Without warning, he knocked the tray from her hand, and the wine and bruschetta splattered all over the cream-colored carpet.

“I work all day, and you think some tomato on bread is enough to fill me? Why isn’t the roast ready? Did you go out with your friends again today? How many times do I have to tell you to make sure you’re home in plenty of time to get dinner on the table?”

The woman cowered as he pulled his hand back. I shook my head, trying to break free from this scene. I didn’t want to see any more. The woman’s scream rang in my ears as my vision went black. It was over.

I was breathing heavily, and I slumped forward onto the counter. The guy I’d killed had been awful, unbearable. He was sexist and vile. He hit his wife. A small part of me was glad he’d never get to hit her again. Glad that she’d be free.

“You okay?”

I looked up to see the reflection of a girl with jet-black hair. I jumped and turned around to face her.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I stared at her, happy that my sight was my own again. Her eyes bored into me. They were almost cat-like. They looked really eerie, probably because she had bleached-blonde eyebrows. I doubted a single hair on this girl’s face or head was her natural color.

“I thought I was alone.”

“Yeah, you were pretty zoned out. I thought you were having a fit or something.”

“I’m fine. Thanks.” I turned back to the mirror and fussed with my hair. I had to look together so Ethan didn’t think something was wrong.

The girl eyed me for a minute before leaving. I sighed. I had to get a hold of myself. Whatever was happening to me, I had to find a way to deal with it. If Ethan knew what was going on, it would crush him—it was already destroying me. I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves and walked back to the table.

The food was already there, and Ethan was shoveling it in. I smiled when I saw a triangular piece missing from my waffle.

“Sorry,” Ethan said, looking all innocent. “It looked really good. I gave you some eggs though. You said you couldn’t decide between a waffle or eggs, so now you have both.”

“Thanks.” I smiled at him. No. No way could I tell him any of this. I’d figure it out on my own.

The bell above the door jingled, and a police officer walked in. He went right to the counter, where Gloria met him with a cup of coffee. “Late night, huh?” she asked him.

“You said it.” He sat down on a stool, and he and Gloria talked for a few minutes. I couldn’t hear a word, but I didn’t need to. This was about the guy I’d killed. This was probably the officer who’d found the car and reported the “accident.” I sipped my coffee, not that the caffeine was going to ease the sinking feeling in my stomach. Even after the cop said goodbye to Gloria and walked out of the diner, I was still on edge.

Gloria approached with the coffee pot and tsked as she refilled our cups.

“Was that about the car we saw on the way here?” Ethan asked.

She nodded. “Bad one, too. Officer Crawford said the guy must have had a massive stroke while he was driving. They identified him by his license, but when they called his wife at the resort where they were staying, she said he looked years older. More wrinkles, balding, and what was left of his hair was completely gray. The paramedics said strokes can age a person quite a bit, but even this was beyond anything they’d ever seen.”

The few bites of waffle I’d manage to get down were on their way back up. I couldn’t listen to this. I was the only one who knew the truth. The ugly, horrible truth.

“Was he from around here?” Ethan asked.

“No. He was a tourist. I think his name was Herman Owlander,” Gloria said.

Ethan cringed. “Awful name.”

“Awful man, too, if you ask me.” Gloria put the coffee pot down on the table and leaned toward us. She looked around before whispering, “He and his wife came in here earlier in the week. He was ordering her around like she was a servant. I’m telling you, I was tempted to pour a pot of scalding hot coffee all over his unmentionable parts. Not that I’m saying I’m glad he’s dead, but there’s something to be said for getting what you deserve. If you treat people like that and show no regard for other living beings, well, sooner or later, karma is gonna come around to bite you in the ass.”

Ethan laughed, but I couldn’t. Gloria was right. Herman obviously didn’t care how he treated other people, even his own wife. The universe had given him what he deserved.

I wondered what the universe had in store for me.

WHEN we finished breakfast, Gloria took me up to the counter to give me a tutorial on how to be a waitress. She said there was nothing to being a busboy, so Ethan said he’d go food shopping and get a few other things we needed for the cottage.

“I’ll pick you up in about an hour.” He looked at Gloria. “Will that be long enough?”

“Depends. Do you want to start making money today? Because I could sure use some help with the lunch crowd.”

I shrugged. “Why not?” I had to keep my mind busy, or I’d go insane.

“Should I come back for lunch to start my shift?” Ethan asked.

“The crowd usually starts in around eleven-thirty. See you then.” Gloria practically pushed Ethan out the door. “Don’t you worry about our girl. I’ll take care of her.”

I gave Ethan a smile. “See you soon.”

He nodded and left.

“So, I guess you should tell me your name,” Gloria said. “Got to know who to make the checks out to.”

My name? I hadn’t gotten my fake ID yet. I hadn’t even thought about a new last name. I must’ve looked terrified because Gloria gave me a stern look.

“You aren’t in any trouble, are you?”

“No. It’s just that I don’t have a bank account to cash checks.”

“Oh, well those are easy enough to open up, but I’ll tell you what. Until you get settled and open that account, I’ll pay you in cash. How does that sound?”

“Great. Thanks.”

“But I do need to know what to call you.”

“Sam. My name’s Sam.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a Samantha.”

“Well, actually, I don’t go by my full name. I prefer Sam.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “How does your mother feel about you using a boy’s name instead of the one she gave you?”

I tried to keep my composure at the mention of Mom. I missed her so much. Not that I’d ever consider trying to contact her. She needed to move on, get over my death. And me showing up now—an undead killer—would destroy her.

“You do have a mother, don’t you? Or did I just put my big, overworked foot in my mouth?”

“Not anymore,” I said. “But it’s okay. She never minded me going by Sam.”

“Well all the same, I think I’ll call you Samantha.”

I figured there was no use arguing with her. She’d given me a job and was willing to pay me in cash. How could I complain?

I followed Gloria around all morning, learning the ins and outs of the ancient coffee pot, carrying plates of food to all the tables, and refilling the sugar dispensers. By eleven, I was exhausted. But it was a good exhausted. Keeping busy meant I didn’t have time to think.

The door to the diner opened, and the girl from the bathroom walked in. What was she doing back again? She took a seat at the counter right in front of me as I put out a new tray of mammoth muffins.

“Twice in one day?” I asked.

“Excuse me?” She looked at me like she didn’t recognize me.

“You were here earlier. In the bathroom.” Did she really not remember me? I would’ve thought my display in the ladies’ room would be burned into her memory.

“Oh, right.” She sounded completely disinterested.

“What can I get for you?”

“Coffee. Black.”

I grabbed a mug and poured the freshly brewed coffee. I breathed in the heavenly scent. Gloria had shown me the secret ingredient. A tablespoon of cinnamon. It smelled divine, yet the taste was so subtle you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.