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“I have no idea, but it doesn’t rain all the time.”
Fox gestured out of the window. “Well, it sure snows a lot,” he said.
“It snows in Columbus.”
“Yeah, like twenty-eight-point-two inches a year, not twenty-point-two in a freaking day,” Fox mumbled.
“And you know that how?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” he said and ignored my question.
I could tell him about the summers here—the sunshine, the horses, the freedom in green fields—but waxing lyrical would earn me another eye roll. He wandered off to the back of the diner, into the gloom, and I rummaged in the box for something else, a letter maybe, or something that meant it had been Aunt Lily who’d written my name on the box. I found nothing, so it must have been by the person who’d cleared up the leaflets.
But how would they have known my name?
Whatever—I’d go through it all later, and I shoved the leaflets back into the box. I didn’t want to think about the old festival because even though my recollections of this town in summer and that once in spring, were short and blurred, they were overshadowed by the loud arguments of my parents whenever we visited. Just like Fox had witnessed me and Briggs arguing.
The guilt was real.
I shut the box and tucked it under a booth. Then, I did a slow three-sixty. I had a lot to think about, like stocking the food; what was I going to even cook? Would the town be ready for me and my take on diner food? Would they come here out of curiosity, then stay away because I fucked up? Was the town big enough to even support a diner?
I had my head in a cupboard when the door slammed open—wide open—a tall man in the doorway, glowering at me. Something about him made me straighten and go on the defensive. What the hell?
“Morning, how can I help?” I forced a smile.
“Pastor McKenna,” he replied, which I assume was his way of introducing himself.
“Noah. Noah Bennett.”
“Hmm, I know,” he said and scanned the diner before landing on the window. “I wanted to talk to you about that.” He pointed at the rainbow flag.
I nodded, my smile faltering. “What about it?”
He cleared his throat, adopting a tone that was probably meant to sound friendly, but came off as condescending. “Well, I assumed you’d be taking that down. Lily had her… views, but she’s gone now.” He made the sign of the cross. “God rest her soul.” He nodded as if he’d bestowed something great on her memory, and then, the sneer returned. “Anyway, young man, Whisper Ridge isn’t really that kind of town.”
I felt a surge of irritation at his words. The insinuation was clear—he was expecting me to conform to his narrow view of what was acceptable.
I wanted to snap at him, to tell him right then and there that I was gay, but I held back. Instead, I leaned into sarcasm. “Oh, I see. Thanks for the heads-up,Pastor. I’ll keep the town’s… preferences in mind.”
He nodded, satisfied, and after a few more of what I assumed he thought were pleasantries—something about the deterioration of morals or something like that—he left, and I locked the door.
It made me laugh when he stopped and stared at the flag and sneered, then hid the sneer when a man in a bulky sheriff’s coat—taller and wider, but slimmer than Pastor McKenna—sauntered past and stopped at my door. McKenna hurried away, and when the sheriff tried the handle of the diner, I let him in.
He shut the door behind him, stamping off the snow. “Neil Wyndham,” he said, extending his hand, which I shook. “Sheriff.”
“Noah Bennett,” I replied and gestured to my side. “My son, Fox.”
“Sir,” Fox said with respect, and they shook hands.
“Saw Pastor McKenna was visiting; thought I’d check in.”
“Thank you.”
Neil glanced around, but it wasn’t with a calculated gleam, or a sneer, but genuine interest. “Whisper Ridge is a friendly town,” he said. “Shame about those who preach love, but don’t show it.” He nodded then, as if we’d had a huge debate about something important, then handed me a card. “Had some trouble in here with vandals, kids mostly, but my office is right behind you; call me if you need anything, or just visit.”
“Thank you.”
“Good to see the diner opening up again.” Then, he nodded and left, all tall, dark, and mysterious, and it felt as if he was giving me a silent vote of support where McKenna was concerned.
