Page 17 of A Very Merry Mistake

“This menu has three hundred items on it. I’m used to having four or five options. It’s like a buffet on paper.”

“There’s not a bad choice. It’s why the menu hasn’t changed since the day the place opened in 1977. Dorothy, her daughter, will take ownership when Glenda finally retires.”

She holds up her hand. “No.”

I give her a look.

“She named her daughter Dorothy?” Claire’s brows furrow. “I’m not that gullible.”

A chuckle escapes me. “I’m not making it up.”

“So Dorothy will inherit this place?”

“Yep. That’s how it usually works around here. Generational wealth is passed down. People tend to appreciate and trust those who have kept things in the family. I guess it’s a small-town thing.”

The same expression I saw on her face earlier returns, but for just a split second. “Sounds like it.”

I pour the cool cream in to my mug and add two spoonfuls of sugar before lifting it to my lips and sipping. It’s warm and immediately brings my body temperature up as I hold it in my cold palms.

Claire blows on the top of hers before taking a tiny sip.

“No cream? No sugar? Are you the ax murderer?”

She smirks. “I’m all business.”

“Apparently. Also, Glenda has a little dog, too.”

“Please, no.” She grins wide.

“Can you guess his name?” I take another sip of my drink.

“I’m literally dying. But honestly, it’s so damn adorable.”

“It really is. It’s a whole theme. I guess the Wizard of Oz was popular when she was young, so she dug into it. If you can’t change the hand you’re given, you learn to go with the flow. Her husband literally looks like the Cowardly Lion with his long beard and hair.”

“I love it,” she says with a delighted grin. “It’s clever.”

“It really is.”

Moments later, Glenda returns with a coffee carafe and refills my mug as she takes our order. She doesn’t need a notepad. The woman can remember phone numbers from forty years ago.

“I’m gonna have a bacon cheeseburger with mayo, lettuce—”

“Onions on Texas toast. Got it.” She glances at Claire.

“I can’t make up my mind,” she finally tells Glenda. “Can you surprise me?”

“Any allergies?”

“Only to shitty men,” Claire mumbles, and Glenda nods.

“So are you a savory or sweet gal?” Glenda asks.

“Both?” Claire shrugs.

“I’ve got you, sweetie. I know just the thing.”

“Can I keep this menu? I want to finish reading it,” Claire asks, a hint of blush on her cheeks.

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