"Mayor Stringham, if you'd eat more vegetables, you'd be more regular." The elderly woman's voice carried over the muted conversations of the other diners.

Janie Lowell almost dumped the plate piled high with biscuits and gravy into her customer's lap when she overheard the suggestion caroled out much like one would discuss the weather.

"Sissy! Honestly. What a thing to say to our fine mayor."

"It's true!" The woman crowed. "Look at his expression. I'm telling you, he needs more roughage in his diet."

"Never mind them," the man told Janie. He winked. "Sissy Peters is always worried that everyone in town is constipated. You should hear them at Flannagan's Market."

Janie blinked. Even after living here for a couple of months, the open friendliness of Glen Meadow astounded her. A tough couple of months, as she lived off the minuscule savings she'd accumulated over the past ten months before she'd gotten the waitressing job at Pops' Diner.

A near miss run-in with her ex-fiancé had scared her enough to tread with utmost caution this time. She couldn't afford to get too comfortable here, as she had in that tiny town in southern Indiana. However, the need to eat and pay rent had forced her into the daylight once again. She promised herself to be more cautious this time around. Loneliness wasn't an excuse for letting her guard down.

Janie mustered a smile, mindful of Momma's admonishment that no one likes a sourpuss. Grateful to Momma and Pops for hiring her, Janie wanted to live up to their standards, even if it killed her.

So many habits to unlearn. She didn't want to be memorable. No. She wanted to blend in and disappear. Talking to strangers made her nervous. The only comfort here was that the people she talked to were strangers. She didn't expect to find anyone here that knew her.

"I'll be right back with your eggs, sir."

"He's not a sir, young lady. He's Myles. Myles Channing."

Janie nodded to the same woman who'd so recently burbled about the state of the mayor's regularity. "More coffee, ma'am?"

The sisters giggled. Janie wondered what she said that was so funny this time. "Honey, you're new. I'm Mrs. Peters. My sister is Mrs. Hobart. You can call us Sissy. We both answer to it. Are you single, dear? It's high time Myles settled down with a nice girl."

Janie's shoulders rounded inward as the Sissies regarded her with open interest and chattered to each other in low tones.

"Red-headed babies are just adorable. You and Myles would make stunning babies," Sissy Peters said. "With his eyes and your hair, you'd have very distinctive-looking children."

Stunned, Janie couldn't think of any response to the blatant match-making. Instead she reiterated her previous question. "More coffee?"

"Yes, please, more coffee for us both," Sissy Hobart answered. "You know, I have a feeling about you and Myles. And I'm never wrong."

"Don't worry," Cindi Petroneli whispered as Janie scooted around her to get to the coffee pot. "You'll get used to our small town soon enough. The Sissies are harmless." Cindi tilted her head to one side before she blurted, "We should have a sleep over sometime at my place."

Janie's mouth wobbled. She couldn't decide whether to smile or frown at the petite blonde waitress. The other woman hopped from one subject to another much like a bird chased worms across the grass. The smile won.

"See?" Cindi teased. "Smiling didn't kill you. Come on over one night when you have the time, and I'll fill you in on the locals."

Janie didn't know if she'd stay in Glen Meadow long enough for it to matter if she learned about the colorful inhabitants. No matter how much she liked her co-workers, she still had to stay vigilant. She'd stayed too long in Indiana because she'd gotten a bit friendly with a next-door neighbor. That had given Dwayne Butler, her ex, time to find her there. She couldn't make that mistake again. Leave no clues behind had become her motto after her last narrow escape.

"Janie! Your order's up!" Pops bellowed.

The coffee pot slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor as Janie jumped backwards into a counter stacked high with cups and saucers. Dishware showered around her. Every eye in Pops' Diner turned to her. She felt the blood drain from her face as her heart rate tripled its usual tempo.

"I told you not to bellow at Janie, Pops! Use the bell, for the love of Mike," Momma scolded, flying out of her office.

"Clean up, aisle six!"

"Mickey Flannagan, you're not helping." Momma pushed her way through the crowd that surged towards Janie. "Surely it's time for you to be terrorizing your employees at the market, Mickey."

Janie cowered into a tight corner between the counter and the doors that led into the kitchen. Her breath came in shuddering gasps, and her heart raced in her chest so hard her ribs hurt from the pounding. Fear settled over her, fogging her vision and muting the sounds around her. She crossed her arms over her chest, and tucked her chin down.

Pops would have smashed the swinging door into her had Momma not shouted again. "She's by the door, Pops!"

Janie forced her head up, to meet Pops' fury face on. Instead of anger she saw only concern in his expression. He wiped his hands on the white apron stretched across his potbelly. His eyebrows climbed up to where his hairline should have been as he appraised her.

"Are you hurt, hon?"

Janie tried to breathe normally. Pops towered a good foot over her, making him big enough to really hurt her. She wondered when the first blow would come. Probably right after he noticed the extent of the damage she'd done. When he took her hand to examine her arm, she almost shed her skin in surprise.

"That will need stitches." Pops' bright blue eyes met hers. His gaze softened. "It was an accident, Janie. Momma will take you to the clinic."

Janie's knees trembled as relief coursed through her. Her heart rate slowed in the eternity she stood there, still warily paralyzed, yet hopeful that Pops didn't seem inclined to wallop her. Surely if he meant to, he'd have already struck. She took a cautious step out of her safe haven.

Cindi handed Momma her purse as Pops drew Janie all the way out of her shelter. The crowd of concerned diners parted to allow the threesome to exit.

"The clinic is just around the corner, hon. Do you think you can walk?" Pops asked.

Janie gave a shaky nod. She knew she'd be fired today. At this point, she couldn't muster much emotion over the loss of her job. She'd brought too much attention to herself, and she'd have to leave Glen Meadow. A shame, that. She liked the little close-knit town, even if she wanted to keep to herself.

"Don't you worry." Pops' bald head bobbed. "Momma will rework the schedule. I imagine Junior will want you to take at least one if not two shifts off."

"Junior?"

Momma cleared her throat. "Marty Winston just took over the practice from his granddad, Dr. Melvin Winston."

"Marty is ten years old. Too young to be my doctor," Pops countered.

"This isn't about you right now, Geezer." Momma flapped her hands at Pops. "Go back inside. Get that under control." She nodded towards the diner.

Janie watched Momma flap Pops back inside. Her arm throbbed as she held it just so. "You still on your feet, hon?" Momma's attention reverted back to Janie, and Janie couldn't help but bask in the warm glow of Momma's regard.

"I'm still standing." Janie tripped over her words. Momma's obvious concern touched a place in Janie's heart that had been neglected for far too long.

They walked in silence up the block and around the corner to the entrance of the clinic. Patients filled the chairs of the small waiting room. Momma propelled Janie towards the one empty seat.

"Sit. I'll let the nurse know it's an emergency."

Janie shifted in the hard plastic chair, uncomfortable at the scrutiny of the others. She didn't have to endure the stares very long. The nurse called her name two minutes later.

"They were here first," Janie whispered to the nurse.

The woman smiled at her in response. "Marty always takes emergencies first since Glen Meadow doesn't have a hospital."

Marty? Oh. Junior.

"I have to get back to the diner, hon," Momma said. "Pops can cook, but he couldn't manage a circus of imaginary people if his life depended upon it. Will you be okay?"

"Yes, thank you," Janie replied. She followed the nurse into the depths of the clinic. Alone with a stranger, the odd feeling of bereavement made her shiver.

"You haven't been here before have you?"

"No. I'm new in town."

"Welcome to Glen Meadow. I'm Vi. Let's get your weight and start a chart for you."

Janie stepped onto the scale. Vi adjusted the toggles. "That can't be right. How tall are you, Janie?"

"Five four."

"One hundred pounds? You don't binge and puke, do you?"

Janie's face heated. "No. I don't. I lose weight when I'm stressed."

Vi nodded and scribbled a note in the folder. "Moving to a new place can be hard. The ER is just this way."

The ER turned out to be a spacious room which looked exactly like a triage room in an actual hospital. There were three curtained off areas for patients. Vi led her to the furthest one, in the corner.

Several minutes later, having obtained Janie's blood pressure reading, her temperature and a list of medicine allergies, Vi left Janie alone.

The paper covering the table made a crinkling sound when she laid back. Weariness overcame her all of a sudden. The need to rest couldn't be denied when the opportunity presented itself. Running away sure took a lot out of a person.

Janie's heart thudded at the mere thought of what she ran away from. Dwayne Butler. A big Neanderthal type who thought the best way to express his love was with his fists. When she'd thrown his big, fake diamond ring back at him, he'd come after her swinging.

With nothing to keep her in Ohio, she'd made her way to Iowa, with several stops in between. Her body healed along the way. Her flagging spirit took longer. She'd left everything except for her purse behind when she'd snuck out of town in the middle of the night. This starting over so completely had taken its toll on her, as did almost of year of being on the run.

A young dark haired man strolled towards her. Vi followed him, chattering. He nodded. An ear to ear grin made him look much younger.

"Janie Lowell, is it? I'm Marty Winston." The light scent of purple lollipops pervaded the air around him. His cool fingers probed the skin around the slash on her forearm. "This will need stitches."

Dark, sympathetic eyes peered at her, even though he kept his head lowered to better see her arm. "This might hurt a bit, but I'll try to be gentle."

Janie winced when Marty cleaned the wound. "Ouch."

"Sorry." Marty paused for half a second before he continued the torture. "Looks like you splashed coffee on your legs. Legs are scratched, too. I'll check those while the lidocaine works on your arm."

"I didn't even notice. Don't bother with them." Janie wished to avoid causing any more trouble today. She could take care of the scratches on her legs later--like when she was in the relative safety of her own apartment.

"It's not a bother at all." Marty patted her knee in a gesture of obvious reassurance.

"The tray is ready, Marty." The nurse returned. She carried a tray with both hands.

"Thanks, Vi. You give the shot while I check the injuries on her legs."

"I can take care of my legs at home," Janie insisted. She sat up and drew her legs under her.

Marty rose off the rolling stool he'd sat upon. "You're here, so you might as well let me take a look."

Janie wilted under the doctor's sharp gaze. Oh, she didn't feel any menace from him, but she knew by his countenance that this wouldn't play out the way she wanted. Heaviness settled over her heart. It seemed to her that men everywhere were intrinsically the same. They all wanted things done their way.

"I won't hurt you, Janie." Marty's gaze intensified. "Trust me?"

Heh. Trust? A man? No way on God's green earth did she trust any man, either dead or alive. Marty must have sensed her hesitation. He had a quiet word with Vi, who then left the room.

"I know we just met, Janie, and I can respect that you have little reason to trust me. I assume the coffee that splashed on you was hot? Let me check to make sure you don't have any nasty burns. Let's make sure there's no glass slivers in those cuts. Okay?"

Janie held his gaze, her narrowed as she assessed him. Pops was right. Doctor Marty should have been called Junior. With such an open, honest face, she had little reason to continue being stubborn. His words made sense.

"Okay."

He rewarded her with a smile and a wink. Vi came back into the room, bearing a pink plastic basin. She pulled wash cloths out of her pocket.

"Orange coffee?" Vi muttered after one swipe at Janie's legs. She applied the soft cloth over the scratches while Marty stitched the gash on Janie's arm.

"Not coffee," Janie admitted. "Tan in a bottle stuff."

"Whatever for?"

"Bright white legs," Janie prevaricated. That and the bottled tan stuff covered up the scar on her right leg, just above her ankle--very noticeable without the fake tan lotion covering it in a thick layer.

Vi noticed it several minutes later. "What's this? It looks like a burn. Marty, you need to see this."

The original injury healed badly. Marty peered at the bumpy reddish scar after he finished sewing, his lips pursed together. "That's a relatively new scar."

"Yes." Janie closed her eyes. Oh, how she didn't want to remember the day Dwayne had held her still while one of his friends had burned her with a cigar. Both men had howled with laughter over her screams of pain. That incident revealed a cruel streak that went far beyond what she'd imagined him capable of doing. Despite the fact that he hit her. The cigar burning led to her to end her engagement to Dwayne, Dwayne beating the living daylights out of her, thereby causing her to flee.

"It's a burn. Not self-inflicted." Marty went to what looked to be a supply closet. "Rub this on it two times a day. Should help diminish the appearance of that scar."

Janie accepted the tube the doctor handed her, mutely sliding it into her front pocket. While she knew she had nothing to be ashamed of, still the familiar clutching squeeze in her chest sent a tingle through her entire body.

The next twenty minutes passed quietly after Vi finished washing Janie's legs and Marty doctored the wounds.

"You'll be good as new in a couple of days," Marty announced as he applied the final bandage. "Lucky lady, you get a get-out-of-work pass for the next couple of days."

"Marty? Sorry to interrupt, but there's another emergency. Seems that Myles slipped at the diner, right into the pile of broken glass."

Janie groaned. Great. Just what she needed. A guilty conscience for her clumsiness causing injury to another person.

To a male person who had the most amazing shade of violet-blue eyes she'd ever seen. Eyes that twinkled at her with an inner mirth from a face that almost made her forget she'd sworn off men for the rest of her life.