“Trust me. I’ll take a burger and fries over caviar any day.”
I reached the entrance first and pulled open the retro door, falling into a window booth near the front. “You’re not going to be disappointed. This place has the best fries in town.”
He glanced around. “As in, so bad they’re good?”
“As in the best of the best. They’re hand-cut and freshly fried to order. Not pre-made under some lamp in a moldy container in the back.”
“All right, then. Let’s put this to the test, shall we?”
Cathy came bouncing over to our table, a wide grin stretching across her face. Brittle auburn hair frizzed out of a high ponytail, victim of too many years of boxed color jobs. She pushed her reading glasses higher up on her nose, and the chain draped from the back of her ears behind her neck. In the decade or so that I’d known Cathy, she’d barely changed.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite do-gooder,” she offered with a grin. “How are you, kid? Stand your ass up and give me a hug.”
“I was getting there.” I laughed and pushed to my feet, wrapping my arms around her. Her hands landed on my shoulders, gently holding me at arms-length when our hug finished.
“Let me have a look at you.” I stood straight and caught Tate watching with a curious glance and an amused smirk. Cathy circled me as I stood rigid, mimicking a private in the army. She stopped in front of me and slapped the top of my arm with her ordering pad. “You’re too damn skinny, missy.” She never let the gap in between her two front teeth inhibit the smile at all. “But other than that, you’re perfect as you’ve ever been.”
“Right back at ya, Miss Cathy.” I slipped into the booth across from Tate. “This is my friend from school, Tate. He’s volunteering with me across the street. Tate, this is Cathy.”
“Well, good for you,” she said, tapping that same ordering pad on the table. “Start you with some fries?”
I grinned. “You know it. And—”
“Mint chip shake,” Cathy cut in. “I know, sweet girl. Just like your momma.” She gently smoothed my hair back and ran her hand down my ponytail before looking to Tate. “What about for you?”
“I’ll do a vanilla milkshake.”
“You got it.”
Cathy ran off to the kitchen, and I arched a brow at him. “Vanilla?”
He nodded, matching my smile. “Classic.”
I rolled my eyes. “Chocolate is classic. Vanilla’s boring.”
“Oh, Betty. The right person and the right place can make the most boring thing seemingly exciting.”
I gulped. “Is that so?”
My eyes wandered around the diner I knew so well. Blindfolded, I could still find the bathrooms.
“You come here a lot?” Tate asked.
“My whole life, practically.” I meant it to come out in a normal voice, but I barely managed anything above whisper.
The eight by ten picture behind the bar caught my attention. The cheap plastic frame had a tiny crack at the corner, and some glue had seeped out where someone had attempted a repair. My mom in her waitress uniform stood leaning on the counter while I sat at the bar, books open, looking up from my homework and grinning at the camera. Cathy had snapped the picture one day back when I was in high school. “I’ve been going to the tutoring center for years,” I answered, feeling numb to the conversation, like Tate was miles away.
He nodded thoughtfully, following my eyes to the wall across the room where the picture hung. Of course, he probably couldn’t see it from this far away. A photograph of a waitress serving at a crappy diner was probably not even on his radar. But it meant the world to me. I had the same photograph framed in my house.
Emotion swelled in my stomach like a balloon filling with water. I was grateful when Cathy dropped two milkshakes and the steaming plate of fries down between us. She sent me a quick wink and smiled. “Enjoy. Anything else tonight?”
“Chicken strips, please,” I said.
“And a burger for me.”
Cathy nodded and ran off once more to the kitchen. Tate grabbed a fry and hissed, dropping it back onto the plate with a yelp. He shook his fingers, pushing them into his mouth.
“Rookie mistake,” I said, laughing. “I warned you they were fresh.”
“I didn’t think that translated to scalding.” He laughed, too, dipping the burned finger into the ice water.
I took a sip of my mint chip milkshake, and a chunk of chocolate lodged in the