Chapter 6 Ruth
six
Ruth
A forecasted snowstorm is making the diner eerily quiet.
Lately it seems like no matter what I do, I can’t get ahead.
Business overall is slow. I’m pinching every penny I can to keep this place profitable.
I’m lucky to have a slew of regulars who come in the mornings, but my nights have died off.
Except for two regulars, who are night-shift nurses drinking their coffee before their shift starts, the place is empty.
Hating to sit because it makes me tired, I stay busy wiping syrup and ketchup off the menus, but my eyes flick to the clock on the wall every few minutes.
I’m not a big caffeine-in-the-afternoon person, but this might be one of those rare nights I make an exception to get through this shift. I turn toward the coffee maker, grab a cup, and fill it with the fresh coffee as the bell on the door jingles.
The hairs on the back of my neck alert, and I feel his presence in the air.
Bill Baker saunters in, wearing the same blue windbreaker he wore at the park.
He’s got an easy stride as he glances around the place, and I find myself smoothing my apron.
“You came,” I say, trying to sound calm and not wildly out of my comfort zone.
Sure, I invited him.
I didn’t exactly expect a billionaire to show up at my humble table.
He bends his lips into a full smile. It’s genuine but does little to put me at ease. “You didn’t think I would?”
I force myself to match his smile, but my heart is somewhere between my throat and my stomach, bouncing around like it has no idea where it belongs.
Noah got done with his practice, and they dismissed him, but neither the coach nor Bill gave him any feedback.
They simply said thanks for trying out. It was an odd exchange.
Of course, Noah looked disappointed. Since I had to close tonight, I couldn’t stay home to find out more.
I’m still grateful Bill allowed him that chance.
I figured since he wasn’t asked to return, Bill wouldn’t bother with my pancakes.
I shrug, my lips twitching. “I thought you might be too busy.”
“I am busy,” he says, “But I still have to eat, and someone promised me the best pancakes. And honestly, that kind of boldness demands a follow-through.”
I sputter out a laugh before I stop myself. My nerves unravel a bit more as I start to understand his sense of humor. I find a real smile. “Well, you are in luck. The griddle is warm, and no one else is in line. You can take any seat you want.”
He picks a stool at the counter, sliding on it with the kind of ease that my regulars do.
I hand him one of the clean menus I just wiped off. “Do you drink coffee?”
“Not usually, but if you think I need one, I’ll try one.”
“I see how you are.” I pour him a cup and slide it over. He doesn’t hesitate to lift it to his lips and take a sip.
He pushes the menu back at me without looking at it. “You said I must try the pancakes, so that’s what I will have. And if you’ve got real maple syrup, I might have to make that a double stack.”
“Of course I do.” I write his order on a ticket and push it through the window for Margie to grab.
Then I turn back, he’s staring at the photo wall next to him.
When my mom ran this diner, she used to collect photos of the locals and hang them up.
That was many years ago. Most of them are black-and-white Polaroids of everything from the 4th of July parade to the Little League teams we’ve sponsored over the years.
If I had to bet, the majority of the people in those photos are long since passed, as my mom herself has.
That was her community, and I never had the heart to remove the photos.
They remind me of my mom and her love of the community.
Aside from our pancakes, this diner is also a well-known for our photo wall.
“Is that Brad Wilson?” Bill points to a photo of a young boy, maybe sixteen years old. He’s skinny as a pole and standing in front of a busted-up pickup.
I step forward, even though I’ve looked at this photo so many times I’ve memorized it. “Yeah, he used to come in here with his mom, who was friends with my mom. He was a few years older than me in school, but I didn’t know him. Did you know him?”
“Yeah, I knew him and still do. He hunts with my cousin,” Bill says, squinting. “He has that deep purple scar on his neck. Look, you can even see it in this photo”
“I see it.” I nod. “Interesting that you know him. What a small world.”
“It is a small world, especially here in Mapleton. Have you lived here your whole life?” he asks, sipping his coffee.
“Born and raised.” I tuck a hair behind my ear, but my hand pauses on top of my head where my hair feels a tad greasier than I’d prefer. In the bustle of the day, I didn’t have time to wash it, and I threw it back in a ponytail.
Oh, big regret now.
Why didn’t I shower?
Bill’s gazing at me as if expecting me to expand on my thought, so I rush out, “I left for a bit after I graduated high school. I had this dream to see the world, but that didn’t last long.”
He tilts his head. “Oh really? How come?”
I shrug, drifting my focus back to the wall.
I understand why the regulars love these photos so much.
It makes for an easy place to gaze. “Oh, you know. Life was leading back. I had gotten married and pregnant, which were good things. Then unexpectantly I ended up being a single mom. I tried, but I couldn’t do it alone.
I didn’t have an education and was barely making any money and had to pay for daycare.
My mom offered me a chance to come back and help her run this place.
Since she was grandma, she sure didn’t mind when I brought Noah with me to work nights.
Many times on her nights off, she watched him for me.
It saved me a lot of money on childcare.
Plus, we enjoyed working together. What about you? Are you originally from here?”
His brow lifts. “Yeah, I grew up on the other side of the tracks. Right near that old railroad bridge.”
“Are you talking about the one off Main Street they’re getting ready to tear down this spring?”
“That’s the one.” He chuckles until the lines by his eyes crease.
“I always thought that old bridge would crumble any day. I guess the city finally got sick of waiting for it to self-destruct. It’s been through a lot.
We used to jump off it as kids. Shoot, as fearless as I was back then, I didn’t tell anyone I actually peed my pants a little the first time I jumped. ”
I laugh from my belly because I know the exact sensations, but I also wasn’t expecting Bill to open up about something like that.
“We did that too. I only jumped once though. That was enough for me. Always a collector of things, I preferred to catch the fireflies. Did you ever see how thick they were at night?”
His smile softens. “Actually, I didn’t get over there much at night. My parents never let me run after dark, but the few times I accidentally stayed late, I noticed that. It was sort of magical the way they appeared, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was.” For a second, we sit with the memory. Then I add, “It’s crazy we never saw each other. What year did you graduate?”
“Oh, I’m old. I graduated last century,” he teases. “In the 1900s”
“So old.” I chuckle, enjoying his humor. “I was there too. Boy, does that feel like another lifetime ago.”
He leans back, gaze still on me. “Sometimes it does, but sometimes it seems like yesterday.”
“I haven’t thought about that bridge in years. Isn’t that funny? All the memories that stay with you, but you don’t think about them much.”
“Yeah.” His lashes lower, hooding the spark in his eyes for a moment. “Even when everything else changes. All the neighborhoods have grown, but that bridge is the same.”
“Order’s up!” Margie calls as she slides his plate through the window. I turn, grabbing it and his ticket. “As promised, the best pancakes on this side of Vermont.” I slide the plate across the counter. With my free hand, I fold his ticket in half and tuck it in my apron pocket.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He gives me a teasing smile while unfolding a napkin and leaning forward, fork in hand.”
I stand back, watching as he cuts a piece of the pancake with the side of his fork, stabs it, and drops it into his mouth.
He maintains a straight expression as he chews.
Something tells me he does that to tease me because there’s no way he doesn’t love it.
“Well?” I ask after his chewing has gone on for an insane amount of time.
“Don’t know yet. I don’t judge off first bites.” He returns his fork to his pancake for another bite. “I have to eat the whole thing to make sure the taste is consistent.”
“That’s fair.”
He drops another piece into his mouth. After he swallows it, he looks over at me and says, “About the tryouts, you know, we already had our list of guys we wanted to make the next round before Noah showed up.”
My heart catches, squeezing tight. I hadn’t expected him to bring that up.
I could apologize again, but I already did that.
Sorry only goes so far. I honestly struggle to say anything.
When I don’t, he goes on, “Technically, he missed the tryout. So, Coach Carlson dismissed him when he was done working with him.”
“Right,” I say, voice coming out small. “I, uh—”
He waves my defense off, speaking over me, “I didn’t know what to do with him, but if he can be back next Saturday, we’ll run some drills. I’d like to see him on the ice with the other guys. It wasn’t really a fair assessment by himself.”
I stare at him, stunned as hot tears prick the backs of my eyes.
I didn’t expect this.
I’m certainly not going to say no. Noah’s one step closer to his dreams coming true, and I want that so much for him. Thank you doesn’t sound like it’s enough, so instead I say, “This means everything.”
“I know it does. I remember when I was his age. My only goal was to play hockey. The thing is, he’s got some good qualities. Mainly his speed, but he needs some polishing. I’m hoping if he gets a little push, we’ll see more out of him.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. That doesn’t exactly sound like he’s on the team.
With so many guys fighting for spots, it’s a long shot.
Everything has been working out so far. I’m not giving up.
Before I know it, he scoops up the last of his pancakes, glances at his watch, and sighs like he’s not ready.
He smiles at me as he sets his napkin in the center of his plate.
“You were right. These were the best pancakes I’ve ever had, but it’s only partially because of the taste. ”
My head tilts as I’m not quite sure what he means about only partially, but I’m too afraid to ask for clarification. “I’m glad you enjoyed them,” I say, but it comes out more breath than voice. “You’re welcome back anytime.”
“You know something. I’m glad I stopped by. It was nice getting to visit with you.” He lingers for a second. Something flickers in his eyes. It’s tender, and maybe a little tentative. He gives me a last, quiet smile and walks out.
The bell jingles as the door floats to shut behind him. I stand still with my heart thundering in my chest. That man holds my son’s future in the palms of his hands.
Please be good to him, I pray.