Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily) Read Free Page B

empty.”
    “It’s always on empty when the engine is off.”
    She withdraws and folds her arms. “So start it up.”
    I grit my teeth. I don’t need a mother, and Francine certainly isn’t old enough to fit that bill anyway. Once I finish off the rest of the coffee, I pass the mug back to her. “Thanks for the wake-up call. I’d better get going. And thanks again for dinner last night. I’ll be fine once I get to a bank.” As the idea hit me, I realize it has merit. I don’t have my ID or ATM card, but I know our account number. It could work as long as I don’t have the bad luck to draw a by-the-book teller.
    “Well, until you can get to that bank, you’re coming back inside with me. There’s a bathroom at the back where you can take a hot shower. You got clothes with you?” Before I can answer, she plows on, “Never mind. I’ve got a few things you might be able to wear even though we ain’t exactly the same size.” She yanks open my door a bit further. “Now, are you going in with me, or am I going to have to call Sheriff Madison and report you for trespassing?”
    Damn it. Of all people, why did I have to run into a self-proclaimed guardian angel? But a hot shower did sound nice as did a fresh change of clothes. I drag myself out into the bite of the early morning air, and Francine shuts the door behind me.
    “Fell asleep my ass,” she mutters aloud.
    I traipse after her with as much eagerness as a dog on its way to the vet. “Francine.” I grab her arm before she can open the back door of the diner. “I appreciate your concern. I really do, but I’m fine. Really. I was just tired last night. That’s all.”
    She looks down at my hand holding her arm then back up at my face. “Shower first. Then we’ll talk. We’ve got another couple of hours before the diner opens. I always like to get here early. Good thing I stuck to my routine, huh?” She yanks open the door and waves me inside. “And there’s no more use protesting.”
    She’s made that very clear. I could continue to argue, but I’m bone tired and in need of some warmth. So I walk ahead of her. Inside, the diner is empty and chilly. As the lights start coming on behind me, I move into the back of the kitchen, watching Francine bustle around.
    “The bathroom is on the left, and there’s some towels in the armoire in there. I’ll be right back with something for you to wear. I’ll lock the door behind me.”
    Once I step inside the bathroom, all my complaints disappear. It doesn’t look anything like what I expected to find inside a diner. Instead of utilitarian, this bathroom, with its claw-footed tub, bamboo benches, and plush memory foam rugs, was designed with comfort and aesthetic pleasure in mind.
    I lean in and adjust the ceramic knobs on the tub until the water reaches the right temperature. Once I step into the shower and the hot water starts streaming down my back, I let out a sigh of relief. There’s a new bar of softly-scented soap as well as a bottle of shampoo on the bench next to the tub, and I reach for both. The scent of coconut fills the room when I lather my hair, and I feel like I’m in a luxury spa. As I wash away the dirt and tension, I relax for the first time in almost twenty-four hours. Mark isn’t here now. Not that he won’t come for me, but I can enjoy these moments…until the soap and water saturate the bandage on my thigh, and the instant pain yanks me back to the last night we spent together.
    Wincing, I turn my leg away from the water while wondering what I’m going to do about a new bandage. Hadn’t thought about that when I was in such a hurry to leave. Oh, I’d been packed and ready to go, but things just didn’t turn out the way I thought they would.
    The tiled floor chills my feet when I step out, and I quickly drag the memory foam mat closer. Shivering, I dry myself in record time, carefully patting the bandage in an effort to keep it in place for a little longer, before wrapping