Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“She’s not going to get anything from me behaving like this.” But he frowns as he seems to process my words.
I leave him to his thoughts as we walk another block in silence, following my phone’s directions to the diner on the corner. “This is the address.” The exterior is painted black and a neon sign above reads Breakers with a little monster holding pancakes on his fork. “And it’s definitely where she came last time.” It’s a busy area, with cars crawling along the street and pedestrians rushing by.
Henry holds the front door, waiting for me. I step into the warmth, inhaling the delicious scents of brewing coffee and frying bacon. It’s a simple and clean place with a mix of brown leather-wrapped booths and white tables, the sections divided by half walls. Glass globe lights dangle to cast a warm glow. Several TVs are mounted on a back wall clad with white subway tile, the screens playing football highlights ahead of the day’s games.
I nudge Henry and point to the dark-haired girl sitting by herself at a booth by the window. “That’s her.” I recognize her profile immediately.
Henry moves to charge forward.
I grab his forearm. “Maybe give her grandparents a call first so they can stop worrying?” And so Henry has a moment to collect his calm.
His jaw tenses but he doesn’t argue, retrieving his phone from his pocket. He hits redial on Howard and Gayle’s home number. “Hi, it’s Henry. We found her and she’s safe … yes … yes … I’ll let you know.” He ends the call.
“She came here for a reason,” I remind him, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze, but also one of warning. And I have a sneaking suspicion that reason is him. “Listening first might work better.”
His chest rises with a deep breath but when he heads for her this time, he doesn’t look like a charging bull. “Mind if we join you?”
His voice is calm but Violet jumps, anyway, her wide eyes darting from Henry to me, and back again. “How did you find me?”
He takes that as acceptance, gesturing at the opposite bench. I slide in, and Henry sinks in beside me, his thigh pressed against mine. The booth isn’t meant for more than two people, but we can make it work. At least this allows him to face his daughter.
I hold my breath, equal parts curious and dreading how this exchange will go. I can’t see Henry handling teenage rebellion well.
“So what? You’re so rich, you have someone following me?” she mutters, the initial surprise at seeing us fading quickly, replaced by snarky armor. She jabs at a pancake with her fork. Based on the countless holes through them, she’s been at this for a while.
Henry stalls for several seconds before answering coolly, “Yes. A robotic eye that tells me everywhere you go.”
“I haven’t seen it.” Stab, stab, stab.
“That’s because it’s invisible. And it flies.”
She matches his stony expression. “An invisible flying robotic eye. That’s creepy.”
“So is you suggesting that I’ve paid someone to spy on you,” he retorts, with more than a hint of annoyance.
Violet’s lips twitch. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was suppressing a smile.
“Your grandparents called me this morning, looking for you. They’re beside themselves with worry.”
She tugs at her collar, but she doesn’t respond.
“You can’t take off like that and you definitely can’t take a train to New York City whenever you damn well please. You’re fifteen.”
“And remind me, what were you doing at fifteen?” Her beautiful blue eyes—the same color as his, though not the same shape—flash with challenge.
He grinds his teeth, and I’m afraid of what will come out of his mouth next.
I smooth a hand over Henry’s thigh beneath the table. “They told us about your house going up for sale,” I cut in, hoping to steer the conversation back to safety. “That’s the house you’ve grown up in, right?”
After a beat, Violet nods.
“It must be hard for you to have to give it up.”
“It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming.” She goes back to her pancake stabbing.
“But you were still upset when the agent came by.”
“You mean Barbara?” She scowls. “Some friend.”
“The real estate agent was Audrey’s friend?” Henry asks, calm again.
Violet hesitates, as if deciding whether she wants to acknowledge his question at all. “Her best friend. Back when things started to go downhill for my mom, Barbara offered to sell the house when the time came.” She focuses on a strip of crispy bacon, twirling it this way and that between her fingertips. It looks like she’s touched—or stabbed—everything on her plate, but I don’t think she’s eaten any of it.
“Well, isn’t this snug.” A waitress with round cheeks sidles up next to our table. “Can I get you something?”
“Coffee, please. One black, one with cream and sugar,” Henry orders for me.