She clamps her lips together, and gives me a small nod, standing aside to let me through.

The first thing I lay eyes on is the fridge, covered in Amelia’s artwork. There are so many pictures of two stick people, one smaller than the other, hand in hand. All she seems to have had is her mother.

“Do you want a coffee?” Delaney asks. “I was just making one.”

“Sounds great.”

“Amelia’s not here. She’s having a sleepover with a friend tonight and I’ve already dropped her off.”

I nod. “It’s probably good that she’s not.”

Delaney hesitates, then nods too. “Go through to the living room and I’ll bring you a coffee in a minute.”

She points at a door, and I walk through to a cosy room which again is adorned with Amelia’s artwork. These must be the pictures that are special to her because there’s a wall full of framed pictures, with photos of the two of them in between.

If my instincts are right, I missed all this, and I swallow hard just thinking about it.

“How do you take it?” she calls. “Sorry, I can’t make you a latte. It’s instant.”

“White, one sugar.”

It’s a moment later that she walks through, coming to a stop beside me.

“There are some beautiful photos here of the two of you.” I can’t stop looking. Amelia laughing with her mother, hugging her, kissing her—it’s all there.

“This is our memory wall. Every so often, Amelia has a drawing that she’s worked extra hard on, and we hang it up.”

“You need a bigger wall.” I smile as she hands me a mug.

“One day.” She turns and sits on the sofa. I join her, looking around the rest of the room. Amelia’s everywhere, from the toy pile in the corner, to the discarded pink jacket on one of the chairs.

I take a sip of coffee. “That hits the spot.”

“Whoever thought. Josh Carter, Hollywood superstar, in my living room drinking instant coffee.”

Shrugging, I smile. “Coffee is coffee. I’ve drunk far worse than this. I always did like the way you made it.”

“This is pretty different to that old coffee machine I used to have to slap into submission.” She laughs. “Having a decent machine that didn’t need a kicking every day was one of my top priorities when I started the diner.”

“Is it doing well? Your business, that is.”

She nods. “We have a lot of local regulars, and pick up quite a bit of the tourist trade. It’s not huge, but it’s enough.”

“I’m glad. Ever thought of extending your hours for visitors who want food in the evenings?” I shoot her a sly grin.