Flamingo Diner

“You don’t really believe that,” Matt argued. “People were here because they care about all of you. Your family’s a real part of this community. Flamingo Diner isn’t just another restaurant. It’s a home away from home for a lot of people. Maybe you can’t appreciate that now, but someday you will.”

“If you think this town is so great, why’d you leave?”

Matt smiled. “For the same reason you did, I imagine. I needed to figure out who I was and how to make something of my life. Once I’d done that, I came back.”

“You came back because you’ve always had the hots for my sister,” Jeff retorted.

“If that were the case, why wouldn’t I have moved to Washington? That’s where she lives these days,” Matt reminded him mildly.

Jeff apparently had no answer for that. But it didn’t stop him from saying, “I know what I know. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“Your sister’s a beautiful woman. Any man who doesn’t take a second look has to be blind.”

Jeff shook his head in disgust. “And Dad always thought you were a straight shooter. You can’t even tell the truth about a little thing like this.”

“Maybe because any feelings I might have for any woman are private,” Matt replied. “That’s a lesson you should learn, kid. Never kiss and tell. Now let’s get on over to the house.”

“I have other plans with my friends.”

“They can wait,” Matt said, his gaze unyielding.

Jeff tried to stare him down, but he was no match for a cop’s steady gaze. “Yeah, whatever,” he said finally.

He started to walk away, but Matt clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“One more thing,” he said. “If these were your real friends, they would have been here today.”

“Like I told Andy, they didn’t even know my dad.”

“But they know you, and they could have come out of respect,” Matt said pointedly. “That’s what real friends do. Maybe you ought to think about that before you get too tight with these people.”

“Lay off, okay?” he said, still defiant. “I’m not a kid and you’re not my boss.”

“Maybe not,” Matt agreed, keeping his gaze perfectly level. He knew how disconcerting that could be when someone had something to hide. “But you step out of line, and I can make you regret it. Your mom and your sister and brother don’t need that kind of grief right now, know what I mean?”

“Whatever,” Jeff said, but he looked just a little shaken.

“I’ll see you at the house, right?” Matt called after him, still not letting up.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jeff said with a one-fingered salute.

Matt forced himself to ignore the gesture. “It’s a ten-minute drive,” he told Jeff. “I’ll give you fifteen before I come looking for you.”

“I said I’d be there,” Jeff said.

Matt nodded slowly. “I’m trusting you to keep you word.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jeff said, but when he climbed into his car, he turned it toward home.

6

Rosa should have felt gratified. There had been so many people at the funeral, so many sincere expressions of sympathy. Every word spoken to her had been filled with very real dismay over her loss. Even the mayor had come by the house to offer his condolences. Though Rosa listened skeptically, for once his remarks seemed to be genuine, rather than calculated for maximum political benefit.

“Don Killian was a tremendous asset to this community,” Owen Habersham said, clasping Rosa’s hand in his. “Whenever I had a problem, I knew I could come to him for clear thinking.”

Rosa had always felt the same way about her husband, had thought he felt the same about her. So why hadn’t Don come to her with whatever devastating problem had been on his mind at the end? She’d always believed there was nothing they couldn’t discuss, nothing they couldn’t work out.

The early years of their marriage had been filled with trials—business struggles, a miscarriage, the loss of his parents, then hers—but they had met each test together. Even before they’d married, there had been a few serious ups and downs. One rift had almost broken them up permanently, but they’d mended it and been stronger than ever.

She sighed at the irony in the mayor’s comment. If her husband had been thinking clearly, would he have killed himself? She was ashamed of his actions, even more ashamed that she hated him for them. One act, one instance of craziness, had destroyed everything she’d felt for him, all the love in her heart. It had turned her into a liar and a hypocrite. She was keeping her suspicions—her certainty—that Don had purposely driven into that lake from the police and, more important, from her family. She simply couldn’t bring herself to add to the devastation that Emma, Jeff and Andy were already feeling. And even now she felt a tremendous sense of loyalty to Don. She wanted to protect his reputation, which was more than he’d seen fit to do when he’d decided to drive into the lake.

Hearing so many people say such nice things should have been gratifying, but it wasn’t. She felt like a fraud, as if she didn’t deserve their sympathy because she was so horribly angry with the man they were bent on praising. Worse, she felt she didn’t deserve any compassion because it was plain to her, at least, that she had let Don down in some real, meaningful way. Why else would her husband take his own life?

“Excuse me,” she said to the mayor, when she could take it no longer. Hurrying from the room, ignoring those who spoke, she made her way to the comparative quiet of the kitchen.

Helen, who’d rarely let Rosa out of her sight, rushed after her. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Can you get these people out of here?” Rosa pleaded. “I’m not sure I can handle it if one more person tells me how wonderful Don was.”

“He was wonderful,” Helen replied, her tone chiding Rosa for thinking otherwise even under the current circumstances.

“I always thought so,” Rosa said, feeling the rage once again begin to build in her chest. “But wonderful people do not suddenly decide to kill themselves one day. They do not abandon their families and leave them with a million questions.”

Helen gasped. “Rosa, what on earth are you saying? Don’s death was an accident. No one’s said otherwise.”

“I know better,” Rosa said. “He drove into that lake on purpose. Nothing else makes sense.”

“Stop that. Stop it right now!” Helen said. “You can’t be saying such a thing. You can’t even think it.”

“I don’t think it. I know it,” Rosa insisted, then sighed. “But you’re right, I can’t say anything to another living soul.” She gazed at her friend. “But I have to talk to someone, Helen, or I’ll go crazy.”

“Then you can talk to me,” Helen said decisively. “If you need to work through this, then you can say whatever you want to me and it will go no further.”

Rosa nodded. “You knew Don. How could he do such a thing?”

“If—and I’m not saying I believe it for a minute—if he committed suicide, then something terrible obviously drove him to it. Anyone can reach a breaking point.”

“Of course they can,” Rosa agreed. “But what was Don’s breaking point? Can you tell me that? Was he having an affair? Did some other woman dump him or threaten to tell me what was going on? Was he sick? Was he trying to spare us months of suffering? Or was he just tired of everyday life with me and the children?”

“I don’t know,” Helen said, looking utterly helpless. “I wish I could give you answers, but I can’t. I can’t even accept the possibility that you might be right. You may have to resign yourself to not knowing.”

“I can’t live with that,” Rosa said angrily. She searched her friend’s face and voiced just one of her fears. “Helen, do you think he was involved with another woman? Someone at the diner, maybe?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Helen scolded. “Don would never have an affair right under your nose. He would never have an affair, period. He loved you. If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that.”

“How do you know that?” Rosa scoffed. “I never thought he’d kill himself, either.”

Helen obviously had no answer for that. She merely returned Rosa’s gaze, her expression distraught.