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Abby looked up to see Carol, their waitress, standing over them with her hands in the pockets of her apron. At first Abby was confused, but then she saw the blush creeping up her father’sneck.
“Got the best coffee this side of town,” her fathersaid.
It was a bald-faced lie — the coffee at the Desert Diner was bitter, burned, and stale all at the sametime.
Carol rested a hand on his shoulder. “Come for the coffee or come for the pie,” she said. “I’m just glad to see youagain."
Abby hid her smile. Carol the Waitress was flirting with herfather.
She looked more closely at the woman who had been waiting on them since they found the diner back in June. Carol had brassy red hair, her lips assertively outlined and filled in with hot pink lipstick. When she smiled, wrinkles fanned out around her bright blue eyes. Her figure was full but still pronounced, with a large bosom and pillowyhips.
No wonder her dad wassmitten.
“Shall I bring you both coffee while you look at the menu?” Carol asked. “Or do you want theusual?”
Abby smiled up at her, fighting the urge to full-on grin. “I’m fine with coffee and grilledcheese.”
Grilled cheese was Abby’s usual. Her father favored bacon cheeseburgers with onion rings instead of fries. If they came before noon, he asked Carol to have the cook throw on a fried egg as a nod tobreakfast.
“The usual sounds good to me,” Abby’s fathersaid.
Carol squeezed his shoulder. “You got it,hon.”
Carol walked away and Abby bit her lip as she pulled out the ledger, along with two pens she’d brought for her father’sbudget.
“Might as well go ahead and say it,” her fathersaid.
Abby looked up, trying to maintain an expression of innocence. “Saywhat?”
“I been comin’ here,” he admitted gruffly. “Without you, Imean.”
She shrugged. “It’s a free country, Dad. It’s a nice place, and it’s close tohome.”
“I been comin’ here to talk to Carol,” he said, his neck flushingagain.
Abby smiled. “Sounds like Carol doesn’t mind abit.”
“It’s a fool’s errand,” hemuttered.
Abby stopped shuffling everything around on the table. “Why’sthat?”
“Can’t see no woman while I’m getting sober,” he said. “Lou says ayear.”
Lou was her father’s sponsor, a wizened former blackjack dealer who had helped her dad get the job on theranch.
They both grew silent when Carol returned with their coffee. They waited while she made small talk and set the two cups on the table along with cream for her father and ketchup for the onion rings she’d be bringing with hisburger.
Abby waited until Carol was out of earshot to speak. “No harm in getting to know someone though. As friends, I mean.Right?”
“Guess not,” he said, pouring sugar into his coffee. “Just beingcareful.”
She reached across the table and rested her hand on his. “That’s good, Dad. Nothing is more important than your recovery, but you’re allowed to be a person, too. It’s okay to havefriends.”
He nodded and ducked his head as he poured cream into his cup. Their relationship had become friendly, but closeness was unchartedterritory.
She covered for their awkwardness by opening her ledger and pushing one of the pens toward him. She didn’t usually allow herself the luxury of thinking about the future. There were still too many questions, too muchuncertainty.
Would Jason come after Max? Would Jason come after her again? Would Max be so consumed with rage and revenge that his heart would harden? Were they capable of being normal? Of having a family and growing old and being like everyone else when for all intents and purposes, neither of them had ever been like anyoneelse?
