Chapter 193 Just In Time For Lunch
By the time they reached the little township, the hour had slid neatly into lunchtime.
Quinn asked softly, “Do you think you’ll be able to get used to the food in a tiny diner like this?”
Julius answered without hesitation, “There’s nothing I can’t get used to.” He had gone several days with nothing to eat before; back then, even a dirty crust of bread had seemed like a feast.
Quinn went on, “There’s a little diner I used to visit all the time. I’m not even sure it’s still open, but every time our family came into town, we always ate there together.”
As the words left her mouth, she could not stop a bitter smile from tugging at her lips.
“Then let’s go,” Julius said. “I’ll go with you.”
She blinked in surprise, then smiled. <That’s right, I’m not going alone this time–he’s coming with me.>
The car rolled to a stop in front of the little diner’s entrance.
The place was still there, almost exactly as Quinn remembered it from five years ago; only the owner looked a little older.
“It’s Quinn, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you in years–how have you been?” The owner recognized her at a glance.
“I’ve been well,” Quinn replied with a small smile.
“What about your mom, your dad, and your brother? Didn’t they come with you?” the owner asked.
Quinn’s eyes dimmed. “They didn’t come back this time. I’m here alone, taking care of a few things.”
“Oh, I see. Well, have a seat first and decide what you’d like to eat.” The owner ushered them in.
Julius and Quinn sat down. Julius’s gaze drifted to one wall of the cozy dining room, where dozens of Polaroid snapshots were pinned in neat rows. Each photo showed different faces, taken right here in the diner–happy customers capturing a memory.
“Those photos are sort of a check–in tradition,” Quinn explained. “A lot of guests take a picture and stick it on the wall.”
“Do you have one up there, too?” Julius asked, genuinely intrigued.
beside me is my brother.”
“I do.” Quinn pointed to a particular snapshot. “See? That’s me, and the person beside me is
Following the direction of her finger, Julius found the photo. The instant his eyes landed on the tall yet finely featured man standing next to Quinn, his expression shifted almost imperceptibly. “That’s your brother?”
“Yes, that’s Rowan,” Quinn said, failing to notice Julius’s sudden tension. “Rowan and I don’t look much alike, do we? I take after my father, Montague; my brother looks more like our mother, Arlene.”
Julius pressed his thin lips together, his gaze heavy on the photograph of the broad–shouldered, refined- looking man.
He had long known that her brother was missing–had even ordered his subordinates to look for Rowan’s
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