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“You know what’s weird?” She asked.
“What’s that?”
She paused in her walk. “Being back here. The other times I’ve visited, I don’t think I had the chance to take it all in. Delta Heights looks the same, but different somehow.”
Lance smiled. “It hasn’t changed much.”
“You still love it here?”
He stared at her. “It is home, right?”
She bobbed her head. “Agreed.”
Once they walked through the front door of the diner, she spotted several fruits and meringue pies displayed in glass domes. Metal napkin holders sat on each table along with salt and pepper shakers and a bottle of ketchup. A long counter with stools spaced along it seated a few customers.
“Want a booth?” Chantelle asked.
Lance pointed to an empty one in the corner. “Sure. Haven’t eaten here in a while.”
She settled into the cushioned seat. “Why’s that? This was the spot back in high school.”
“The key word being high school.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked into a smile. “Have you brought Andrea here yet?”
“She’s never been to Delta Heights.”
Chantelle’s mouth dropped open. “Andrea hasn’t been to your hometown?”
“Is this off the record?”
She tilted her head to the side. “I’m not all business.”
“No, she hasn’t been here.”
Chantelle couldn’t help but wonder why? The woman he was pledging his life to didn’t know where he came from. If this was his home, why didn’t she want to share it with him? Chantelle didn’t want to pry, but leaned in closer. “So… her first time coming will be the wedding?”
“She’s not into small towns. She’s a city girl.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I live in Chicago.”
“But you know where your heart is.”
She swallowed. “I don’t understand why she hasn’t been here. She doesn’t come to see you?”
“I’m traveling anyway, so I fly out to see her when I can.” He picked up the laminated menu.
Chantelle did the same. She read the options for meatloaf, burgers and fries, grilled cheese, and patty melts. Cutlery clinked in the background along with the clatter of change hitting the tables. She inhaled fragrant coffee and meat grilling.
“What’ll it be?” The waitress asked, placing glasses of water on the table.
Chantelle lifted her chin, only to spot an old friend. “Mildred?”
“Chantelle Woods.” Mildred put her hands on her hips. “As I live and breathe, what are you doing back here so soon?” The corners of her eyes crinkled. Her ivory skin glowed and she pulled her brunette hair back into a messy bun.
“I’m here for a story,” she said.
“I hear you’re a famous reporter now.” Mildred’s sea-blue eyes twinkled.
