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“It’s refreshing.” Her ponytail bounced and swung against her back. Her hair was the color of licorice. A stray piece fell against her cheek, the darkness of it a stark contrast to her fair skin. He fought the urge to tuck it behind her ear.
“You meet a lot of chatty people at the diner, I bet.”
She smiled at that. A small victory in his book.
“That’s different. I like chatting with folks who come into the diner. I want them to feel welcomed and at home there, happy to have a well-cooked meal.”
She’d never exactly chatted with him when he came to the diner, but he filed that away in his mind and focused on the fact that she was talking with him now.
He smiled at her then looked forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her glance his way but then quickly look ahead herself.
They finished their run without any more talking, ending at the spot in the park where they had begun.
While taking a moment to stretch and catch his breath, Chet noticed the park now had a group of moms out with their small children. Strollers were parked near the sandbox. A little girl squealed as she slid down the slide.
“That was a good run,” he said. “Not a bad way to start the day.”
Meg bent forward, stretching out the backs of her legs. “Yeah. It was.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.” He winked and turned, jogging away from the park and toward the fire station. In the reflection of the playground slide, he saw Meg watch him as he went. He couldn’t tell if her mouth was open because she was going to say something or because she was surprised he’d left without much chatting.
Either way, he considered the morning a win. She’d shown up and actually run with him. Day one of his plan couldn’t have gone better.
Chapter Eleven
The diner wasquiet. It was the afternoon between the lunch and dinner crowds so that wasn’t surprising. To Meg, however, it was annoying. It gave her that much more time to stew over how things had gone that morning with Chet. She had agreed to run first thing each day so she could get it over with and not have to think about it all day, and yet thinking about it all day was precisely what she’d been doing.
Not only had he surprised her by not talking for most of the run, he also hadn’t lingered at the end or invited her for coffee to try to extend his time with her. What rattled her the most aboutthatwas that she was rattled by it.
“You think any harder, I’m gonna start seeing smoke come out those ears.” Franklin’s gruff voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Meg sat at one of the stools in the kitchen not far from the cooking area. The new appliances gleamed in what wasn’t a massive space, but her dad had designed it for a cook to move around easily, doing the twenty things at once that needed to be done. Franklin took up the space without effort.
Meg smiled at him. He had a gruff demeanor most of the time, but anyone who knew him was aware of the gooey warm center that lay just beneath. He was six feet, two inches of pure heart. He had the stereotypical look of a fry cook in a diner, in Meg’s opinion. There were about thirty more pounds on his frame than was good for him, but his broad shoulders and musculature, along with the physical requirements of years inthe armed forces, helped him carry it well. His white apron was forever stained, and his bald head made him look older than his fifty-four years. He was a man who had experienced more life than a person should in that amount of time, and yet he never complained. He was happiest when cooking so Meg was happy to make sure the kitchen was always as he desired.
He wiped down the area around the cooktop with a damp rag. “I know you aren’t much of a talker, but if it helps to get things off your mind, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
That was true. One of the things people in Silver Bay loved to do at Meg’s Diner was sit at the counter and chat with Franklin while he cooked. Like a bartender, he listened more than talked and, every once in a while, gave encouragement or, if asked for, advice.
“It’s nothing,” she said.
He took a head of lettuce out of the large refrigerator, placed it on a cutting board, and began to chop.
“Based on that look on your face, it’s not nothing.”
“I must be losing my touch. I thought I was good at masking my feelings.”
He shook his head. “Not really. It’s not hard to see how much you miss your dad and brother.”
Franklin was one of the few who knew everything. Well, almost everything. He knew how much she missed her dad, and the accident that killed Myles wasn’t a secret. But people didn’t bring it up with her. Small town or not, she was grateful for that.
And yet, over the past couple years, she had softened toward Franklin. His listening ear, along with a rare ability to get her to talk without realizing it, made her see how much she longed for her dad. Their conversations had always been something she enjoyed.
“I do.” She fiddled with the pen that sat on the counter in front of her.
“I wasn’t up for much talking when I got out of the army. My Annabelle was patient with me, though. Let me open up slowly about what I saw, what I’d experienced. It’s good to have someone to talk to.”
“You miss her.”
