Free Back to the Good Fortune Diner by Vicki Essex

the other side, beyond a fenced-in area, sat four long, squat greenhouses.
    Tiffany wasn’t sure how big the farm was, exactly—it sloped up and over a hill, covered in large swathes of green and dotted with the occasional worker or animal. It was probably safe to say the Jamiesons owned all the land as far as the eye could see. From what she knew, it was one of the biggest plots in the county.
    Her tires crunched along the gravel as she parked beside a white pickup truck. The scent of hay, earth and animal poo hit her as she got out of the car, and she wrinkled her nose. The wind blew dust against her bare calves and sandal-shod feet, which slipped and caught tiny, painful rocks between her soles. It had been a while since she’d been anywhere without paved sidewalks.
    A loud clatter drew her attention as a tall, middle-aged woman in a trucker cap, red T-shirt and blue jeans strode toward her through a side gate. “Would you be Tiffany Cheung?” she asked in a rough voice.
    She put on what she hoped was a smile. “That’s me.”
    “Chris sent me to bring you into the house and introduce you to his son. He says he’s sorry he can’t be here himself. He’s fixing a fence on the other end of the property and can’t get back in time. I’m Jane Orbach, the farm manager here.”
    They shook hands. Tiffany had to admit she was a little disappointed she wouldn’t get to see Chris. Actually, she was downright crushed. Who else had she dabbed on her Obsession perfume for? “Nice to meet you.” She forced herself to smile.
    “He told me you used to tutor him back in high school.” Jane regarded her curiously. “You don’t look all that old.”
    “I was in the same year as Chris.” She didn’t mention that she’d skipped a grade. That fact had never earned her any allies.
    They started toward the homestead. “I’m glad Chris is doing something about his son. It’s not easy being a single parent. It’s been especially difficult for them, what with Simon’s mother leaving and then William losing his leg.” She glanced at Tiffany to make sure she knew. Tiff nodded. “If I was more inclined, I’d probably be seeing to them myself. But frankly, I have better things to do than to play referee. Word of advice—keep out of their fights and you’ll do all right.”
    Tiffany hummed in agreement. She’d dealt with being stuck in the middle of arguments before.
    “A couple of other things. Will’s on crutches. Unless he asks, never, ever, ever offer to help him with anything. He’s so full of pride, I swear he’ll pop at the seams. Simon can be a little shit, too, sometimes, pardon my French, but don’t let him boss you around. And Chris...” She glanced back over her shoulder toward the fields. Tiffany followed her gaze, saw a faraway speck of color striding across the brown dirt. Even at that distance, she could recognize his broad shoulders and sure gait. “Well, he’s in and out all the time, and his head’s in the clouds a lot. So, if there’s something important you need to tell him, it’s best to write him a note. Maybe pin it to his shirt or something.”
    Tiffany nodded, though she was getting more and more nervous. “Anything else?”
    Jane grinned. “I like mocha lattes from the Grindery. So, if you happen to be passing by on the way over, a large with double espresso and extra foam will sweeten my mood and motivate me to swing by the house to save you if any of these fellas go for your throat.”
    Tiffany gave a weak laugh. What was she getting herself into? “I’ll do my best.”
    They walked into the house through the front door. The foyer led into a large open-concept space that served as living room and dining room. Warm, earthy, masculine colors dominated, mostly tans, grays and hunter-green, and the furniture was bulky, comfortable-looking and thoroughly worn.
    The tiled area in front of the door was cluttered with dirt-crusted boots and running shoes. Outerwear from all four