The Girl Who Chased the Moon by Sarah Addison Allen

him, Win guessed. To let Win know what was expected of him. They went to a different restaurant every morning, where Morgan chatted up everyone. Win just liked the opportunity to get out of the house as soon as possible, at first light. If it had to be with his father, then that was a small price to pay.
    “Ready?” Morgan asked when Win met him by the front door.
    “If I said no?” Win said as his father opened the door.
    Morgan inspected Win, from his red bow tie to his loafers. “You look ready.”
    “Then I suppose I am.”
    Morgan took a deep breath, reining in his anger. “Don’t get smart with me,” he said.
    And Win had to concede that it really was too early in the morning for such antagonism.
    They walked down the sidewalk. Vance had disappeared—no easy feat for a giant. This morning, Morgan had decided to go to Welchel’s Diner. When they entered, he scanned the room quickly, then led Win to a table by the door. Morgan liked to greet people as they came in. He liked to zero in on the tourists, on the people he didn’t recognize, first. Win often watched him in awe. For someone so seemingly content with his cloistered life, Morgan Coffey was genuinely thrilled to meet new people. It gave Win hope that, in the end, his father would understand why Win was going to go through with his plans. That’s what these mornings were really about, after all. They might be masked in public relations, but it was really all about acceptance.
    Win didn’t know how long they’d been there—not long, he supposed, because their breakfast orders hadn’t arrived yet—when he saw her.
    Emily walked past the diner, staring straight ahead, the sunlight at her back. Her arms and legs were long. She didn’t favor her grandfather in any way but this one. But where Vance looked like he’d grown too long, Emily looked … perfect.
    Win turned to see if his father had noticed. He hadn’t. In fact, Morgan had left the table without Win even being aware. He was across the room now, shaking hands with someone. Win turned back to the window, leaning forward to watch Emily walk away. With one last look at his father, he took his napkin out of his lap and set it on the table, then he pushed his chair back and quietly slipped out of the diner.
    He followed Emily at a distance, noticing she had on flip-flops that morning, and a Band-Aid on her heel. He stopped when she reached the bench outside of J’s Barbecue. She didn’t go in, and he wondered why. She didn’t look faint, like she’d looked yesterday morning. No, she was waiting. Waiting for her grandfather to come out. The gesture was both charming and uncomfortably lonely.
    He was only two or three storefronts away from her, close enough for Emily to look up when Inez and Harriet Jones approached him from behind and said in unison, “Hello, Win!”
    He returned Emily’s stare before reluctantly turning to Inez and Harriet. They were spinster sisters who lived next door to the Coffey mansion on Main Street. The sisters went everywhere together, wore matching dresses, and carried one purse between them. Long ago, when the Coffeys wanted to put a driveway between the two houses in order to reach the garage behind their house without having to drive around to the next street, the Jones sisters agreed to it on the condition that the Coffeys invite them for drinks every third Tuesday of the month. So, for over thirty years now, the elderly Jones sisters were a fixture on the Coffeys’ couch between four and five o’clock, once a month.
    “Hello, Miss Jones.” He nodded to Inez. “Miss Jones.” He nodded to Harriet.
    “We saw you staring at that pretty thing there,” Inez said, though Win wished she hadn’t. Emily could hear every word.
    Harriet sucked in her breath suddenly as she clutched her sister’s arm. “Sister, do you know who that is?”
    “Could it be?” Inez said, clutching her back.
    “Yes, it is!” Harriet answered.
    “What brings you two out so early