Page 42 of Bennett

She let the lid fall shut with a hollow clang and quickly unlocked the back door, bolting it behind her as she stepped inside. The diner was dark and quiet, the overhead lights still off and the silence too heavy. Normally, she found comfort in opening the diner. The solitude before the buzz of the breakfast rush was nice, but today?

Today, it felt like walking into a held breath.

She flipped on the lights and got the coffee brewing in both the diner and the kitchen before she headed for the breakroom. Might as well make coffee in there too, while she waited for Belinda to arrive.

The moment she stepped inside, she froze.

There was a piece of paper taped to the side of the fridge. Just a plain white sheet with a short message printed out in thick black font.

“It’s never too late to walk away. Some things aren’t worth the risk.”

She stared at it for a long moment, heart drumming against her ribs.

It wasn’t signed. Not dated. Just…left there. Bold, deliberate, and slightly crooked, like whoever had taped it up didn’t care how neat it looked.

It hadn’t been there yesterday.

Laurel swallowed hard. The breakroom was usually a safe space filled with leftover pie slices, worn-out mugs, and faded family photos. Not cryptic notes with stalker vibes.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe someone from one of the other shifts had put it there as a motivation quote.

Yeah. And maybe hand sanitizer made a good weapon.

She pulled out her phone, snapped a quick photo of the note, then exited the room with nerves prickling her shoulders.

A minute after she finished unlocking the front and flipping the “Closed” sign to “Open,” the bell over the door jingled.

It was early—too early for regular customers. Which made the smile on Duke Carver’s face all the more unsettling.

“Laurel,” he said, warm and polite as ever. “Didn’t expect to see you opening up. Thought Annie still had you wrangled into kitchen duty.”

She forced a smile. “We rotate. Keeps me humble.”

And the guy wasn’t all that observant. He’d seen her waiting tables just yesterday.

Duke chuckled and leaned one arm on the counter, glancing around the empty dining room. “Smells good in here already. I’d like a coffee to go.”

She nodded. “Coming right up.”

“Place always had charm,” he said. “Bet it’ll carry through next door. It’s really starting to shape up.”

Her stomach twisted again, but she kept her voice light as she poured coffee into a to-go cup. “We’re hoping to have everything up and running before the fall. Some spaces sooner than others.”

“Good for you,” he said, then added casually, “Hope it’s worth all the trouble.”

There it was.

Something about the way he said it—not quite sarcastic, not quite sincere—sent a chill right down her spine. But before she could respond, the front door opened again and two more regulars stepped inside, giving her the excuse she needed to break away from the conversation.

Duke slapped a large bill on the counter, gave her a wink and tipped an imaginary hat before heading out.

She exhaled.

That was odd. Or was she just seeing things that weren’t there?

As the door closed behind Duke, the familiar click of heels signaled Belinda’s arrival through the back, already tying on her apron with practiced ease.

How the woman managed an eight-hour shift in heels was beyond Laurel. A good supportive pair of sneakers were her go-to shoes, otherwise she’d be wrestling leg cramps all night.

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