Read The Diva Wore Diamonds for Free Online Page A

continuously from inside by diffused lightning. The storm was still a long way off, though. I judged fifty or sixty miles.
    I went back inside, fed Archimedes his breakfast and took a cup of coffee to Meg. She was sitting up in bed watching The Weather Channel.
    “ Thanks,” she said with a smile, then nodded toward the television. “The storm is over Kingsport. High winds, hail, and a lot of lightning.”
    “ Eighty miles away,” I said. “I thought it was a little closer than that.”
    “ It’s big. Should hit us around noon.”
    “ Yep,” I said. “I’m going to go for a run, and then I’ve got to get into town. I’ll get breakfast at the Slab.”
    “ I’ll come with you,” said Meg. “Not running. Breakfasting.”
    “ Great,” I said. “I’ll be ready in an hour.”
    “ Me, too,” lied Meg.

    •••

    The Slab Café was packed. Meg and I had figured that the crowd would be sparse, thanks to the big storm a-brewing. Luckily for Pete, Brother Hog had made the Slab Café the rendezvous point for all the protesters. And since everyone was rendezvousing anyway, why not have some breakfast? Every table was full, every barstool occupied. Luckily for us, one of the tables was occupied by Pete and Cynthia, and they’d saved a couple of seats.
    “ Wow,” said Meg. “I had no idea the Slab was this popular.”
    “ Oh, yes,” said Pete. “Hog brought in a couple of vans full of customers, and then some came in on their own.” He pointed to the corner by the door. About thirty protest signs were stacked neatly against the wall.
    “ Who’s flipping the flapjacks?” I asked.
    “ José’s back there cooking. Wormy’s washing dishes. Noylene’s got the floor, and Pauli Girl should be here shortly to help out. I called her about a half-hour ago when I saw what was happening.”
    Noylene scuttled by and splashed our coffee cups full in a mad dash to the kitchen. “Be right back,” she called over her shoulder. “Y’all want waffles, right?”
    “ Well, actually…” said Meg, raising a finger in a futile gesture and looking in desperation at the swinging kitchen door. It was too late. Noylene was gone.
    “ Right,” said Cynthia. “Waffles for everyone.”
    “ I’ll have mine with waffles,” I said.
    “ That storm is gonna wash these guys out,” said Pete. “They’d better get to praying pretty quick. If they wait too much longer, they’re going to be soggier than Noah’s houseplant.”
    The cowbell hanging on the door banged with a jangle, and Pauli Girl raced to the kitchen to clock in and get her apron on. Noylene appeared a few seconds later with an armload of orders. The folks in the Slab on this dreary morning were not of the tourist variety and so were not at all antsy about getting fed in a hurry. They had plenty of time.
    The four of us, as well as the other patrons, had our repasts in front of us and were well on our way to feeling mighty satisfied by 9:30. Belgian waffles with maple syrup, whipped butter and walnuts on a summer morning in early June just can’t be beat. In fact, it was 9:30 on the nose when Brother Hog opened the front door, stuck his head into the Slab and called, “It’s time to start! Let’s get moving, folks!”
    Everyone, except the four of us, got up, collected their slickers, purses, umbrellas and placards and made their way to the cash register where Noylene was stationed.
    “ It’s like music to my ears,” said Pete wistfully, as we listened to the register ding every time the drawer opened. “The register and the cowbell. Someone should write a concerto.”
    Fifteen minutes later, the Slab was shed of customers, and the tables were piled high with dirty dishes. Noylene and Pauli Girl came out and fell, exhausted, into a couple of chairs at the next table. They were joined by Wormy and José, who came out of the kitchen a moment later.
    “ Thank God that’s over,” said Noylene. Pauli Girl nodded her agreement.
    “ I think they’ll be