Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I think for a moment, mentally going through the short list of dishes I can prepare without poisoning my family. “I can make spaghetti and meatballs?”
“With it being Labor Day on Monday, Sage is coming home for the long weekend.”
My eyebrows lift with surprise. “Really? She’s actually taking time off work?”
“Thankfully, yes.” Mom sighs with relief. “It will be so nice to have her home.”
With Sage not liking meatballs, I decide to try my luck and mention, “She loves pizza. I can stop at the diner and get two or three.”
Mom grins at me. “It is Friday, after all, and we have plenty to celebrate. Sage is coming to visit, and you’ve completed your order.”
“Definitely.” I lean closer with a wide smile. “Think of all that greasy cheese. Yum.”
Mom nods excitedly. “That’s it. Get us three pizzas.” She pulls cash out of the register. “Order a pepperoni for your dad and have them add chilies.”
“I’ll get Hawaiian for Sage.”
Mom nods, holding the dollar bills out to me. “As long as the third one has a lot of cheese, I’m good.”
Not taking the cash from Mom, I say, “Pizza is on me.”
“Aww, thanks, buttercup.”
I finish the last of my latte before moving around the counter to drop the empty cup in the trash can. “I’ll see you at home.”
“Okay. If there aren’t any customers in the next thirty minutes, I’ll lock up.”
Walking to the door, I blow Mom a kiss before I leave the store and head in the direction of the diner.
Since Dad became the mayor, businesses have been booming in Verona. Even though there’s a new restaurant, I still prefer getting all our takeout from Reggie’s Diner.
I glance up and down the street before crossing to where the diner is situated on the corner, its red leather seats visible through the windows.
When I step inside the air-conditioned building, the familiarity of a close-knit community wraps around me. I sit down on one of the stools by the main counter and grin at Waverly. Her mother, Jesse-Lee, has owned the diner since before I was born.
Waverly places the glass cover over the last two slices of apple pie, then comes toward me. “It’s been a while, Kelcie. How have you been?”
“Same old. I was busy with work.” I shrug, then ask, “How are you and Lucas? And your mom?”
“We’re good. Mom’s visiting my aunt in Florida, and Lucas is going through a stage where he has boundless energy. He doesn’t sit still for a minute.”
Lucas is the cutest five-year-old I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Just let me know if you need a night to yourself and I’ll babysit,” I offer.
“You sure?” she asks, tired lines pulling at the corners of her eyes and mouth. “I would just love to soak in the tub for hours.”
“How about Tuesday night? You can bring Lucas over after your shift, and he can even spend the night so you can get some rest.”
Waverly grabs hold of my forearm and gives me a squeeze. “God, Kelcie, that would be amazing. Are you sure your parents won’t mind?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. They’ll probably end up spoiling him rotten.”
She gives me a trembling smile as emotion washes over her pretty features. “I’d appreciate it. How much do you charge?”
I shake my head again. “Nothing.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “You can’t look after Lucas for an entire night and not charge anything.”
I think for a moment, then grin. “You can put extra cheese on my pizza order.”
“That’s a deal.” Digging a notepad and pen from her apron pocket, she asks, “Which pizzas do you want?”
“One pepperoni, one Hawaiian, aaand . . .” I reach for a menu and pull it closer to look over the selection the diner offers. “Make the third one with as many layers of cheese as you can pile on.”
“Coming right up.” She turns away from me to give the order to Rodney, the cook. Glancing over her shoulder, she asks, “Would you like a soda while you wait?”
I shake my head. “I just had something to drink.”
I glance at the other customers in the diner, which is not too busy before the evening rush.
When Waverly brings me the bill, I quickly pay. While I wait for my order, I watch a bit of the football rerun on the TV that’s mounted next to the chalkboard menu that shows the specials for the week.
A hand settles on my shoulder, and my head snaps to the side. Seeing Colby Adams, who graduated the same year as me, I smile.
He was the most popular boy in school due to him being the quarterback. After we graduated, he became a reporter for the Sugar River Valley area. I was actually surprised. I always thought he’d move to the city.
“Hey,” he says as he takes a seat beside me. “How’s the prettiest girl in Verona doing?”