When the job was finished, Brynne handed him a fifty-dollar bill and offered her sincere thanks.

Hank looked confused. “What about breakfast?” he asked.

“This is extra,” Brynne said. “How about an early lunch?”

“Mavis packed me a lunch, like she does every morning,” Hank said, reluctantly pocketing the fifty dollars. “Is there anything else that needs doing?”

Brynne smiled. “Not today. But you’d better show up for breakfast tomorrow, or I’ll come looking for you. And bring Mavis—she eats for free, too.”

Hank chuckled and shook his head. “You’re just like your dad,” he said. “Way too generous. With all the people he and Alice used to feed for free, even in the beginning, when they were trying to make a go of this place, Mavis and I used to wonder how they stayed out of the red.”

“I guess the old saying is right,” Brynne replied, with a soft smile. “It’s more blessed to give than to receive.”

“That’s in the Good Book,” Hank recalled.

“I know,” Brynne answered.

Five minutes later, she was in the bedroom she’d reserved for Davey, feeling guilty because her art supplies took up most of the space.

She managed to shift into a better mood by assuring herself that almost three months would pass before Davey and Maddie arrived to spend their spring vacation with her. In the meantime, she would find studio space—somewhere.

For now, she had plenty to keep her busy, between the restaurant, her parents’ imminent return and, of course, Eli.

Time with Eli, considering the demands of his job, was a catch-as-catch-can kind of thing, especially now that he was tying up the remaining loose ends related to the deaths of Tiffany Ulbridge and Freddie Lansing.

Judging by the rising noise level from downstairs, the lull was over and the lunch rush was underway.

Brynne put aside all thoughts of the recently, if not dearly, departed, and returned to the restaurant. In the kitchen, she washed her hands thoroughly and tied on a clean apron.

In her head, she heard her father’s voice. Time to hit the ground running, kiddo. We’re burnin’ daylight!

She was still smiling when she entered the serving section of the restaurant and came face-to-face with the last person on earth she would have expected to see.

Clay Nicholls sat alone at a table in the center of the room, holding a menu and pretending to be absorbed in the selections.

The lunchtime chatter, so lively only moments before, died away completely when Brynne came in.

She stopped as suddenly as if she’d run smack into an invisible force field, blinked a couple of times, devoutly hoped she was hallucinating.

She wasn’t.

Clay was there. Live and in person.

Shit.