Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [79]
Two down, one to go.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
“See anything on the menu that appeals to you?” Sean sat across the booth from Amanda in Broeder’s one true diner and pretended to be considering the day’s specials.
“I’m not really all that hungry.”
He folded his menu and put it aside. “I realize that you’ve had a really, really bad day.” The glint in his eyes told her he knew he was understating the situation. “But you ate hardly anything at breakfast, too.”
“It was the bacon. Not a good idea. Bacon is not a good choice on an unsettled stomach.” She continued to scan the menu.
“What did you have for lunch?”
“A salad.”
“Yummy,” he mumbled.
“You ready to order, Chief? You see our specials?” The cute little waitress whose name tag identified her as Linda set two fat glasses of ice water on the table. Under normal circumstances, she would have been flirting like crazy with Sean, but today she busied herself with inspecting Amanda from the corner of one eye.
“Yes, but I’ll have the meat loaf.” He handed her his menu.
“Mashed or baked?”
“Gotta have the mashed with meat loaf.” He winked at her and she giggled.
“Miss?”
“Does the salmon special come with a sauce?” Amanda asked.
“Ah, it comes with lemon.” The waitress screwed up her face as if it were an unnatural thing to ask. “What kind of sauce were you looking for?”
“Something herby.”
“I can ask the cook,” she offered but made no move toward the kitchen.
The look on Sean’s face was pure amusement.
“What?” Amanda frowned.
“This is a diner,” he stage-whispered. “Not a French restaurant.”
“What would you suggest, then?”
“The meat loaf.”
“Not a big favorite of mine.”
“That’s because you probably haven’t had diner meat loaf.”
“Fine.” She looked up at the waitress. “I’ll have what he’s having. And an iced tea.”
“Iced tea sounds good. Make it two, Linda.”
“I’ll be back in a flash.”
“Can it be possible that you’ve never eaten at the Broeder Diner before?” Sean said.
“Guilty.”
“How could you have lived here for so long and not have eaten here?”
“I don’t know. I just never did.”
“Just take a look around. We’re talking classic American diner here,” he told her. “White walls. Black-and-white checkered tile floor. Red leather benches for the booths. American as apple pie.”
“Well, that’s not a favorite of mine, either.”
“Let me guess. Chocolate mousse.” He smiled up at Linda as she returned with two tall glasses of iced tea, lemon wedges riding on the rims.
“Yum. Although I do prefer a good pear tart. But nothing gets me going quite like bananas Foster.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, shaking his head, and she laughed for the first time that day.
“That’s better,” he said softly, wanting to reach across the table to her, but knowing that sort of intimate gesture would generate a little too much fodder for the small-town gossip mill. “How long do you suppose it’s been since you laughed?”
“There hasn’t been much to laugh about lately.” She rested both arms on the table in front of her and looked solemn.
He started to say something, but her attention was drawn to the front of the diner. The door being directly in her line of vision, she could not avoid seeing every patron who came in or went out.
The redheaded woman walked slowly down the aisle as if counting heads or looking for someone. Amanda had a feeling she knew who that someone was.
“Sean?” The woman stopped next to their table.
“Ramona.” He looked up and appeared to be trying to smile.
“Did you get my message?” The woman’s voice was very soft and very sweet and almost apologetic. “I called you. . . .”
“I’ve been a little busy.” He looked pained. “We’ve had a few homicides here in Broeder. You might have read about them in the paper.”
“I don’t usually read the papers.” She shook her head. “Too much bad news, you know?”
“Well, bad news is my business, Ramona.”
She nodded and turned to Amanda as if seeing her for the first time.
“Are you Sean’s girlfriend?” the woman asked.
“Ahhhh . . .” Amanda stuttered, taken aback by the question.
“This is Amanda. She’s a friend.” Sean’s