Page 19 of The Snuggle Is Real

It feels like an unnecessary question to ask at this point. I give her a polite hello and try to catch Buddy’s attention. The coffee issue is becoming urgent.

"Marlene at the front desk is my cousin."

"She's not your cousin," Buddy says.

"She's my cousin in spirit." Lucy pats the stool beside her. "Heard y'all only got the full bed. Guessing you had a cozy night."

Several patrons swivel to look at us with renewed interest. A man is in the corner booth with his newspaper and a plate of biscuits and gravy, and he lowers the paper without even pretending not to listen.

"Morning, Malcolm," he says gravely. "You look peaked. I've seen livelier complexions at work."

"Thanks, Fred."

"Just an observation."

“He’s the funeral director,” Malcolm tells me.

I make a small choking sound. I put my hand to my chest.

“Can Emily get some coffee?” Malcolm asks.

I nod gratefully. Buddy slaps two mugs down in front of us and fills them with black coffee that looks thick enough to asphalt Whiskey Way.

"Do you have pumpkin spice creamer?" I ask, just to keep things lively.

Buddy stares at me. "This is a diner."

"Pumpkin pancakes?"

“Emily,” Malcolm says, with an edge of warning.

"Not till November,” Buddy says, shoving a glass of water at me.

"November? It's October. October is peak pumpkin."

"November," Buddy repeats, like it's scripture. "Apple fritters are fresh."

“I applaud the thought that has gone into this,” I tell him. “I’m Emily, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Buddy.” He points his spatula at Lucy. “Watch out for that one. She’ll steal anything that isn’t nailed down.”

“Borrow,” Lucy protests. She smiles at me. “I just take a thing or two here and there and put some sequins on it. The world needs more sparkle.”

“Amen,” I tell her, because I love her passion.

“Where is my mom?” Malcolm asks.

“Oh, she had a catering crisis about tonight,” Lucy says. “She told me to tell you she’ll text you when she’s finished.”

“I guess we’re free to do what we want then,” Malcolm says.

He sounds thrilled about it.

"Awesome. Then I'll have a slice of pumpkin pie," I say, pointing at the rotating dessert case, where a single pie sits among a sea of apple crumble and Dutch apple and caramel apple.

"For breakfast?"

"It has eggs in it. It's basically a quiche."