Anthony stared down at the check, bright beneath the lamplight’s glow, and wiped a tear from his face. Thirteen thousand dollars. That was a whole lot of money to leave a guy who wasn’t even family. He wondered how much the man had left those who were family.

At the thought, a vision of Kira Moretti came to mind. Dang, she’d grown into those big brown eyes. If he’d have worked up the nerve to say hello at the funeral, would the brunette have remembered him? Probably not. It’d been years since he’d seen her stroll into the diner with her granddad.

Anthony had always looked forward to seeing the cute girl each summer. The two would often sneak off and get into some sort of mischief. Chasing frogs along the grassy trail. Collecting grasshoppers and caterpillars in jars. Of course, one of those visits was more memorable than the rest. What were they, ten—no—eleven. Still, he hadn’t forgotten. How could he? It was his first kiss.

A spark lit up low in his belly as he recalled the way she’d taken hold of his hand, dragged him across the back alley and toward Lakeview Park.

“Throw in a rock and you’ll get a wish,” she told him. Anthony knew he’d catch the wrath from his dad for leaving, but it was hard to say no to someone like Kira. Spunky, carefree, and unafraid of consequences. That’s what made her stand out most—he’d known plenty of kids who didn’t think twice about what punishment might come their way. But they were operating under ignorance. Kira, on the other hand, knew dang well what would happen if she snuck off without telling her parents; she’d told him as much on their way back to the diner.

“My dad’s going to kill me,” she said with a grin. “He gets furious when I run off without telling anyone.”

“So why do you do it?” he couldn’t help but ask.

She shrugged, then pushed the black wisps of her hair from her face. “Why not? They already know I’m going to. Marissa’s the obedient one. Not me.”

It stood out to him, even then, that she seemed to “know her place.” She’d been labeled, and she planned to live up to it. As an only child, Anthony never knew what it was like to be compared to a sibling. But the idea of having someone to measure up to … he could see how that could play tricks on a kid’s head.

She’d owned a soft spot in his heart ever since. He wanted to know how much she’d changed over the years. He wanted to know if he’d ever see her again. But more than that, he wanted to smack himself upside the head for not approaching her at the funeral, to offer his condolences at least. But leave it to Kira to be the only one not standing beside the casket to receive people. Off doing her own thing. Perhaps she hadn’t changed much after all.

In a blink, he was back at the water’s edge. Preparing to toss in his rock.

“Get it past the row of cattail and you get a wish.”

Anthony gave her a look. “Who says?”

Kira shrugged. “Everyone.”

He palmed the soft, gray stone in his hand. It was heavy and nearly as big as his fist. He should’ve picked a smaller one, but it was too late now. With a determined breath, eyes focused on the cattail swaying in the sunlight, he reared his arm back and hurled the stone toward the glistening water.

The pale gray orb spun as it soared up and barely beyond the tall, golden plants. It hit a dry sprig of one, even, before plopping into the pond.

“You did it!” She jumped in place twice before taking a hold of his shirt with her fists and pulling him close. At once, her lips were on his.

Anthony froze. Waiting for his body to catch up with the realization. Kiss her back, his mind pled, but she pulled back before he could.

She patted his shoulder. “You get a kiss if you hit one of the cattails. I forgot to tell you that part.”

Anthony nodded. “So I still get a wish?”

“Yep,” she said with a grin.

“What if my wish is to get another kiss?”

Kira shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to see if it comes true. Come on.” She grabbed his hand once more. “We better get back.”

Anthony sank deeper into his office chair, the old wheels squeaking beneath the shift in weight. Cracks along both armrests threatened to pinch his skin if he forgot himself, which he did daily. He glanced down at the check on the desk once more. Anthony would put Angelo Moretti’s money to use just how he’d taught him. “Make your money earn money; it’s the way of the wise man.” Anthony had already put that into practice. Still, before he invested Angelo’s gifted sum, Anthony would allow himself one luxury, he decided, as the seat let out another groan. Something he’d been denying himself for a very long time: a new office chair.

He hadn’t meant to let it happen, but Anthony’s mind drifted back to the funeral, Kira standing behind the pulpit, her wide eyes rimmed in red. For a woman as proud as she seemed to be, she’d appeared vulnerable in that moment. Even in recollection, the sincerity of her words struck a spot inside Anthony. That undying drive to be good enough. The desperation to prove yourself worthy in someone else’s eyes. He related to that. But the woman he’d tried to impress—or gain the attention of, at least—had abandoned him long, long ago. If only the hope for her return could’ve vanished so quickly.

While giving in to a yawn, Anthony captured the gold pull chain on his desk lamp between two fingers and gave it a tug. He hunkered into the worn seat as darkness took over. He missed Dad. Attending Mr. Moretti’s funeral had brought back some of the pain. Probably because the kind old man had treated him like a son—or grandson, was more like it.

He thought back on the day after Dad’s burial, when he’d stepped into the diner to prep for the day. Angelo showed up just a few minutes after he’d unlocked the place and flicked the lights on. At first Anthony thought he was there for an early cup of coffee or maybe to grab a stack of hotcakes before the place officially opened. But the old man surprised him by strapping on an apron, washing up, and asking how he could help. How—not if.

His presence had been such a welcome kindness that Anthony hadn’t been able to say no. It wasn’t that he couldn’t prep the diner on his own; he’d done that for years, and Angelo knew it. But his father had always been sitting in that corner booth, a mug of coffee at his side, going over numbers with a stack of receipts and his printable calculator. A task Anthony had since moved to the close of each day, rather than the beginning; he liked going to bed knowing where he stood. How much his employees made in tips. How much overhead he had to work with. Business had been good to him. But even still, he would forever miss the sound of Dad tapping out numbers from the corner booth in the early morning light.

Anthony shuffled out of his office, keying in on the spot of light glowing from above the kitchen sink. Thank heavens winter was on its way out. As much as he enjoyed the snow, the cozy comfort of a warm fire on a winter’s night, Anthony wasn’t a fan of the shortened hours of daylight. Or the darkness that reached well into the morning and arrived way too soon each day. An uninvited guest who came and went as it pleased. He poured himself a tall glass of milk and tipped it back as his mind drifted to a different sort of guest: the brown-eyed girl who’d caught his attention once more. The chances of him seeing her again were slim now that Angelo had passed, which meant he may just have to take action himself. Whether he had to get on social media or ask Gordon for the man’s emergency contact numbers, Anthony knew he should try and see Kira Moretti again.