“They could have eaten back at the Winnie, but they were chasing down their little mystery today, so bacon and eggs seemed about right by way of fortification. Plus he wanted to get Anna out of the barge, help her reconnect spiritually with her long-lost hometown—a fucking challenge on this strip crammed with mini-marts and 1960s motels. At least the diner hinted at a serious lineage, with its shiny pine walls and leatherette booths. “You know,” he said. “This coulda been here when you were ...here.” “ ’Fraid not,” said Wren as she held up the menu for Anna to peruse. “Nineteen forty-eight. Says so here on the back.” “Well, that’s pretty old,” he offered, somewhat deflated. “I was in Minneapolis by then,” Anna told him sweetly. “With a wife and a four-year-old daughter.” “Ah . . . right.” Anna gave him one of her private nice-try benedictions and turned back to Wren.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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