Startled out of her thoughts, Amanda smiled at the familiar voice and turned to look at Hank Bristow. At eighty, Hank was tall and thin and his skin was craggy from a lifetime spent in the sun. Now that his sons ran the family ranch, Hank spent most of his time in the diner, talking with his friends. His blue eyes twinkled as he held out his cup for a refill.
“Hank, you just love me for my coffee,” she told him, pouring a stream of the hot, fresh brew into his cup.
“A woman who can make good coffee?” Hank shook his head and said solemnly, “Worth her weight in gold.”
She smiled, patted his hand, then carried the carafe along the length of the counter, chatting with her customers, freshening coffee as she went. It was all so familiar. So…easy. She’d slid into life in Royal as smoothly as if she’d never left.
“Why did you order new menus?”
Okay, not completely smoothly. Amanda turned to face Pam. As usual, the shorter woman didn’t look happy with her. But then, the two of them had never been close. Not growing up. Not now. Even though Amanda had primarily come back to Royal because Pam had needed help running the diner. But, she supposed, needing help and wanting it were two different things.
Amanda walked the length of the counter again, and set the coffeepot down on the warmer before she answered.
“Because the old ones needed to be replaced,” she said. “The laminate was cracked and old and the menus themselves were outdated.” Catching the look of interest on Hank’s face, Amanda lowered her voice. “We don’t even serve half the things listed anymore, Pam.”
Her sister’s chin-length brown hair was tucked behind her ears. She wore a red T-shirt and jeans and a pair of scarlet sandals wrapped around her feet. She was tapping the toe of one sandal against the shining linoleum floor. “But our regular customers know that. They don’t need fancy new menus, Amanda.”
She sighed, but stood her ground. “They’re not fancy, Pam. They’re just not ratty.”
Pam hissed in a breath.
“Okay, sorry.” Amanda dug deep for patience and said, “We’re in this together, right? You said you needed help and I came home. The Altman sisters running the diner. Together.”
Pam thought about that for a long second before finally shrugging. “As long as you remember I didn’t ask you to come in and take over.”
“I’m not taking over, Pam. I’m trying to help.”
“By changing everything?” Pam’s voice spiked, then she seemed to realize that everyone in the place was no doubt listening because she spoke more softly when she continued. “There’s such a thing as tradition around here, you know. Or did you forget, living off in Dallas for so long?”
A small twinge of guilt nibbled at her insides. Amanda hadn’t been around much the last few years, it was true. And she should have been. She knew that, too. It had been just Amanda, Pam and their father, since her mother had died years before and the three of them had sort of drifted apart. For the rest of her life, she knew she’d regret not spending more time with her dad when she had the chance.
But she had grown up in the diner just as Pam had. Changing things wasn’t easy for her, either. A part of her hated getting rid of things that her father had put in place. But times changed whether you wanted them to or not.
“Dad told us himself that when he took over the diner from his father, he made lots of changes,” she argued, defending the new, still red—but unscarred red—counter and tables.
Pam scowled at her. “That’s not the point.”
Amanda took a deep breath and inhaled the aroma of fresh coffee, eggs and bacon. “Then what is the point, Pam? You asked me to come home and help, remember?”
“Help, not take over.”
Okay, maybe she had been a little quick with changes. Maybe she hadn’t taken the time to include her sister in decisions being made. That was her fault and she was willing to take the blame for it. In her defense, Pam had made herself scarce since Amanda got back to town. But, if she mentioned that, it would only start a new argument, so she let it go.
“You’re right,” Amanda said and watched surprise flicker in her sister’s eyes. “I should have talked to you about the menus. About the countertops and tables and I didn’t. I just …” She paused to look around the diner before adding, “I guess I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this place. And when I got home, I just dove right in.”
“I can’t believe you missed the diner,” Pam muttered.
Amanda laughed. “I know. Me, neither. You and I spent so much time working here as kids, who knew that I’d look forward to working here again?”
Pam sighed and leaned against the counter. She shot a frown at Hank, who was still listening in. The old man rolled his eyes and looked away.
“It’s good you’re here,” Pam finally said. “And between the two of us, we should be able to both run the diner and have lives.”
“We will,” Amanda said, smiling a little at the tiny bridge suddenly springing up between the sisters.
“But it is the two of us, Amanda,” Pam told her firmly. “You don’t get to make all the decisions and then let me find out later when the new menus arrive.”
“Absolutely,” she said. “You’re right. I should have talked to you and I will from now on.”
“Good.” Pam nodded. “That’s good. Now, I’m heading out. I’ve got a line on a new supplier of organic vegetables and—”
Amanda smiled and let her mind wander while her sister rattled off information on local farmers. Her gaze slid across the familiar faces filling the diner, then drifted out to the street beyond the wide glass windows. Main Street in Royal. Sidewalks crowded with early shoppers. Cars parked haphazardly along the curb. The sheriff stepping off the sidewalk, headed for the diner.
Sheriff. Headed for the diner.
Amanda’s heart jumped in her chest. Her mouth went dry and her gaze locked on the one man in the world she couldn’t seem to forget.
Nathan knew it was past time to face Amanda.
He left the sheriff’s office with his deputy, Red Hawkins, in charge and stepped out onto Main Street. The morning was clear and promised another red-hot day. Summer in Texas was already off to a blistering start. The sun was a ball of fire looking to combust.
God, he loved it.
Walking down the sidewalk, his boots clattering out a sharp rhythm, Nathan nodded at those he passed and paused to hold a door for Macy Harris as she struggled to carry a baby and cling to her toddler’s hand.
This was his place. Where he belonged. He’d actually had to leave and spend a few years in Houston as a city cop to figure that out. But now that he was back, Nathan knew he’d never leave Royal again. He’d found his place and damned if he was going to let Amanda Altman make him uncomfortable in it.
He loped across the street, dodging the occasional car, and headed straight for the Royal Diner.
The place was a landmark in town. He could remember going there as a kid with his folks and then later, as a teenager, he’d gathered there with his friends after football games and on long, boring summer afternoons.
It was the unofficial heart of town, which meant that at any time during the day, there would be a crowd inside. A crowd that would watch his and Amanda’s first meeting with interest.
“Well, hell,” he muttered as he marched up to the glass door. “Might as well get it done and let the gossips loose.”
He pulled the door open,