Once More, at Midnight by Wendy Warren

Author:Wendy Warren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2007-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Even at the height of the lunch hour, the diner was over half-empty, so taking a booth was no problem. And they still had enough privacy for Lilah to ask the questions most on her mind.

“So why the diner, Gus?” Mostly to give her hands something to do, she unwrapped a paper-covered straw and stuck it in her chocolate shake while he turned a plastic container upside down and squirted catsup onto the plate of onion rings. “Have you had food service experience?”

“No. I bought Ernie’s because it’s the social hub of this town.”

“‘Social hub’?” For the first time in weeks she laughed simply because something was funny.

His lips curved. Glancing around, he lowered his voice pointedly. “Okay, I use the term loosely.” He dunked an onion ring in catsup and took a bite. “Still, other than the tavern it is the town’s main gathering place.”

“And this was appealing to you all of a sudden…why?”

“It wasn’t sudden. I bought a sizeable piece of land a few years ago even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to return for good until this year. Now I’m putting a home and a business on the property.”

Lilah shook her head. It was still so hard to fathom Gus returning to Kalamoose for good, as he’d said. “What kind of business?”

“I’m building a food production plant and gift store.” When her eyes widened, he visibly warmed to the topic. “We’re going to carry products exclusively made in the Dakotas—Native American handicrafts, and books on the Lakota and early German settlers. Foods from classic farm and Native American recipes.”

He lowered his voice a notch. “Eventually this diner will function as a tie-in to the store. The menu will feature the foods we’re selling. The decor will reflect the cultural diversity of the area.”

“Cultural diversity? In Kalamoose?”

“There’s always been plenty of diversity. Unfortunately it was repressed instead of honored. Lakota or European, we’ve all left our marks.”

“And you want the marks to show.”

“Yes.”

He was staring at her levelly, and she smiled, because in that moment she saw both his more turbulent Germanic and the more enigmatic Lakota roots. She heard the pride in his voice, but it was difficult, almost impossible, to read him when he shuttered his expression, as he did now. He waited for her response.

In truth, she was proud of him. “I’ve never heard anyone plan so much for this little town. It sounds like you’ll create a lot of jobs.”

He nodded and she glimpsed the satisfaction behind his eyes.

It sounded, too, as if he either had a lot of backers or had amassed a small fortune to put toward his new endeavor. Either way, this wasn’t the dirt-poor kid whose big dream had been escape. He’d once said he would take any job he had to as long as it was in a big city.

“I don’t get it, though,” she confessed. “You couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

“No. I couldn’t stand to stay. It’s not the same thing.”

She frowned. “You’ve lost me.

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