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One week ago, a drunk college kid flying down the mountain switchbacks like some kind of wannabe NASCAR driver lost control on a near ninety-degree turn and careened head-on into her parents’ Honda Accord. All three lives were lost instantly. Toni wasn’t heartless, she felt sadness over her parents’ passing, but their relationship was so strained, she felt somewhat dissociated from true grief. As though it was the death of some distant relative, rather than the people who’d created her. She’d mourned the loss of her family years ago when they broke contact.
They’d been the people who were supposed to love and support her, no matter what.
No matter how bad she rebelled.
Or screwed up.
But they hadn’t. They’d turned their backs on her when she’d needed them most. Old hurts she barely visited any longer, but now she’d inherited everything they owned including a hopping business. And all the damage from the past had been a constant in her mind since she received the call from the police.
“Toni? You still there?”
With a shake of her head, she pushed the old ghosts to the background for the time being. Later, they’d probably creep back up on her, as they had been since she returned to her hometown, but she didn’t want any of her pain to bleed into the conversation with her uncle. He’d be on a plane in a heartbeat, showing up to battle her demons. “Sorry, I’m here. What did you say?”
He chuckled in her ear. “I asked how things were going at the diner?” Fifteen years her mother’s junior, Mark was closer in age to Toni than he’d been to his sister. Toni had worshiped him like a beloved older brother her entire life. A life that she pretty much owed to him and the fact that he loved her just as much.
“We re-open tomorrow.” She huffed. “It’s only been closed seven days for the funeral and everything, and you’d think the apocalypse was upon this town.”
“People like their pancakes.”
Even though he couldn’t see her, she shrugged. “I guess they do.”
“Say what you want about your parents, but they knew how to run a business and they knew how to hire a damn good chef.”
“That they did.” She glanced around the pristine diner once again. It was a fifties style diner with a long-curved counter running the entire length of the restaurant. The fifteen bolted down chrome stools with teal seats were always occupied as were most of the teal and coral booths against the windows. A black and white checkerboard floor covered the entire establishment. As a kid, she used to start at the black square that butted up against the entrance and see how far she could jump. Whenever Mark visited, he challenged her to a contest, seeing who could hop the farthest. They’d measure based on how many squares they leapt over.
Toni heaved a heavy sigh. “Can I ask you something that might make you want to commit me?”
“Sure, kid. You know you can ask me anything.”
“Am I crazy to feel a little bit like I don’t want to sell this place?” She chuckled. “You know what, don’t answer that. The answer is yes. I’m crazy.”
The silence that greeted her seemed to last forever. “Uncle Mark? You still there?”
“I don’t think it’s crazy, sweetie,” he finally said. “In fact, I always thought you’d do an amazing job at running the joint. I still think that.”
Toni couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. “Me? Run this place. Now who’s crazy? First off, I know nothing about running a business and, more importantly, I haven’t stepped foot in this place in over six years. I don’t have a clue how things are run anymore. Just because I wanted to own it as a child, doesn’t mean I could actually do it now.”
“Oh, please, that’s such bullshit.”
Toni pictured him waving his hand as he dismissed her statement. No one talked with their hands more than Mark did, something he had to work to curb when arguing cases in a courtroom. “You grew up in that place. Worked there since you were old enough to toddle a menu over to a table. It would come back to you in the blink of an eye.”
“Working the counter and waiting tables aren’t exactly the same as overseeing the business. Besides, Mark, I’m a guidance counselor in Chicago, remember? I have responsibilities. Remember Christopher? My boyfriend?”
“Ugh, as if I could forget that asshat.” Mark had been near hostile toward her boyfriend, Chris, ever since Chris stood her up for a date. It had been a miscommunication, and she’d never held it against him, but Mark had a long memory and wasn’t big on second chances. For anyone besides her, anyway.
Despite the insult to her boyfriend, Toni laughed. Her uncle wasn’t one to censor himself. “Nice, Uncle Mark. Real sweet.”
