She picked them up, carrying them in with her. In her mind, she could see Tom shuffling out of them, hurrying to her rescue. She'd seen him do this before, and knew that he always kicked off his boots before he shifted.He was lucky, she thought, that no one had stolen his boots yet, as likely as he was to leave them in all possible—and some distinctly impossible—locations around town. But the thought that he had been in a hurry to come to her rescue remained, as she stepped into the warm atmosphere of the diner, perfumed with the homey scent of fries and redolent of basil, fennel and mint.Before they'd taken over, there had been an underlying bad smell to the diner, as though the old grease was never completely cleaned from the various surfaces. As they'd found in their grand cleanup and repainting before reopening under their management, this was by and large true. But now all that you could smell in the diner was the clean aroma of well prepared food. Tom was as fanatic about hygiene as he was about helping people who just didn't seem able to make it on their own.
