LITMIR.BIZ

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though those memories weren’t as clear. Maybe her time at the diner was further in the past. Whatever the case, she was driving there now. She felt ready to see people again, though she wondered what, if anything, they’d heard about her and the Letton hit-and-run. She really had no idea how much, or how little, of the information tying her to that accident had been obtained by the media.

      LuLu’s was a nondescript, one-story rectangular building with dark green shingled siding, a transparent attempt to put lipstick on a pig. The empty flower beds on either side of the wooden steps that led to weather-beaten French doors didn’t help. Even the green-and-white striped awning above the doors seemed like an afterthought, and maybe not a very good one. But still, seeing the place brought back wave upon wave of memories. She’d loved LuLu’s. Had filled those flower boxes with red petunias. Had worked as a waitress here, though she couldn’t remember her mother on the premises…hmmm…

      Gemma pulled the truck into the side gravel lot, yanked on the emergency brake, cut the engine, then as it coughed and shook itself to silence, she headed up the four front steps and stepped beneath the awning to avoid the surprisingly hot sun. The rain had vanished after a couple of drenched days, and now the ground was as hard and dry as before.

      She twisted open the right French door, as she knew the left was fixed in place, entering immediately into the main dining room. Straight ahead was a counter with stools and behind it she could see the stainless-steel appliances and paraphernalia of the kitchen.

      The familiarity of the place soaked in, right to her core, and Gemma inhaled deeply, feeling more solidly connected to herself than she had since waking up in the hospital. LuLu’s. Her home away from home.

      “Hey, sugar,” a female voice called from behind the counter. Gemma looked over and saw a tall, red-haired woman in a beige uniform with a white collar, the front pockets gaping open to reveal notepads and pens. Her large bust was propped up with a sturdy bra and she wore enough eye makeup to open her own department store. She was grinning with delight at Gemma. “You look like hell, honey. Get over here.”

      “Macie,” Gemma said, a rush of pleasure flooding her. Macie was the one who ran the diner. Macie was the one who’d treated Gemma like a daughter when Jean was at a complete loss, never flagging in that role even when she had her own child, Charlotte, now eleven.

      And Macie was the one who never rolled her eyes in embarrassment or repressed anger when Gemma’s debilitating headaches and memory losses bewildered the young girl.

      It all clicked together. The diner was Macie’s, not Jean’s. The LaPorte family leased the premises to Macie, and had for as long as Gemma could remember. Gemma was now Macie’s landlord but she’d spent many happy hours in her youth working as a waitress.

      “Good grief, girl, you look like somebody smacked you silly.” She regarded Gemma with real concern. “What happened?”

      “I was in a car accident.”

      “Woowee. You okay?”

      “My face looks worse than it feels.”

      Macie cocked her head. “I could show you a thing or two about makeup. Would take care of all them bruises, I do believe. But you ain’t never let me take a mascara brush to you yet, so I think I’ll just save my breath. Besides, you’ve got it under control. Another couple of days or so and no one’ll be able to tell. Anybody else hurt?”

      Gemma thought of Edward Letton. “Not that I know of,” she said carefully. “I gotta get down to the DMV. Lost my purse and now I’m driving without my license.”

      “That’ll be the time you get stopped.”

      “Don’t I know it.” She glanced around. “Charlotte at school?”

      “God, I hope so. That child’ll be the death of me if she gets into more trouble.”

      “What’s she done?” Gemma smiled, her mental picture of the skinny, tough girl coming into focus. Charlotte wore her hair in a short bob and the scowl on her face said most adults were idiots.

      “Just leaves in the middle of her last class. She’s done it four times already. Just walks out. School’s only about two miles from the diner, so she takes off and shows up here. Meanwhile, I get calls from the administration.” She flapped a hand. “They threaten her with detention and black marks and the whole enchilada, but it doesn’t faze her. She told me the teacher’s a bore.”

      Gemma’s smile grew. Charlotte was everything she’d ever wanted to be, at her age. She felt bonded to the child as if they were sisters.

      That thought brought her stomach a funny wave of discomfort.

      If anything should ever happen to Charlotte…

      “Macie!” an impatient male voice called from across the room. A guy in a plaid workshirt, jeans, and workboots was holding up an empty coffee mug.

      “Hold on to your knickers, Captain. I’ll be right there.” To Gemma, she murmured in an aside, “Still thinks he’s the only one in the place.” She sauntered toward him, snagging the coffeepot from a plugged-in burner on her way.

      Gemma sat at the last booth in the row, which was wedged into an alcove, and ordered a sandwich. Her favorite spot. She’d spent a lot of hours at the diner, either working or seated at this very table, catching a meal in between shifts. This was the epitome of normality. This was the arena of her fondest memories.

      “Did you ever find that guy?” Macie asked when she had a spare moment. She set the coffeepot back on the burner and sent Gemma a questioning look.

      “Which guy?”

      “The one you were chasing? The one you had to stop?”

      Gemma stared at Macie as one of the other waitresses, whose name tag read Denise, brought Gemma her turkey on rye. She felt slightly strangled, like she couldn’t get her breath. “The accident knocked things out of my head.”

      “The accident?” Macie gave her a oh, come on look. “Since when do you need an excuse for your on/off brain. You know it works better than most.” She shot the man she’d called Captain a searing glance. “A case in point…”

      “What guy did I have to stop?”

      “You tell me, girl. All I saw was you getting all worked up and tearing outta the diner lot like you’d seen a ghost. I thought it was that guy sitting in the booth by the door ’cause you waited till his vehicle was outta sight before you ran to your momma’s car.”

      “My momma’s car…” Gemma repeated, her heart jerking. So, it was true…

      “Well, it wasn’t your car, now was it?” Macie declared.

      “I guess not.”

      “Hon, you told me yours was on its last legs, so you sold it. Don’t you remember?”

      “Kind of,” Gemma lied.

      “Well, no matter.” She shrugged it off. “You said you were just driving your momma’s temporarily. It’s kind of a wreck, to be perfectly honest. Jean sure didn’t know how to take care of things. Sorry, hon, bless her soul, but your momma was kind of in her own world. Best thing she ever did was adopt you. Really about the only truly selfless thing she did, but then we know how that turned out, don’t we? What are you gonna do about her business, now? Sally Van Kamp was asking if you were ever gonna call her back.”

      “Not sure I have her number,” Gemma murmured. She felt bombarded with information, yet Macie was only telling her the kind of information she’d craved to learn. Psychic readings. That’s the business Macie meant. Sally Van Kamp wanted a psychic reading from Gemma. All of Jean’s clients had tenaciously hung in there whether Gemma wanted to tell them their futures or not.

      “She said she left it on the machine.”

      “Oh.” There were messages on the house voice mail but Gemma hadn’t known how to retrieve them.

      And

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