Chapter 10
Scarlett
Somehow when Mia and Andee were taking apart my bed frame, they made it look a whole lot easier than putting it back together.
My black hair is up in a top knot and I wipe the fly aways from my forehead with the back of my hand.
I can’t let myself get discouraged already.
I’ve got way more to do around here besides putting together the bed frame.
Finally I get the last bolt in, put the slats in and lay the mattress on top.
Well, I may not have much furniture but at least I have a bed.
Something that looks so enticing right now.
My sleepless night last night and the adrenaline dump of when I arrived are catching up with me.
But, before I can let myself fall into this bed, I have got to get something to eat.
Originally I thought that I’d get everything unloaded and the bed made with enough time left over to go grocery shopping and make dinner. I don’t know what delusion let me believe that but now I’m way past hungry and decide I might as well check out that cute little diner I saw in town earlier.
When I walk out to my truck I glance over at the grumpy neighbor's direction and see he’s outside with his animals.
I mull over whether I’m annoyed at the interaction earlier or the fact that I’m already off to a rocky start with my closest neighbor.
Not how I wanted to start my new life. Hopefully I don’t illicit that kind of reaction wherever I go in this town.
I’ve done enough research in different environments to know that sometimes small towns like this can feel like a big family.
Which sounds nice, unless you’re considered an outsider to that family.
The last thing I want right now is to have a thirty year mortgage on a place inside a town that thinks I’m a parasite.
Despite the fear of everyone hating me just because I wasn’t born here, I throw my shoulders back and decide that I have the right to be here.
And damn it, I’m going to go to a hole-in-the-wall diner and get some greasy food for my empty stomach just like everyone else.
I’ll win them over if I have to. One by one.
Leaving my grumpy neighbor for last. I roll my eyes and hop in the truck.
The sun begins to set on my way to town and Main Street is even more adorable at dusk.
Each business on the street has a store front that looks like it could have been here during the wild west days.
All wooden storefronts but most have been painted different colors.
Ranging from bright pink, sunshine yellow, and soft robin’s egg blue, each building is lit up by Edison bulbs that zig zag back and forth overhead. It gives the entire town a cozy feel.
Outside the truck the sun has almost completely set and the temperature has dropped significantly.
I hug my coat to my body and hustle into the blue building with a sign over the door saying Al’s place.
Inside the building the wooden floors creak with every step.
One wall is exposed brick with pictures of Al Capone all over the wall along with other gangsters from the twenties as well as celebrities from the movie Scarface that look like they’ve been taken inside this building.
The tables are simple and square with alternating red and black tablecloths.
About half the tables are full as I stand frozen just inside the door.
A woman behind the bar yells out, “Feel free to sit anywhere, hun.” I find a small two person table and sit on the side against the wall.
While I realize I gave up my journalist job, I don’t know that I’ll ever stop observing the world around me as if I still write about it.
Across the room sits an older couple. Her hands are full of arthritis and he reaches over and cuts her chicken for her.
To the left of that table is a family of four.
The mom and dad look utterly exhausted as their, I’m assuming twins, are the highest form of energy.
A little girl with blonde hair goes to reach across the table for her brother’s crayon and ends up knocking over mom’s drink, right into her lap.
A younger woman who looks like she might be on a date stands up and walks over to the mom and helps her clean up the spilled water.
The mom looks close to tears but the dad stands up and hugs her, reassuring her that all is well.
At the original table the older couple looks at them with a fond smile on their face.
It’s clear they have children who are long since grown.
They probably want to say you’ll miss these days but they refrain, probably equally knowing that in this moment, that mom won’t understand how true it may be.
“Hey there, sorry about the wait. My name is Trish and I’m going to be your server for the evening.
Can I get you anything to drink?” Her smile looks genuine and between the wholesome interaction across the room and Trish’s greeting I relax my shoulders and let myself feel at home.
I ask for water and Trish hands me a menu.
The menu is full of classic diner dishes.
Burgers, patty melts, turkey club sandwiches, chicken fried steak– which always makes me think of my grandpa– and an all day breakfast menu.
Everything sounds delicious but when Trish returns I order the biggest burger on the menu.
Probably a little overzealous but my screaming stomach tells me I need it.
“That’s a great choice,” Trish confirms, “best burger on the menu.” She has a hop in her step as she makes her way back to the kitchen with my order.
Next to me on the table my phone buzzes and I open it to find a text from Andee.
Andee: Settle in ok?
Me: Yep! Took forever to build the bed. Getting dinner at the local diner, it’s so cute!
I take a quick picture and send it to her.
Andee: Cute! Any guys? Wink face emoji.
Me: Andee, I love you but I’ve been here for like eight hours.
Andee: Plenty of time to find
I assume her text is unfinished until she sends another one which has a rooster emoji. I roll my eyes but with a smile on my face.
Me: Nope, only guy I’ve met is my neighbor. Eye roll emoji.
Andee: Is he hot?
Me: He’s an ass.
Andee: Doesn’t answer the question.
Trish returns with my plate and in the center, surrounded by delicious looking french fries, sits a huge burger piled high with fresh butter lettuce, juicy tomatoes, red onions, and their house secret sauce. It looks heavenly.
“Wow, thank you. This looks incredible,” I say, rearranging some fries so that I can have easier access to the burger.
“Thanks!” Trish beams. “The veggies are all grown locally at a farm just outside of town. Out on Cottonwood Drive.”
“Really? I just moved onto Cottonwood Drive,” I say, astonished.
“Oh you must have moved into Blaine’s old place.
I heard it sold. Yeah, your neighbor Jake is who grows our veggies.
He has a huge greenhouse he put in a few years ago just so he could grow veggies year round for us and a few other places in town.
He’s great.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond before she rushes off to the families table, the father making the universal sign asking for the check.
He’s great, she says. Yeah, a great pain in my ass so far.