“I cleaned the windows, too,” Van told her sister.
“Nice.” Zoe looked around, her brows lifting. “But isn’t it all gonna get dirty again?”
“What do you mean?”
Zoe glanced at the chrome clock hanging over the back door. Van had put a battery in it earlier when she’d taken it down to polish it. “It’s almost dinner time,” Zoe pointed out. “And we’ll have to use the stove to cook it. Then it’s gonna get dirty.”
Over Van’s dead body. “We’ll go out to eat tonight,” Van said quickly. At least that’d give her a few more hours of a clean house. “Where do you want to go?”
“The diner?” Zoe suggested. “They have good milkshakes there.”
Van grinned. “I haven’t been to Murphy’s in ages. Are the eggs still bad?”
“The worst.”
“Okay then. The diner it is.” Van put away the last of the cleaning supplies, then washed her hands. At least she didn’t need to tidy herself up much for the diner. Just a quick shower and a change of clothes. “Mom?” she called out. “You want to come out for dinner?”
It took a moment for her mom to reply, “No. Just get me a burger or something. I’m too sleepy to go out.”
Van sighed. Compared to sorting out her mom, getting the house clean was easy. “Give me twenty,” she told Zoe. “Then we’ll head out.”
“Sounds good to me.” Zoe grinned. “I’ll be ready.”
“Are you sure you want to eat here?” Tanner asked his sister, holding the door open for her. The aroma of coffee and fried food hit him instantly.
“Of course. Murphy’s is a Hartson’s Creek institution. If you’re staying here for a while, you need to reacclimatize yourself.” Becca grinned at him, ducking under his arm and heading straight for her favorite booth. “And I won at cards last night fair and square. Winner picks the food, loser pays. It’s our rule, remember?”
Tanner slid into the tattered bench seat opposite Becca, his legs barely fitting beneath the peeling table. He was wearing a thin grey sweater, his hair freshly washed after his evening run, though he hadn?
?t bothered to shave.
This had been his favorite booth as a kid. His and Van’s. Murphy’s had been one of their favorite places to hide out, accompanied by a milkshake and fries, as they laughed like crazy at each others’ jokes.
Murphy’s Diner had been a local institution for as long as he could remember. With its shiny chrome décor and red faux leather seats, it was the center of Hartson Creek life. It overlooked the town square, complete with a painted white bandstand and colorful flower beds, the verdant grass dotted with benches where the townfolk loved to sit and talk.
Along with the bakery, Laura’s Dress shop, and Fairfax Realty, it faced the large white building opposite – The First Baptist Church of Hartson’s Creek, the other focal point of small town life.
He and Van had introduced Becca to the diner and their favorite booth when she was old enough to appreciate it. She’d been maybe nine or ten years old. He’d regretted it later, when she’d beg him every day to let her come with him to meet Van. But it was still her favorite place to sit. For some reason, that warmed him.
He looked down at the tattered bench seat. The stuffing was coming out at the corner, looking like fluffy white clouds against the scarlet seat. “I don’t think they’ve updated this place since I lived here.” To be fair, it wasn’t a big surprise. He would have been more shocked if they had updated.
Becca widened her hazel eyes, pretending to be affronted. “Stop your moaning, Tanner Hartson. I hope all that money and living in New York hasn’t changed you. There was a time when this was your favorite place.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Wasn’t bitching. Just observing.”
She leaned forward, grinning. “You think you’re too good for this place now that you’re rich?” she asked him. “Maybe I should tell Murphy you don’t like the décor.”
“You do that.”
“Ha. Look at you pretending you’re not scared of Murphy.” Becca shook her head. “Everybody’s scared of Murphy. Even Murphy.”
“I’m not scared of him,” a sweet voice said. Tanner turned to see Cora Jean Masters standing there, a pad in her hand. Like the décor, she’d been part of the diner for as long as he could remember.
“Hey, Cora,” he said, standing up to kiss her cheek. “I swear you keep getting better looking.”
“Now stop that.” She swatted his arm and bit down a smile. “What can I get you?”
Becca looked up from her menu. “I’ll start with a chocolate shake please. With extra whipped cream.”