The Misdelivered Secret Between Arthur and the Girl Next Door

”

“Money.”

“That much I gathered.”

Her spatula slowed.

I thought she might tell me to mind my business.

She had every right.

Instead, she said, “My parents own a little diner on Route 9.”

“Maple Corner?”

She looked surprised.

“You know it?”

“I’ve eaten meatloaf there every first Monday for nine years.”

“My mom makes the meatloaf.”

“Your mother is Linda?”

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