cain Ripley, you harassing my deputies?”
She doesn’t smile much but knows how to arch a perfectly curved eyebrow to silently say,you’re fucked.
I’ve known Lorraine for a long time—and she’s known me for just as long. That’s the nature of small towns.
“Lo, just need to know what’s going on here,” I growl.
“In my office.Now.”
Kyle is now looking at his feet so hard I’m worried he’s going to dig a hole and disappear…andprobablywants to.
