“Why are you watching old man LaRue’s house?” she asks.
Frowning, I look from the house to her. “Old man LaRue?”
She nods, her missing-toothed grin flashing. “Well it was his before his fancy daughter moved him out and all the way to California. Now it just sits empty. Most folks say it’s haunted.”
My lips curve up into a small smile. “It’s not haunted,” I say.
But hell, maybe it is. Maybe that’s exactly what it is. Haunted with memories of the past, of a life that was left behind to be forgotten.
“You’re pretty. What’s your name?” she asks.
Licking my lips, I open my mouth to give her my stage name, one that I’ve been using for seventeen years. It feels more like my name these days than my actual birth name. I hesitate for some reason.
“Stephanie,” I say, the name tumbling from my lips without me being able to stop myself.
She nods, then shifts back onto her pedals. “By y’all,” she calls out before she starts to pedal her bike down the road.
I watch her for a moment before my gaze shifts back to the old house.
My old house now.
Unable to take another step toward the house, I walk back around my car, slipping into the driver’s seat. Starting the engine, I let out a heavy sigh as I shift the car into drive and head toward the hotel.
I snort, hotel, yeah. It’s a motel at best. The only one in town and their idea of a suite is a room with a mini-fridge. I’ll be lucky if I can get a non-smoking room and hot water. I drive through the town square, needing to see for myself if anything at all has changed.
It hasn’t.
The storefronts may not be decorated like they were twenty years ago, but everything is exactly as it was. This place is like being in a time warp. Nothing changes. Not even the clothes of the people walking around.
Deciding I need a break and some food, I park right in front of the diner, one that I don’t think will ever go away. My eyes travel the people walking up and down the sidewalk, not that there are many.
The men are all dressed in Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, most in straw hats, and a Pearl Snap Button Shirt. The women, jeans, boots, and a cotton shirt as well. Styles are just as they were twenty years ago and I can’t fathom how. Do they not get television? Magazines?
My stomach rumbles and I wonder if it’s a good idea to stop here. I have no doubt that it’s nothing but the same greasy spoon that it was back before I left. With a heavy sigh, I go for it, grabbing my purse off of the passenger seat, I unfold from the car.
Straightening my skirt, I hitch my bag over my shoulder before I step up onto the sidewalk. Making my way into the diner, my stomach clenches at the smell of the fried food that assaults my senses.
“Have a seat anywhere, hon,” a woman calls out.
Lifting my eyes, I blink at the sight of her. It’s Lulamae. I cannot believe that she still waitresses here, she’s older than my daddy. Without saying a word to her, I make my way toward the back of the restaurant and slip into a sticky booth seat and remove my sunglasses.
“What’ll you have to drink?” she barks as she sets a plastic laminate menu in front of me.
I don’t bother looking at the menu, they won’t have sparkling water, they won’t even have bottled water. It’ll be tap water only, and it’ll probably taste like chlorine.
“I’ll have an unsweetened tea,” I mutter.
She snorts. Lifting my gaze up to meet hers, I blink. “Is there something wrong?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Never thought little Stevie LaRue’d walk in here and order an unsweetened tea,” she practically sneers. “Never thought anybody from Texas would order that. Seems you forgot where you come from, girl.”
“I’m not Stevie LaRue, not anymore,” I say softly.
Lulamae leans down slightly, tilting her head to the side as her gaze scrutinizes me. Her top lip curls up in a look of disgust.
“You sure ain’t. Stevie LaRue would order a sweet tea. She’d also order a burger with tater tots. Then she’d get a milkshake for dessert because little Stevie LaRue loved her desserts. She also wouldn’t have stayed away from her home for almost twenty years.”