Page 10

"There's a diner. Best food in town."

"Is it the only food in town?"

"That too," I answer with a laugh.

Mae's diner is half-full when we walk in. Mae herself is behind the counter, and when she sees me her eyebrows go up. When she sees Lyla beside me, they go up further.

"Well," Mae says, coming around the counter. "Kieran Walsh with a guest. Will wonders never cease."

"Mae, this is Lyla. She just moved to town."

"Did she now?" Mae gives Lyla a thorough once-over, and whatever she sees must pass inspection because she smiles. "Welcome to Bloomfield, honey. Any friend of Kieran's is welcome here."

"Thank you," Lyla says, and I can see her relaxing under Mae's warmth.

"You two want a booth?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Mae leads us to a corner booth with cracked vinyl seats and a view of Main Street through the big front windows. She brings menus and water, gives me a look that clearly says we'll be discussing this later, and disappears back to the kitchen.

"She seems nice," Lyla says, opening her menu.

"She is. But she's also the biggest gossip in town. By tomorrow morning everyone will know I brought you here."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. Just fair warning."

We order. She gets a burger and fries, I get the meatloaf special, and we both get coffee that's significantly better than what either of us made at home.

The food comes fast, and we eat while the light outside shifts from bright afternoon to early evening gold.

"This is really good," Lyla says around a bite of burger.

"Mae knows what she's doing."

"Does she own the place?"

"Her and her husband. They've been running it for thirty years."

The conversation flows easily. She tells me about growing up in North Carolina, about how she got into design, about her family. I tell her about Bloomfield, about the people who've lived here for generations, about how the town comes together when someone needs help.

"It sounds like a good place to live," she says.

"It is. If you don't mind everyone knowing your business."

"After Richmond, that actually sounds kind of nice."

We talk through two cups of coffee each, and I lose track of time.

The light outside keeps changing, going orange and then pink, and people drift in and out of the diner, and I realize I haven't had a conversation this long with anyone in months. Maybe years.

"Can I ask you just one more thing?" Lyla says when Mae's cleared our plates and refilled the coffee.

"Yeah."

"Are you happy here? I mean really happy, not just getting by."