Page 48 of Love Felt Like This

Beverly folds her arms across her chest and knocks her shoulder toward me. “Dad, this is Griffin.”

Beverly’s dad shoots his palm out. “Hi, Griffin. I’m Glenn Lark.”

I nod stiffly, shifting my weight to the side to take his palm while angling Ava away.

“And is this the sister we’ve all heard about?” Glenn asks with a beaming smile.

Sister?

I swallow, darting my eyes to Beverly. She nods with wide eyes, scratching bashfully behind her head.

“Yes,” I lie.

Sister. Got it.

“Well, you, miss, are gonna love it here,” Glenn says, poking a finger at Ava. Her face screws up again. She’s not amused by this new man, even though he radiates as much sunshine as his daughter. Maybe Ava isn’t a sunshine kinda girl, just like her dad. I’d hate that for her, though.

“You hungry?” Beverly asks Ava. Her shoulders shiver. “Want some pancakes? We can toss in some chocolate chips too.”

“Here, take my jacket,” I say, shifting to remove it, but Beverly shakes her head with a scoffing laugh.

“I’m fine. Does she like pancakes?” My offer is so easily dismissed, like even considering the idea of taking from someone else is silly.

“She’s never had pancakes,” I answer.

“For shame,” Beverly adds with an exaggerated gasp. She glances at Ava, as if expecting a giggle. She doesn’t receive one.

“Let’s get y’all inside,” Glenn says. “Come on in. It’s freezing out here.”

The moment the diner bell dings above our head, what looks like a heated conversation comes to a close. The old woman in the booth isn’t as fired up as she was through the window.

Beverly leads me past the onlookers. I hear an errant whisper, something like “Is that him?” Beverly ignores it, focusing instead on the booth with the old woman. I keep my baseball cap down, but I don’t think it matters much.

Close up, the older woman is shakier. Tinier. Like a raging Chihuahua with a shock of red hair. Beverly slides into the booth seat next to her. I set down Ava on the opposite side and let her toddle in before I scoot in after.

Beverly winds her hands together.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

Ava grabs a syrup bottle near the napkin holder, almost toppling it over. I take it and place it just out of reach.

“I’ve already had a talk with them,” the older woman says. “We won’t be saying a peep to anyone that you’re here.”

“Griffin? Griffin Harvey?” I look over, and the man in the fishing vest holds out his palm. “Name’s Eddie. Welcome to Elk Grove.”

The woman sighs. “Eddie, what did we just talk about?”

Ava reaches for the syrup again. I nudge it away for a second time. Bad call. Her face starts to scrunch. She’s gonna lose it. I stroke the tears from the last breakdown off her face and tuck hair behind her ear. “Hey, let’s get you some food, huh?”

Glenn strides over with a platter and a coffeepot. “Did I hear food? Coffee number two for Bev,” he says, topping off her mug. “And I brought a small stack for the girl.” He grins down at Ava. She’s starting to exhale quicker, holding tightly onto my jacket, squishing herself against the vinyl seat.

The platter is loaded with silver dollar pancakes. The steam smells like powdered sugar as it rises off the top.

“You want to try some pancakes?” I ask Ava. But that seems to be the world’s worst question because her hyperventilating turns to panic; then…the wails start. I hold her closer and stroke her back. “Hey, hey, hey. They’re a lot like biscuits. You love biscuits.”

Beverly leans across the table. “Hey, Ava. He’s right. They’re very fluffy and good, y’know. Tons of people love them.”

Ava isn’t having it.