office and left her to set up a workspace. He had a list of office tasks he planned to give her the next day, once she’d settled in. After their talk that morning, he wanted to ease her into the job, didn’t want to overwhelm her.
Harper had bounced back, chattering cheerfully about her plans for a quick lunch at Common Grounds while she whipped up omelets and toast. He had let her talk, interjecting appropriate responses, but his mind raced.
She had no one. Hadn’t had anyone since she was six years old, which explained a lot. No wonder she was a walking disaster. She never had a family to keep her out of trouble.
She must have been in the car with her parents. That had to have been when the broken arm and ribs happened. Did she remember it?
How many foster homes had she been through? Who did she spend Christmas with?
Luke dropped his head against the headrest. His own family could drive him crazy, but there wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t grateful for them.
Maybe it was time he started acting like it again. He glanced at his watch. He had enough time before his afternoon meeting to make a few unscheduled stops.
***
L uke pushed open the screen door of his parents’ home. “Ma?”
“Back in the kitchen.” Her voice floated to him with the scent of fresh baked chocolate.
“I wasn’t sure if you worked today,” he called, following his nose down the hallway. Claire worked part-time for the florist in town and often got called in for extra shifts.
His mother turned from the oven, clutching a glass dish. “That damn Pinterest. I saw a recipe for mudslide brownies and couldn’t help myself. Oh!” She looked at the flowers he was holding. “What are those?”
He held out the lilies to her. “Trade?”
“You brought me flowers?” She put the brownies on the counter and grabbed the bouquet. “What’s the occasion?”
His mother’s shock and joy was enough to make him feel a little guilty for not thinking to do this sooner.
“No occasion. Just saw them and thought of you.”
Claire buried her face in them. “They’re beautiful, Luke!”
He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.
“Do you want to stay for lunch?” Claire offered.
“Can’t.” Luke checked his watch. “I’m picking Dad up in 15 for lunch, but I’ll take two brownies.”
“As long as one of them is for Harper.”
Luke smiled. “We’ll see if she hasn’t run screaming for the hills yet after getting a look at the last six months of unfiled paperwork.”
“In that case, I’m packing four brownies and Harper gets to decide if you get any. She’s a lovely girl, Luke. I really like her.”
“I do, too.”
And he meant it.
***
C harlie Garrison was a broad-shouldered man who had worn his silver hair in the same style since the ’60s. In homage to the brisk spring temperatures, he had traded his heavy Carhartt for a lighter flannel jacket. He slid into the booth across from Luke and pushed the menu to the edge of the table. He always ordered the same thing. They both did.
Luke accepted the unordered cup of coffee from the waitress and smiled as she slid a Coke into his dad’s hands. Claire had for her pre-diabetic husband a strict no-soda rule that was only broken at the diner.
“The usual, boys?” Sandra asked, not bothering to pull out her notepad.
“Yes, ma’am.” Charlie handed her the menus and she winked as she walked away. A retired elementary school music teacher, Sandra owned the diner and worked the lunch shift four days a week.
Luke leaned back, resting his arm on the back of the booth. “I wonder what she’d do if we ever ordered something different.”
“Probably bring us the usual anyway.” He plucked the straw out of the glass and put it on the table before taking a deep drink. “So what’s the occasion?”
“For lunch?”
“It’s been awhile.”
Luke nodded, toying with his mug. “Yeah.” It had been. What years ago had been a standing weekly tradition
Harper had bounced back, chattering cheerfully about her plans for a quick lunch at Common Grounds while she whipped up omelets and toast. He had let her talk, interjecting appropriate responses, but his mind raced.
She had no one. Hadn’t had anyone since she was six years old, which explained a lot. No wonder she was a walking disaster. She never had a family to keep her out of trouble.
She must have been in the car with her parents. That had to have been when the broken arm and ribs happened. Did she remember it?
How many foster homes had she been through? Who did she spend Christmas with?
Luke dropped his head against the headrest. His own family could drive him crazy, but there wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t grateful for them.
Maybe it was time he started acting like it again. He glanced at his watch. He had enough time before his afternoon meeting to make a few unscheduled stops.
***
L uke pushed open the screen door of his parents’ home. “Ma?”
“Back in the kitchen.” Her voice floated to him with the scent of fresh baked chocolate.
“I wasn’t sure if you worked today,” he called, following his nose down the hallway. Claire worked part-time for the florist in town and often got called in for extra shifts.
His mother turned from the oven, clutching a glass dish. “That damn Pinterest. I saw a recipe for mudslide brownies and couldn’t help myself. Oh!” She looked at the flowers he was holding. “What are those?”
He held out the lilies to her. “Trade?”
“You brought me flowers?” She put the brownies on the counter and grabbed the bouquet. “What’s the occasion?”
His mother’s shock and joy was enough to make him feel a little guilty for not thinking to do this sooner.
“No occasion. Just saw them and thought of you.”
Claire buried her face in them. “They’re beautiful, Luke!”
He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.
“Do you want to stay for lunch?” Claire offered.
“Can’t.” Luke checked his watch. “I’m picking Dad up in 15 for lunch, but I’ll take two brownies.”
“As long as one of them is for Harper.”
Luke smiled. “We’ll see if she hasn’t run screaming for the hills yet after getting a look at the last six months of unfiled paperwork.”
“In that case, I’m packing four brownies and Harper gets to decide if you get any. She’s a lovely girl, Luke. I really like her.”
“I do, too.”
And he meant it.
***
C harlie Garrison was a broad-shouldered man who had worn his silver hair in the same style since the ’60s. In homage to the brisk spring temperatures, he had traded his heavy Carhartt for a lighter flannel jacket. He slid into the booth across from Luke and pushed the menu to the edge of the table. He always ordered the same thing. They both did.
Luke accepted the unordered cup of coffee from the waitress and smiled as she slid a Coke into his dad’s hands. Claire had for her pre-diabetic husband a strict no-soda rule that was only broken at the diner.
“The usual, boys?” Sandra asked, not bothering to pull out her notepad.
“Yes, ma’am.” Charlie handed her the menus and she winked as she walked away. A retired elementary school music teacher, Sandra owned the diner and worked the lunch shift four days a week.
Luke leaned back, resting his arm on the back of the booth. “I wonder what she’d do if we ever ordered something different.”
“Probably bring us the usual anyway.” He plucked the straw out of the glass and put it on the table before taking a deep drink. “So what’s the occasion?”
“For lunch?”
“It’s been awhile.”
Luke nodded, toying with his mug. “Yeah.” It had been. What years ago had been a standing weekly tradition
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