Manny’s coffee pot hit the floor and shattered behind the counter.
Nobody bent to pick it up.
The taller of the two young men stared at the page Vincent Harlow had turned toward him.
His expression changed so quickly Claire almost missed it.
Smugness first.
Confusion next.
Then fear.
“What is this?” he asked.
Vincent leaned back in booth seven and placed the cold cloth over his burned hand again.
“You can read.”
The man snatched the folder closer.
His companion stepped beside him.
Claire couldn’t make out every line from where she stood, but she saw Manny’s name near the bottom of the page.
Manny saw it too.
“Vincent,” he whispered.
Vincent never looked away from the two men.
“The building changed hands at four seventeen this afternoon,” he said.
“Every legitimate interest I had in this property went to Manny.
Free and clear.”
Manny gripped the edge of the counter.
“You did what?”
“What I should’ve done years ago.”
The taller man’s jaw hardened.
“You don’t get to do that.”
Vincent’s eyes moved to him.
“I just did.”
Claire suddenly understood why the folder on the table mattered.
The papers the younger men had brought were not retirement documents.
They were trying to make Vincent sign away whatever remained under his control.
The diner was part of it.
Maybe not because Manny’s was worth a fortune.
Because possession was power.
And because taking something Vincent cared about would prove that he could no longer stop them.
The taller man slapped Vincent’s folder shut.
“They won’t honor this.”
“They don’t have to,” Vincent said.
“The county already did.”
Claire glanced at Manny.
His eyes had filled, but his face was furious.
“You owned my building?”
Vincent finally looked at him.
“The company that held the note did.”
“For how long?”
“Eleven years.”
Manny stared at him.
“You let me send rent checks every month for eleven years?”
“You would’ve thrown me out if I’d told you.”
“You’re damn right I would’ve.”
For the first time, Claire saw Vincent smile without hiding it.
It lasted less than a second.
The taller man noticed.
He didn’t like it.
“This isn’t funny, old man.”
The smile vanished.
Vincent’s voice stayed quiet.
“Then stop trying to be funny.”
