Prelude: Prequel to The Lewis Legacy Series by Joann Durgin Page A

Foster or any number of pretty girls vying for Sam’s attention. She wasn’t blind, and she’d noticed the way the girls made fools of themselves around him. You’d think they’d never seen a handsome man up close and personal before. Okay, so maybe she was jealous.
    “Try Merle Smithers and you’d be right.” Debbie circled the pink striped straw in her shake a few times. “You ask me, your friend Sam had a lot of to do with Merle getting the job.”
    Sarah’s brows rose. “Really? That’s wonderful. What’s he doing at the bank, do you know?”
    “Maintenance and odd jobs, I think. I was in the bank making a deposit the other day and saw him. Merle’s not half bad-looking when he’s cleaned up. I mean, he had on some kind of ugly dark jumpsuit or uniform, but his hair was combed and he seemed to be in full possession of his faculties.”
    “Meaning he was sober,” Sarah said. She glanced at the front door when she heard the bell. A young colored couple—she estimated both to be no older than their early-to-mid twenties—stood inside the front door. Conversations ceased and the clink of dishes and silverware halted with an almost shocking abruptness. They didn’t see many minorities in Rockbridge apart from a few Hispanic couples who’d settled on the outskirts of town.
    Without a second thought, Sarah stepped forward with a welcoming smile. She hoped everyone would behave, resume eating, and mind their own business.
    “Please come in and have a seat,” she said. “Would you like a booth or a table?”
    “A table by the window, if that’s okay.” The man had removed his hat and now held it between his hands. The woman gave Sarah a tremulous smile but avoided meeting her gaze. Sarah noted their plain, narrow wedding bands.
    “Of course.” She ushered them to a table halfway down the aisle next to the window. “Is this okay?”
    “It will be fine. Thank you, miss,” he said.
    “I’m Sarah. I’ll go get your menus. Would you like something to drink?”
    “Coffee for me, please.” He looked across the table. “You too, honey?” The woman—not more than a girl, really—silently nodded. Poor girl appeared intimidated and sat romrod straight in her chair, holding onto her purse like it was an anchor, probably wishing she could disappear. Sarah sensed the stares from other patrons boring into her back. She wished she could give them all a tongue lashing like the grade school principal, Mrs. Darden, used to do whenever the kids were disrespectful or unruly.
    “Sanka or regular?”
    “Regular is fine,” the man said.
    “I’ll get it right away. The sugar shaker is on the table if you need it,” Sarah said, giving the woman what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Would you like cream for your coffee?”
    “That’s not necessary, thank you.” Again, it was the man who’d spoken.
    As she walked away from their table, Sarah made casual comments to some of the other customers to generate conversation. Making her way back to the counter, she mentally willed a couple of potential troublemakers to be on good behavior and not cause trouble.
    “Well, if it ain’t Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King. Come here to spread equality in Rockbridge.” That growled comment came from old Wally Simms from a counter seat behind her as Sarah poured coffee into mugs for the couple.
    Lord, help me. Why did the color of someone’s skin have to be such a big deal?
    Turning, Sarah narrowed her gaze. “What did you say, Wally? You’d better speak a little louder because I don’t think everyone in the diner heard you.”
    Wally ran a hand over his unruly beard and eyed her with suspicion. Opening his mouth to speak, he then closed it. She bore her gaze into him, silently daring him. He remained silent. A momentary reprieve, most likely.
    After delivering the coffee and menus to the couple, Sarah paused behind Wally, speaking for his ears only. “I’m going into the kitchen to get an order. If I hear