EIGHT
SIX YEARS LATER. OCTOBER.
The door to Second Breakfast opened. A bell jingled.
“Morning, boss,” Dana called out. She stood behind the counter wrapping silverware into paper napkins. Tall with short blond hair, she looked almost too slim in the maroon Second Breakfast polo, black skirt, and small black and white checkered apron.
Second Breakfast sat at the northern end of Lake Avenue on a small lot in what was known as Charlotte. Locals pronounced it Shar-Lot. Not Shar-lette.
For countless decades the place had once been a hamburger place known as LDR Char-Pit. Using his life savings, Alan “Tubs” Sauers put all of his eggs into one basket because he believed the location ideal and bought the establishment. That was nearly fifteen years ago.
“Tubs, Dana. Tubs.” The large man shoo
