An Aspen Creek Christmas. Roxanne Rustand
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“Same,” Molly muttered.
“That didn’t take long. Hot-fudge shake and a grilled chicken sandwich for me,” Hannah said without looking at her menu. “Ethan?”
“Cheeseburger and fries. I’ve already got my malt.”
Molly eyed the colorful flashing lights on the pinball machines at the back and gave the waitress a pleading look. “Can we play?”
“Sure. Nice change from all those computer games, if you ask me. Unless someone else comes in and wants a turn, you can play as long as you like.” The waitress grinned. “At least, until your food comes. I’m sure your parents can keep an eye on you from right here.”
Hannah’s gaze flew to Molly—expecting a meltdown over the waitress’s assumption. But the kids launched out of the booth and made a beeline for the bank of pinball machines without a backward glance.
“Whew,” she whispered, her hands clenched on the tabletop. “That was close. I’m finding casual conversations can be quite a minefield with people who aren’t yet aware of our circumstances. I’m sure the word is spreading, but still...”
It would probably be the same in Texas, Ethan realized, though he couldn’t help but think it would be easier if the kids were at least on their home turf. And come to think of it, there would be a few people who could make assumptions. He didn’t know people there anymore except Cynthia and his dad. He’d been gone all of his adult life.
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