The words dropped like a stone in a still pond.
She set her mug on its saucer, prepared for Nora to ask for an explanation. But just when she was about to no doubt ask, the waitress returned, breaking the chain of conversation. Leanne ordered a whole stack of pancakes with extra syrup and a side of bacon, extra crispy.
Nora stared at her with shock. Leanne had never ordered anything that indulgent, and she was certain her daughter had a thousand questions running through her mind. For breakfast, it was always grapefruit, cottage cheese, and black coffee. That was the Leanne Miller everyone knew.
But after the emotional whiplash of the day—the riot, the sheer disbelief of learning her mother was now a stage-singing sensation—Leanne figured she’d earned a stack of sugary pancakes, probably with butter on top and a side of unapologetic, crispy deliciousness. And maybe she’d even add some sugar to the terrible coffee to wash it all down.
Add this to the many things she’d changed up on the trip. Was it any wonder that Nora was confused?
“You knew she could sing like that? I’ve heard her sing lullabies, but to really sing…” Nora asked, her tone caught somewhere between awe and accusation.
Leanne looked down into her coffee for a minute then raised her eyes to meet her daughter’s. “When I was younger, she sang all the time. While making eggs or hanging laundry on the line. Even when she washed my hair in the kitchen sink. I don’t think our house was ever quiet. At the very least she was humming along in the background.”
She paused, swallowing against the lump that had crept into her throat. “But as I got older, she got quieter. The singing became something I heard only through closed doors. Like the older I got, the more her voice disappeared.” Leanne exhaled, long and slow, a sigh laced with something that sounded and felt suspiciously like guilt. Had she said something once, years ago? Rolled her eyes? Laughed at the wrong time?
“Well,” Joe said, “she has definitely found her voice again. She blew the roof off with Shep Moon tonight. Honestly? Wouldn’t be surprised if a record label calls her.”
“And you’re making her into your muse for the summer?” Nora’seyes narrowed slightly in that perceptive, protective way that reminded Leanne how brilliant her daughter really was.
Joe lifted his hands like he was under oath. “I am. But this”—he motioned between them—“is off the record. Just here as a friend.”
Leanne nodded slowly. “Thank you,” she said genuinely. How strange to be grateful to a boy she didn’t know for looking after her mother—and her daughter—but she was.
She scanned the diner. The Formica counters gleamed under the buzzing fluorescents. Behind the pie case, nestled next to a cigarette vending machine, was exactly what she hoped for.
“I’m going to check if that pay phone works,” she said, sliding off her stool. “I need to call your dad and let him know the latest installment in this rock-and-roll soap opera. See if maybe through his marketing connections he can find a way for us to contact Shep Moon’s manager.”
“That’s a great idea,” Nora said.
“If he can’t, I might be able to see if can find out through the newspaper I’m interning for,” Joe offered.
“Thank you.”
Nora smiled at Joe, and Leanne caught it—a glimmer in her daughter’s expression at Joe’s desire to help.
Leanne slipped off her stool and made her way toward the pay phone. The linoleum floor squeaked beneath her sensible heels. She dropped in the required coins, which clinked down with a hollow finality, and dialed home.
The phone rang. And rang.
No answer.
Again.
Leanne let the receiver dangle briefly in her hand, then returned it to its cradle with a soft click. She stared at the rotary dial, hesitating, her finger poised to spin the operator for Dean’s office line. But theimage of that honey-voiced secretary flickered through her mind, and the knot it formed in her stomach was enough to make her retract her hand.
Not tonight.
Through the smudged glass, she watched Nora at the counter, laughing at something Joe had said. The two of them were dipping toast into their yolks. Beside them, a glorious stack of pancakes awaited her, the syrup glistening like amber in the diner lights.
Leanne took a breath and straightened her shoulders. She was going to devour the hell out of those pancakes.
And then?
She was going to find her mother.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I hope your mom’s okay.” Joe chomped down on his toast like it owed him money. The butter glistened on the corner of his mouth, and for a split second, Nora considered telling him, but then decided to let him wear it. There was something charming about a boy who could be both confident and unaware.
