Chapter 6: Guess Who's Paying

The Anchor Diner sat at the marina with a crooked sign and eight booths.

By noon all six of us were in one of them.

I did not want to be there, and Wes had said, "You don't have to," and I had said, "I know," and slid in anyway.

I wanted to watch them try to pay for things.

Wes sat beside me, and his thigh was a warm line along mine that he never moved.

Across the table, Meg and Brooke had the gray faces of two people who had slept badly in a motel.

Josh stirred his coffee, and Lacey smiled at the menu.

The waitress took our orders and told Wes it was good to see him home.

He said it was good to be home, and he looked at me when he said it.

Brooke put her phone face down on the table.

"So we were thinking," she said. "Flights back are four hundred eighty each. One way. We checked."

"That's a lot," Meg said.

"It's more than a lot," Brooke said. "Nora, we didn't know you'd go that far."

"I booked them. They were mine to cancel."

"We just need you to put the seats back."

"No."

She stared.

"That's it? No?"

"It's the whole sentence."

Meg tried it next, with her big wet eyes.

"Nor, come on. It's me. I held your hair at my sister's wedding."

"You did. And then you told me at the gate you thought I'd guess."

"I was nervous!"

"You laughed."

Meg looked down at her plate.

Lacey set her menu aside, and her smile came on bright and fast.

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