Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
The brass bell above the door jingles as we step into Biscuits and Banter, and the warm scent of bacon grease and fresh coffee wraps around us like a decadent addiction.
Black and white checkerboard floors stretch beneath our feet, leading to a collection of mismatched wooden tables and chairs that somehow work together perfectly.
A long Formica counter with round stools covered in red vinyl runs the length of one side of the diner, while a wall of windows lets in the morning light along the opposite wall.
The place feels like it’s been pulled straight from a Norman Rockwell painting.
“Greased lightning, this place is the bee’s knees,” Asher whispers.
I giggle. “It’s a gas, Daddy-o. I really dig it.”
And I do. It’s amazing.
We slide into a booth against the window, the sparkly red vinyl cushions creaking under our weight. The conversations around us create a comfortable buzz—locals catching up over coffee, the clink of silverware against plates, the occasional burst of laughter.
It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, and I can’t help but wonder if any of these people knew my family.
A mountain of a man emerges from behind the counter, his broad shoulders straining against a black t-shirt that reads, “I’m Not Arguing, I’m Just Explaining Why I’m Right.” He has kind eyes and a salt-and-pepper beard that makes him look like a gentle giant.
“Morning, kids. Haven’t seen you two around these parts before.” His voice carries a slight Southern drawl. “I’m Marty. What can I get y’all?”
“Coke, please,” I say, then pause. “Actually, can we pay by tap? We only have our phones.”
“Sure thing, darlin’. We’re not completely stuck in the Stone Age.” Marty grins and pulls out a small card reader from his apron pocket. “Though some folks around here would prefer we were.”
“Great. We’ll take two Cokes and a couple of cheeseburgers with fries.”
“How do you want those burgers?”
“Medium rare for me,” I say.
“Same,” Asher adds, then leans forward conspiratorially. “And maybe some bacon on them, too.”
Marty chuckles and jots down our order. “I can do that. Be right back with those Cokes.”
As Marty heads back to the counter, I take inventory of the other patrons. A group of older women sits at a corner table, their heads bent together in intense conversation. One keeps glancing our way, her silver hair catching the light.
Near the counter, a man in overalls reads a newspaper while methodically working through a stack of pancakes. Two teenagers share a milkshake at the far end, completely absorbed in each other.
“Do you think any of them are magical?” Asher murmurs, following my gaze.
“How can we tell? Everyone in here looks as normal as the next.”
Asher scoffs and straightens, feigning offense. “Speak for yourself. I’m clearly extraordinary.”
I snort. “Your modesty is showing.”
The older women are definitely staring now, their whispered conversation growing more animated. A chill runs down my spine. Do they know who I am? Or are we just the entertainment du jour? Two strangers who stumbled into their small-town bubble?
Marty returns with two glasses of soda and sets them down with care. “There we are, folks. And the drinks are on the house for first-timers. Consider it a welcome to Emberwood.”
“Thanks, that’s really kind.”
He shrugs. “Small town hospitality at its finest.”
When he leaves to refill the coffee of a woman two booths over, I stick my straw through the ice and take a sip. “Yep, that’s cold enough to wake up my brain.”
“This place is a kick.” Asher gestures to the walls, which are covered in black and white photos of the town’s history. “It’s like stepping back in time.”
I study the photos, searching for my parents. One with my mom catches my eye. She’s with a group of teenagers standing in front of the diner, all smiles and summer tan. It looks like it was taken in the nineties.
The two of us examine every detail in that photo until the kitchen door swings open, and a tall, handsome man emerges carrying two plates.
He’s probably in his late-forties, with wheat-blond hair and an easy smile.
His chef’s apron is splattered with grease stains, and he moves with the confident grace of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing.
He approaches our table and sets down the plates with a flourish. “Two burgers, medium rare, with—”
He stops mid-sentence, his eyes locking onto mine. The color drains from his face, and for a moment, he just stares. Then his expression shifts to something between wonder and disbelief.
He presses a hand against his chest, and light glimmers off his wedding band. “Oh, my… You’ve got to be one of Zoe’s beautiful girls. You look exactly like her when she was your age.”
My heart skips. “You knew my mom?”
“Yeah, I grew up with her.” He grabs a chair from the table opposite us and spins it to straddle the seat. “I’m Tanner. My family has owned and operated Biscuits for generations. Your mom used to wait tables with me when we were teenagers. You look exactly like her, except for the hair.”
I pull at a loose strand of red, remembering the dye I washed into it a few days ago. Man, was that only three days ago? “Oh, this was only for Halloween. It’ll wash out. I’m Poppy, and this is my best friend, Asher.”
“Pleasure.” Asher reaches across the table, and Tanner gives him a friendly nod and shakes his hand.
“Poppy Hallowind-Forrester.” Tanner’s expression grows somber as he takes a long moment to study me. “I always wondered what happened to you girls after the accident. Are your sisters here too? Are you back?”
“I’m back. My sisters and I were separated when my parents died. I’ve come back to find out exactly what happened and to track them down.”
His brow furrows. “Separated? How did that happen?”
I shrug. “I wish I knew. So, yeah, we’ve got a lot of questions.”
Tanner glances around the diner, and frowns. “Well, I’m genuinely sorry to hear that. The Hallowind family is one of the Emberwood Elites who founded this town. That makes you and your sisters local royalty. You have roots here, Poppy, and I’m glad you found your way home.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be back often. This food smells amazing.”
He glances down at our plates and then shoots up to his feet. “Sorry, you kids enjoy your lunch while it’s hot. I need to get back to work anyway, but I’d love to talk more.”
“I’d like that.”
He turns to leave and then pauses. “It’s good to have a Hallowind back in Emberwood, Poppy. Welcome home. And if I can help you in any way, just let me know.”
As Tanner heads back to the kitchen, I’m riding an emotional high. Finally, a genuinely nice person who knew my mother. He worked with her and grew up with her. He can tell me stories about her life here. I bite my burger and moan. “Holy crapamoly, this is perfect.”
Tanner is watching me from behind the serving window in the back. “Is it good?”
I hold up my thumb, chewing. Best burger, evah!
Asher is digging into his lunch, too.
That’s when I notice him.
Against the back wall, a guy about my age sits at the end of a booth with a group of four others. His dark hair and sharp features could be considered attractive if he weren’t glaring at me like I just kicked his puppy into a culvert.
What the hell? The hostility of his stare sets off every alarm bell in my head.
He’s dangerous. My instincts are screaming at me to be wary, and they have never let me down yet.
My gaze drops to my plate, and I casually take another bite of my burger. “Asher, I think we have a problem. There’s a guy in the back booth who…” I slide my gaze toward the back, but the guy is gone. “Okay, never mind. S’all good.”
I take another bite of my burger and try not to let the hostility of the dark-haired guy’s glare ruin my lunch.
Maybe that guy is having a bad day, and his aggression has nothing to do with me. Maybe he was glaring off in the distance, and it only felt like he was trying to detonate me into an explosion of blood and guts.
Yeah, maybe. But somehow, I don’t think so.
Asher and I finish our lunch and linger for another hour.
After moving to sit at the serving counter for a round of pie, we face the fact that Miss Edna might not be coming this afternoon.
The good news is, with the lunch crowd thinned out, there are only a couple of regulars nursing pie, and we get to talk with Tanner and Marty more.
As the eighth-generation Oakley to run the diner, Tanner embraced his birthright and took over Biscuits and Banter about ten years ago. Originally, he believed he was born for bigger things than a small-town diner and went to the city to study in some big culinary program.
“But the pull of Emberwood took hold, and I soon realized returning home to assume the family business was a better fit for me than joining the pressured rat race of anonymity in the city.”
“And a good thing he did, too.” Marty stands behind the counter, drying a rack of personalized mugs to stack them on trays ready for the next rush. “Otherwise, we might not have met.”
Tanner flashes him an adoring smile. “We would’ve found each other one way or another, I’m sure.”
Marty winks and then smiles at us. “I hauled freight for most of my adult life. Twenty-three years drivin’ the cross-country run taught me the value of a decent cup of coffee and a meal that sticks to your ribs.”
Tanner laughs. “Biscuits and Banter was Marty’s favorite stop on his long-haul route.”
Marty finishes drying the mug in his hand and stacks it beside the others. “Not sure what hooked me quicker, Biscuit’s pulled-pork burger or the handsome blond servin’ it up. Either way, I fell fast and hard.”
“And you make one hell of a cute couple,” Asher adds. “Congrats, gentlemen. Score one for the boys’ team. You give me hope.”
Tanner arches a brow. “Son, I guarantee your Mr. Right is out there. I’ve known you for two hours and I’m ready to make our marriage an open relationship.”
Marty barks a laugh and reaches under the counter to pull out a worn, wooden bat.
“I usually only pull Badass Betsy out to scare off rowdy drunks, squash the occasional rat, or bust the headlights of some idiot tryin’ to dine-and-dash, but mess with my man and I’ll bring her out for an introduction. ”
Asher laughs and holds up his hands. “I have no desire to mess with Betsy. My search for the perfect man shall continue outside your marriage, I swear.”
Marty grins and sets the bat back in place. “Good to hear.”
Before I burst my buttons, I slide the last of my pie toward Asher. “All right. We’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you for the great food and scintillating conversation. We’ll get out of your hair.”
Asher pulls over my plate and grabs his fork. “Where are we off to, Pops?”
“I’d like to go to the cemetery. The woman across the road said my parents were laid to rest in the Hallowind crypt. Is it close? Do you have Uber here?”
“It’s definitely walkable and on the way back toward Hallowind House.” Tanner grabs a paper placemat from behind the counter, flips it over, and Marty hands him a pen so he can draw. “Main Street runs this way, and you’ll want to stay on Main until you hit Willow Lane.”
The pen scratches across the placemat as he sketches out streets and landmarks. “Turn left on Willow, go past the old lumber mill, and you can’t miss the cemetery. All the Emberwood Elite have mausoleums in the old section, near the back by the creek.”
I fold the makeshift map carefully and tuck it into my pocket. “And is it open to the public? Are we allowed to walk around?”
“Of course. Just try to leave before dark. That area gets foggy when the night cools, and people driving might not see you walking home if you’re on the side of the road.”
There’s something in the subtext of what he’s saying that I’m not sure of. He’s definitely warning us to be cautious, but it doesn’t seem like fog is what he’s worried about.
“Thanks. We’ll be careful.”