Unforgivable by Tina Wainscott

look. “Where’s your wife? Don’t she cook for you no more?”
    “Katie’s going through something right now. I’m just trying to be a good husband, give her some space.”
    “She’d be a fool to make you unhappy. Why, what would she be without you?”
    “I just hope she realizes that. And she will, I’m sure of it.”
    When Dinah turned in his order, he swiveled around on the stool and nodded to several people he knew. Marion Tate, self-appointed town busybody was holding court with a group of people in the far corner. Her husband the sheriff sat next to her. Marion waved him over. 
    “How are y’all doing?” Ben asked everyone with a sweeping nod. 
    “How’s it going?” Marvin Bale asked.
    “It’s going to the dogs, that’s how it’s going.”
    The table laughed pleasantly, amazing Ben that they never tired of the saying. As long as he got a reaction, he’d keep on saying it.
    “Where’s Katie?” Marion asked after surveying the diner. “Seems strange a married man eating by his lonesome.”
    “Marion, mind your own damn business,” her husband muttered. The Sheriff looked like Mel Gibson with a paunch. If his wife was the queen of Flatlands, he was surely the king.
    Marion patted the table after giving her husband a pinched look. “You’ll just sit here with us, no question about it.”
    Their dessert plates littered the table, along with blue ceramic coffee cups. “Looks like you’re in the middle of something. Don’t want to butt in.”
    “Nonsense,” Marion said. “Marv, just clear that spot next to you. No man should eat alone, that’s what I always say.”
    “Why, thank you, Marion. Appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Ben went back to the counter to pick up his soda.
    He met Sam Savino’s grim gaze as he turned back to the table. Sam was there with his wife, Clarice. He was dark-haired and olive skinned, traits he’d passed onto his son, Gary. His disowned son, that was. Ben wasn’t sure if the perpetual sneer on his face was voluntary or just the way his face was made. Seeing as Gary had the same sneer, Ben figured it was the genes. Clarice was fair in looks and coloring, always quiet and looking as though the world had just pissed on her. 
    Ben stopped at their table. “Evening, folks.”
    Clarice only nodded and averted her gaze to her cream pie. Sam did what he always did: appraised Ben and made it clear he didn’t like what he saw. “Don’t you ever take your wife out to dinner?”
    Ben blinked at the rude statement. “Sir, may I ask what you have against me? A man’s entitled to know why another man doesn’t like him.”
    “And a man’s entitled to dislike someone and not explain why.” 
    Ben took a step back when Sam pushed out of the booth. He hated feeling afraid, but Sam outweighed him by fifty or more pounds, and it was all muscle. “Let’s go, Clarice,” Sam said and pushed by Ben. 
    She glanced longingly at her unfinished pie, but followed dutifully.
    “Don’t worry about them,” Marion said, obviously having watched the exchange. “Sam’s a grump, always has been. He’s got a big ole block of ice right where his heart ought to be. I thought he and Gary were going to get into fisticuffs the other day, right here in the diner. Can you imagine, a father and son who hate each other that much? And both of them on the side of the law?” She made a prim tsking sound. 
    Ben took a seat between Marvin and Harold just as Dinah brought out his salad. 
    “What’s this lumpy white stuff?” Ben asked.
    “Goat cheese. It’s very chic. Just try it.”
    Eating goat anything didn’t appeal. After Ben gave his salad to Harold, who ate anything, he said, “I don’t want you thinking something’s wrong. Katie’s just going through a phase is all. Everything’ll turn out fine.”
    “Oh, good,” Marion said on an exhalation, as though she’d been holding her breath to find out what the scoop was.
    Sheriff Tate rolled his eyes. “Now everyone in