Lin continued to ponder her life as she walked down the sidewalk toward a line of waiting taxis. After ten years of working at Jack’s Diner, when she’d learned that Jack and Irma were considering closing the place, she’d come up with a plan. Though she’d skimped and saved most of her life, for once she was about to splurge and do something so out of character that Jack had thought she’d taken temporary leave of her senses. She’d offered him a fifty-thousand-dollar down payment, a cut of the profits, and a promissory note on the balance if they would sell her the diner. It took all of two minutes for Jack and Irma to accept her offer. Since they’d never had children and didn’t think they’d have a chance in hell of selling the diner given the local economy, closing the doors had seemed their only option.

Lin laughed.

She’d worked her tail off day and night and most weekends to attract a new clientele, a younger crowd with money to burn. She’d applied for a liquor license and changed the menu to healthier fare while still remaining true to some of the comfort foods Jack’s was known for, such as his famous meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Within a year, Jack’s was booked every night of the week, and weekends months in advance. From there, she started catering private parties. With so much success, she’d decided it was time to add on to the diner. In addition to two large private banquet rooms that would accommodate five hundred guests when combined, she added three moderately sized private rooms for smaller groups. The remodeling was in its final stages when she’d left for New York the day before. She’d left Sally, her dearest friend and manager, in charge of last-minute details.

Lin quickened her pace as she saw that the line of taxis at the end of the block had dwindled down to three. She waved her hand in the air to alert the cabbie. Yanking the yellow-orange door open, she slid inside, where the smell of stale smoke and fried onions filled her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “The Helmsley Park Lane.” She’d always wanted to say that to a New York cab driver. Though it wasn’t the most elite or expensive hotel in the city, it was one that had captured her imagination over the years. Its infamous owner, known far and wide by the well-deserved epithet the Queen of Mean, had been quite visible in the news media when Lin was younger, especially when she’d been tried and convicted for tax evasion, extortion, and mail fraud, and had died just over a week before.

Through blasts of horns, shouts from sidewalk vendors hawking their wares, and the occasional bicyclist weaving in and out of traffic, Lin enjoyed the scenery during the quick cab ride back to the hotel. New York was unlike any city in the world. Of course, she hadn’t traveled outside the state of Georgia, so where this sudden knowledge came from, she hadn’t a clue, but still she knew there was no other place like New York. It had its own unique everything, right down to the smell of the city.