Blackbird. Natália Gomes
frowned. She actually was an attractive woman. At fifty-seven, she could pass for forty, and when she dressed up, which rarely happened, she could look like a belle of thirty-five. “Well, you do what you think best,” she said. “But I’m going to eat at the Greet. And so is Elizabeth.”
Gillian opened her door. “Say hello for me.”
“Sure you won’t come?”
Gillian got into the car and shut the door. Leaning out the open window, she gave Felicia a smile and a wave. “See you later.”
“If Aunt Elizabeth is eating out, why can’t we?” Eli asked.
“Because I have a chicken defrosted.”
Eli kicked the dashboard with his sneaker. “I don’t even like chicken.”
“Well then, you can just eat the green beans.”
He scrunched his face up again. Gillian smiled.
CONNER DIALED his home number to get his messages. After he punched in his code, he looked around his room. It wasn’t the Four Seasons, but it wasn’t bad. The king-size bed seemed firm, the linens clean. And the TV carried several cable channels.
No messages. He hung up the phone, then got the room key from the nightstand. He was so hungry even the prospect of eating at the Eat ’N Greet was getting him all excited. Actually, he shouldn’t be so prejudiced. Sometimes small-town diners had the best food. Why not this place?
He got a paperback out of his overnight bag, then left the ground-floor room, locking it behind him. The air had cooled slightly since he’d checked in. It would be a lovely night. March could be ungodly hot in Texas, so this was a treat. In fact, he was glad he needed to walk to the diner. He wanted to see if the people in the doorways were still there.
He got to Main Street and turned left. The trees cast long shadows on the uneven sidewalk, and he could see his reflection clearly in the windows, which wasn’t what he’d been after. He’d wanted to check out the little stores, see how the town displayed itself. But it was too nice out to be displeased for long. This was his vacation after all.
His much needed vacation. The hospital had been particularly busy in the past few months, and while he had interns and residents to take up some of the slack, he’d felt as though he’d been living in the hospital instead of his apartment. He’d eaten too much cafeteria food, slept on too many call-room cots and had too many nights of interrupted sleep. Tonight, he’d go to bed early and sleep forever. Well, at least until noon.
He passed the bakery door and surprised the young woman locking up. She jumped as if he’d been a ghost, then gave him a sort of smile. He nodded and smiled in return but picked up his pace. What an odd town. In fact, he could feel the woman watching him. That uncomfortable, vulnerable sense that a bull’s-eye was painted on his back stayed with him as he passed a doctor’s office. Finally, he couldn’t help himself; he had to look back.
Sure enough, the bakery woman was staring at him while she talked into a cellular phone. At least she had the decency to turn when he caught her.
It didn’t matter, though. There was the Eat ’N Greet. Maybe he’d have some chicken-fried steak. It was an indulgence he rarely gave in to, but tonight, he felt like walking on the wild side.
There was his Land Rover. He’d drive it to the motel after dinner and park it in the small lot out back, which was better than leaving it on the main drag.
He reached the entrance of the diner and saw two signs, one that told him he’d better be wearing a shirt and shoes if he wanted service, and the other advertising free kittens, call Pop Burns for details. When was the last time he’d seen free kittens advertised on a restaurant door?
He pushed on through but stopped immediately. The place was packed. Every table, except one, was occupied by at least two people. All the booths were filled, and even the long counter had no vacancies. His gaze went back to the empty table. It was right in the middle of the diner. Where everyone could get a nice eyeful if they wanted. And given the fact that every person in the place was staring at him, he’d wager they did.
A woman, he wasn’t sure who, cleared her throat. As if on cue, everyone turned away at the same time. Two seconds later, they started talking. Five seconds later, both waitresses picked up plates of food from the kitchen and headed toward the booths.
Weird. Very weird. He didn’t think anyone was going to seat him, so he made his way to the empty table. As soon as he sat down, one of the waitresses—Juanita, according to the name embroidered on the pink uniform—gave him a menu and the first really welcoming smile he’d seen in Miller’s Landing. He smiled back, deciding right then to leave an obscenely large tip.
“How y’all doing?” Juanita asked, her Texas twang pronounced.
“Fine, thanks.”
“We’ve got some meat loaf on special tonight. And some fried chicken.”
“How about chicken-fried steak?”
“You got it.”
“And a beer?”
She nodded. “We got Miller on tap.”
“Perfect.”
She smiled again and headed off for the kitchen. Conner took the opportunity to open his book. But it was damn hard to read when he felt like the main attraction at a carnival. He kept having to reread whole passages. But he didn’t give up. Even when Juanita brought him his dinner, he kept on reading. He stopped briefly to cut up his food—the best chicken-fried steak he’d had in his life—but then went right back to Michael Crichton’s latest.
Some kid bumped his table on his way out, and then Juanita told him they had homemade cherry cobbler, which he ordered. Other than that, things seemed to settle down. Maybe the novelty of a stranger in town was wearing off. He sure hoped so.
By the time he’d finished his coffee and cobbler and paid the bill, he felt almost kindly toward Miller’s Landing. So what if people stared? His dinner had made up for that in spades. He’d come here again tomorrow. He wanted to try the peach cobbler.
He left Juanita five bucks, then headed out. He heard the sound of chairs scraping, of bodies rising from the fake leather seats in the booths. Was everyone going to leave with him? Maybe walk him to his car? Then the woman cleared her throat again, and everyone paused. Conner hurried out the door.
When he got outside, he saw a local sheriff talking to the woman from the bakery. They were at the far edge of the Eat ’N Greet, leaning against the window. On the other side of the building, also leaning against the window, was the woman in the denim dress. She was smoking a cigarette.
He shook his head as he went to his car door. Just as he unlocked it, his gaze went to his windshield. To the hole in the middle of the glass. Perfectly round, the size of a BB, with a corona of broken glass around it. “Dammit to hell,” he said, cursing whoever had aimed the BB gun, the diner, the whole weird town. Where was he going to get that fixed out here?
Just as he was getting into his wounded vehicle, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find the sheriff standing next to his car. Good. Maybe he’d help find the cretinous little vandals.
“Officer…” he began. But he didn’t go on. The look the cop was giving him wasn’t terribly benevolent.
“Excuse me, sir, but what do you see over there?”
Conner looked back at the diner, where the cop was pointing. Standing in the doorway were three kids and a woman in jeans and a T-shirt. Two girls and a boy, none of them over eight. “I see a family,” Conner answered, not at all sure what the hell was going on.
“A family. That’s right. A woman and her children.”
Conner frowned at the cop, wondering if he was being filmed in some practical joke. “Yeah?”
“I don’t know what they let you get away with in Houston,