Page 5 of Monster Diner

“You’re doing a great job,” Gertrude said.

Victor scowled at her. She wasn’t the type to give praise. “You’re being too nice.”

“I can compliment you, can’t I?” She sniffed.

“I suppose.” He went around to the kitchen to start her order, tossing a few sausages on the flat top and heating up the instant oatmeal. It was a strange combination, but he’d never asked her why she insisted on getting it daily.

“Frank’s girl is coming back? Little Lizzy?” Gertrude asked from the other side of the service window.

“Oh, you were buttering me up for gossip, is that what it was?”

“Bah,” she replied.

Victor laughed as he peered at her through the window. “Yeah, she should be here today, coming back to settle the estate.”

“It’ll be good to see her,” she replied. “I remember her running around here as a kid, then there was that summer she worked here. Wasn’t that the year you started hanging around too?”

Victor ignored her teasing and went back to the flat top. The old bat was too observant for her own good. He’d never admit it, but he had started hanging around Frank’s Diner because of Lizzy. He’d been hopelessly in love with her back in high school, though he never admitted it. She saw him as a friend, as she’d told him. With her, he felt like himself—no pretending, no need to be perfect, flawless Victor. He’d wanted desperately to tell her how he felt, but feared ruining the one easy relationship he had. Then she’d moved away before he’d gotten the courage. They’d attempted to keep in touch, but Victor got kicked out by his creator and they started to drift. He’d mostly forgotten about his childhood feelings. Then Frank had died, and he realized he’d be the one to tell her, and maybe even see her again. And then he saw her name on the will, and it all brought those old feelings surging back to the surface on a wave of nostalgia. He was excited to see her, but he was over her. He’d been a kid, and he was forty-two now. What he’d felt was nothing but a teenage infatuation, right?

3

LIZZY

Lizzy had been in survival mode when she packed up her belongings and left for Pumpkin Hollow. She’d driven straight there and hadn’t stopped to look at a calendar.

The road turned winding, and the trees lining it were crimson and ochre. A gentle breeze picked up fallen leaves, and they danced on the wind. Seeing that, she felt a fluttering of nostalgia in her empty chest. It must be nearly Halloween, one of the most festive times of the year in Pumpkin Hollow. On Halloween, there was The Pumpkin Festival that she and her family used to attend. Frank Jr. was never one for big shows of emotion, but he loved Halloween. He’d decorate the house with those cheap plastic spiderwebs, fake skeletons, and gravestones and put out heaps of candy for trick-or-treaters. She had a vivid memory of holding onto Frank’s hand, swinging between him and her mom, as they strolled through the fairgrounds before stopping at the diner’s booth, where they sold funnel cakes and apples dipped in thick gooey layers of caramel and bright purple and green sprinkles. Just thinking of it made a lump rise in her throat.

Over the drive back to Pumpkin Hollow, she’d had time to think and cry. For the first time in a long time, she was the one in the driver’s seat. Er—literally. Up until now, her entire life had been dictated by the wants of others. Her mom, her boyfriends, her bosses. And now her father was dictating her next move from beyond the grave. She couldn’t keep repeating this pattern over and over. It was time she called the shots. She’d take this opportunity to figure out what direction her life was going to take. On her terms.

She turned down the main drag of the city, and it was exactly as she remembered—a line of cozy shops nestled all together, painted in bright colors. She saw businesses and landmarks she remembered—the bed-and-breakfast, the churchyard filled with rows of old tombstones, the post office, the bakery, the apothecary, and the local café. There was a new bookstore in town that piqued her interest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d read a book. There hadn’t been time. Maybe she’d pop in and buy one of those new romantasy novels she kept hearing about. Pumpkin Hollow was the quintessential small town. A blond with a short bob glided past on a broom, a mail satchel slung across her body. And Lizzy did a double take. It’d been so long since she’d lived in the magic world, she’d forgotten the casual displays of power.

Pumpkin Hollow was a regular small New England town with one big exception. Centuries ago, a coven of witches had settled in what had then been a remote village. They’d cast spells to keep humans out. Over the years, it’d begun to attract other paranormals. Shifters, vampires, zombies, and cryptids of all types made their home here.

No one had to hide who they were in this town. They could just be. Something that was wound tight in her chest loosened at the thought. She’d been living stealthily in the mundane world for years. Bouncing from city to city. It’d be nice to not have to hide for a while.

At the end of the street was Frank’s Diner. The building’s paint was faded, the red trim was cracked, and the teal accents had faded to a baby-blue. The glass in the windows had clouded over with age. But other than those things, it was exactly as she remembered. She pulled into one of the empty parking spots in front of the diner, rather than into the driveway of her childhood home, which was behind the diner. She wasn’t quite ready to face that task, which would feel like a specter of her past, yet. She’d decided on the drive over to sell both the house and the diner. This place was her father’s dream, not hers. If she were going to live for herself, she couldn’t live in the past.

While she’d been packing her things and preparing to come stay in Pumpkin Hollow, she’d been coordinating with Victor, and they’d planned to meet at the diner. It felt like neutral territory, and she wouldn’t have to discuss her father’s will amongst his worldly possessions. There’d be time later to literally unpack all that trauma.

She hadn’t asked, but she assumed Victor was some sort of lawyer. He had been student body president and talked frequently about going to Yale or some other Ivy League after high school. She had no idea how he’d become friends with Frank Jr. But she supposed she could ask him. Maybe he’d have advice for her on how to best unload this property. Were there people in the market for run-down diners in mysterious, remote magic towns?

She shook her head. A problem for later. She pulled down her visor and tucked a strand of her white fringe out of her face. Her red heart-shaped glasses were foggy, and she took them off before wiping them with a micro towel she kept in her glove box. Then she checked her reflection one final time and reapplied her lipstick. Vanity made her want to look her best when seeing an old friend.

She was great; everything would be fine. It was business. Victor wouldn’t care if there were bags under her eyes or if her clothes were wrinkled.

With a deep breath, she stepped out of her car and walked the few steps towards the entrance. She was two feet from the door when someone called her name.

“Lizzy, is that you?” said a familiar voice.

She flinched and turned to see Gertrude, one of the diner’s regulars from when she was a kid, who impossibly hadn’t aged a day in over twenty years since Lizzy had moved away.

“Gertrude, you’re still alive,” Lizzy blurted, too stunned for polite conversation.

“And kicking.” She cackled, giving a little shimmy. “Give me a hug, kiddo.”

Her impulse was to refuse, but the knee-jerk people-pleasing tendency had Lizzy leaning in for a bony hug. She regretted it instantly. In close proximity, she was struck with a wave of pity and grief from Gertrude.

It hit her like a freight train, and she resisted the urge to reel back from her to separate from the emotions wafting off the old woman. Instead, Lizzy retreated into that numb place, and the buzz of others’ emotions seemed to fade away.