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One

Benny

Boston, Present Day

At the diner, Sal leaned out from the kitchen window to get a better look at the TV over the counter. “I’m telling you—the reality star looking to start his own production company is the murderer.”

“You’re wrong,” said Benny, narrowing her brown eyes at the screen. Their new favorite show, Lawyered Up , was on. “I’m going with the skittish tutor with the college loans.”

“The reality star had loans too,” Sal insisted.

“Sal, table seven is still waiting on those onion rings,” called one of the waitresses as she slapped another order ticket on the counter. “Hey, Benny! Heard it was your birthday last week! Twelve, right? Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Carol,” Benny said, remembering what she knew about the older waitress—semiretired, widowed, two adult kids who lived out of state. Sizing up people quickly was one of Benny’s skills, something she’d learned from moving to new towns and changing schools so often.

“Onion rings are still frying,” Sal grumbled. “Tell them if they wanted fast food, they could have gone to McDonald’s.”

Carol rolled her eyes at Benny as she grabbed two Greek salads from the window. “Why are you hanging out with this crank? Shouldn’t you be out with friends?”

What friends? Benny thought. The ones she made slipped away every time they moved. As soon as the school year ended three weeks ago, they’d moved again, this time to Boston. It didn’t help that Mom could afford only a single phone for the two of them. Who wanted to text someone whose mom could be reading their messages? “Sal is helping me celebrate,” Benny told Carol. “Plus, I get free onion rings every time he gets the murderer wrong on Lawyered Up .”

“Not every time!” Sal said as he pulled the onion rings from the deep fryer, then turned and handed Carol a hamburger platter.

“That burger smells good,” Benny said. “How about a game of rock, paper, scissors? If I win, you let me have a plate.” At home, they’d run out of milk again, so all she’d had for breakfast was dry cereal. Not that she’d been too hungry at the time. Their new apartment over the Apollo Diner had no air-conditioning, so she avoided it as much as she could. She hung out in the diner during her mom’s shifts, since it had free air, free cable, and, occasionally, free food.

Sal wiped the sweat from his bald brown head. “When I play you at that game, I always lose. How about this: If I’m right about the murderer, you get a burger. I’m wrong, you help me wash dishes.”

“Deal.” Benny didn’t like to lose, but if she did, she could handle a few dishes. She’d had worse company than Sal before. Sal—tall, thin, bald, lived alone two blocks over, acted tough but had a cat he showed off pictures of like it was his kid, obsessed with Law and Order –type shows, like Lawyered Up . The best part about Sal? He wasn’t trying to date her mom. “Sadly, you’re going down.”

Sal grabbed the remote to turn up the TV volume. “They’re about to reveal who did it!”

Benny leaned forward, careful not to mess up the Scrabble board she had going with Mom, who’d take her turns whenever she passed by to grab her food orders from the kitchen.

“Brian Sullivan, you’re under arrest for the murder of Sandra Milensky.”

“YES!” Benny crowed as Sal slammed his spatula on the griddle. “Burger, please!”

Sal was already sliding the plate through the service window. “It’s a bit overcooked.”

“I’m not picky.” She preferred her burgers well-done anyway. (Her mom suspected she might be a vegetarian who just hadn’t committed to the lifestyle yet.) “I’ll play you for a milkshake to go with it. Are you sure you aren’t up for a round of rock, paper, scissors?”

Sal growled as he put another frozen patty on the grill. “No way. You got breakfast, lunch, and dinner out of me that way yesterday.”

Benny smiled. Sal would cave. Her mom had only been working at the diner a few weeks, but Benny already had his number. There were worse ways to spend a summer afternoon. Still there was a part of her that wondered when her real life was going to start. Was Boston the place where that would finally happen? Twelve felt like a good year for life to begin.

“Stop eating the profits, Benny,” said Mom, dropping off a ticket and picking up the special in the window. (Meatloaf. Benny wasn’t a fan.) “I need this job.”

“Hey, Sal made a bet. Your Scrabble move, by the way.”

Mom turned the board so she could read it better. Benny couldn’t help but think how pretty her mom was, despite the purple rings under her eyes from working double shifts. Her smile, her laugh, brown eyes, and naturally wavy brown hair that looked equally good in a ball cap or hanging over her eyes. Her mom swore Benny had the same hair and eyes, but Benny did not think she’d ever look like her. “ Y-O-U-R ,” Mom said. “That’s seven points. Top that.”

Benny spun the small plastic travel board back toward her and studied her own letters. The Z she’d held on to for several rounds was proving problematic. No B meant the word zebra was out. But she did have an E and a P on the board. What about the R ? Could she use that? She drummed her fingers on the counter. “How much time do I have?” Benny was patient. Don’t let them rush you. Take your time , she heard Grams say. Grams taught her how to play Scrabble when she was five.

Her mom frowned. “I was supposed to get off at six, but Sal asked if I could pull another double, and we could use the cash.”

Benny felt the hairs on her neck stand up. “How short are we?”

“I didn’t say we were short.” Her mom yanked at her black Apollo Diner tee. It had a picture of the Greek god on the front along with the words, Everything’s betta with a little feta . “But…”

Benny groaned. “Tell me you didn’t go back and buy that blue top at the thrift store!” She noticed Sal leaning in to listen, and she lowered her voice.

“It was on clearance,” Mom protested. “And I have that date with Richard on Friday.”

“ Richard ,” Benny repeated, the name sticking on her tongue like taffy. “Who goes by Richard anymore? He sounds stuffy and pompous.” Pompous was a good word. Worth thirteen points.

“He also drives a Tesla and owns two brownstones in Boston,” Mom noted. “He could be good for us.”

“We don’t need anyone but each other,” Benny reminded her, trying to stay calm. Her dad wasn’t in the picture—Benny had never even met him—and the guys her mom dated always turned out to be cow dung. Love doesn’t work out for the women in our family , Benny recalled Mom once telling her . Benny’s grandmother had become a widow when she was pregnant with Mom and raised her alone. Grams had lived with Benny and her mom until she died two years ago. She had been a realist, like Benny. Mom, though, was still a romantic. Benny wished she’d realize, the only person they could rely on was each other.

“This Richard guy isn’t going to save us,” Benny continued. “Or pay our rent.”

“I know, I know,” Mom said, sounding worried now. “But I’ll be honest: even if I return the top, we’re still short for this week.”

“Mom!” Benny scolded. “We counted the money the other night. We were so close.”

“I couldn’t get you nothing for your twelfth birthday,” Mom insisted. “It’s been such a rough year. You deserved that camera.”

A Nikon F3 35mm camera. Benny had wanted an old camera like it forever. She liked to hear the sound of the click as she snapped a photo, the thrill of taking a picture and not knowing how it would look till she got the film developed. She sighed. “I love the Nikon. But maybe we should sell it.”

“Benny,” her mom groaned. “I’ll stall on rent. I’ve done it before.” She filled three glasses from the soda machine, placed them on a tray, and hurried off to serve them.

“Bad news” Sal obviously had been eavesdropping. “The landlord of this building always collects on the first…and if you don’t have it, you’re out of here.”

Benny felt her insides twist. “Maybe we can reason with him.”

Sal waved his spatula in the air. “I hate to be blunt, but you won’t. Heck, I’ve rented this spot for ten years, and some months when business is slow, I think of flooding this place and collecting the insurance money.” He raised an eyebrow. “The landlord does not negotiate on rent.”

Benny turned back to her Scrabble board again, trying to calm her nerves. Then she placed Z , Y , H .

Sal leaned over the kitchen window. “That’s not a word.”

“ Zephyr means gentle breeze . I just scored twenty-three points.” At least one thing was going her way today. She gave her swivel stool a spin and turned around just in time to see a man in an expensive suit approach the counter.

Sal looked at him. “Need a table?”

Benny stared at the man. In addition to the suit, he wore wire-rimmed glasses and a New York Yankees ball cap. She resisted the urge to reach for her new camera and take a picture of him.

“Actually, I’m looking for someone who I believe rents the apartment above this diner.”

Benny’s heart seized. Was this the landlord? She started to panic, her stomach swaying like she was on a ferry. “That’s my mom.”

He looked at her. “I’m hoping that means you’re Everly Pauline Benedict.”

“That’s me.” She cringed at hearing her middle name. “Most people call me Benny.”

He stared at her. “Well…I’ll be. You actually exist.”

Benny didn’t know what he meant by that. “Can I help you with something?”

“Actually, I’m here to help you.” He placed a briefcase on the counter. “You, kid, just inherited a fortune.”