CHAPTER
13
As usual, the Iron Skillet was jam-packed with diners when I arrived the following morning at seven in hopes of speaking with Lucinda before Ginger arrived. Listening to the babble of conversation and laughter overlaid by the clanking of silverware and dishes, I inhaled the mouthwatering aroma of frying bacon and freshly brewed coffee. I wove my way between the tables smiling and waving at people’s friendly greetings and responding to their curious inquiries about my bandaged chin, before heading to the counter where Lucinda chatted amiably with customers while she topped off their coffee cups.
“Do you have a minute to talk?” I asked when she finally glanced in my direction.
“Hang on,” she said, her brown eyes reflecting curiosity tinged with a quick flash of concern.
