Clara’s pov
Marnie set a plate of eggs and toast in front of me before the diner even opened.
“Eat,” she said. “You’re running on coffee and stubbornness again.”
I pulled the plate closer. “I ate last night.”
“Leftover soup doesn’t count. Sit.”
I sat. The kitchen was still quiet, just the low hiss of the grill warming up and the smell of fresh coffee. I ate without arguing.
The eggs were good. Everything Marnie cooked was good when she decided you needed it.
She leaned against the counter and watched me for a second. “You been sleeping?”
“Enough.”
“Liar. You’ve got that look again. The one you get when something’s chewing on you.”
I shrugged and kept eating. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the tips from last week. I want to put more away.”
Marnie nodded like that made sense. “Go
