Chapter 2 #2
Laura handed him a card from a holder on the counter. “Just call whenever you’re settled and want to eat a home-cooked meal.” She glanced to her daughter. “Mila, you’ll have to come, too.”
“Hey, if you’re serving enchiladas, you know I will be there. We need to grab some lunch now, Mom.”
“All right, sweetie. Good meeting you, Carson,” Laura told him.
They exited the boutique and went directly opposite it to the other side of the square, entering the Driftwood Diner.
The smells that hit him as they walked in the door had his mouth watering.
He hadn’t eaten breakfast, being too nervous before his meeting with Dr. Perry, and Carson was now ravenous.
“Hey, Mila,” a woman with white hair and a deep tan said. She looked to be in her early seventies.
Mila hugged her. “Nellie, this is Carson Andrews.”
“The new basketball coach,” the woman said. “Word is out all over town that you’re replacing Sam.” She glanced to Mila. “Sorry, honey.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Mila said, causing him to wonder what Nellie’s remark—and Mila’s reply—had been about.
“Nellie and Neville have run the Driftwood Diner for decades,” Mila informed him.
“You came at the right time. An hour ago, I wouldn’t have had a seat for you. Come on, let’s grab you a booth.”
Nellie lifted two menus from the stand and led them to a booth against the glass, giving them a nice view overlooking the town square.
“Any drinks?” Nellie asked.
“Water for me,” Mila said.
“Same,” he added. “I’m ready to dive into your menu.”
After Nellie left, Mila said, “You can’t go wrong with any of the burgers or grilled cheese. I’m actually going to get breakfast. It’s my favorite meal, no matter what time of day.”
Carson skimmed the menu, and when Nellie returned with their ice waters, he was ready to order.
Mila went first. “I’ll do the Breakfast Bay Burger, with hash browns and fruit on the side.”
Closing the menu, he said, “I’ll take the Driftwood Diner Number Two. Just curious, though. I didn’t see a Number One. Am I missing something?”
Nellie laughed. “That’s because there’s never been one. How do you want your eggs cooked, Carson?”
“Over easy. I’ll take the ham, hashed browns, and English muffin.”
“No,” Mila said, shaking her head. “Go with the biscuits and gravy. You won’t be sorry.”
“Okay. Biscuits and gravy,” he told Nellie.
“Coming right up.”
“I almost went with what you’re getting.”
“I love it. It’s got the sausage patty instead of a beef patty.
The sharp cheddar and the fried egg on top are perfection.
” She cocked her head. “Listen, I’m not opposed to splitting it if you want.
You could have half my burger, and I could have some of your biscuits and gravy.
That way, you could have more of a taste of things. ”
“You’re on,” he said enthusiastically, surprised she had suggested something so intimate. It had taken Angie and him six months to work up to sharing things from their plates with one another. “So, where have you coached? And how did you make your way back to your hometown?”
Mila laughed, a deep, throaty laugh that sent shivers running along his spine.
“I played volleyball from third grade on. First at the Y and then at school. Driftwood Bay is too small for select teams, like more populated urban areas have, so I also worked as a photographer for the newspaper and yearbook staffs because I had more free time by not playing club volleyball. We won state my senior year, and my coach helped me earn a scholarship to play at Texas State.”
Nellie arrived with a tray and distributed their food to them. Mila continued talking, slicing her burger in half and handing it over to him before picking up his plate with two biscuits and sliding one onto her own plate. She cut open the biscuit and spooned gravy on top of it.
“After college, I accepted a job in San Antonio as a volleyball assistant at a pretty large high school. Spent four years there and was getting itchy feet, ready to move on since the head coach was only in her mid-thirties and not going anywhere anytime soon. That’s when my former high school coach called out of the blue and told me she was retiring—and she wanted me to take her place. ”
She paused, taking a few bites and sighing. Carson was right there with her, thinking the hash browns were the best he’d ever eaten and salivating after his first bite of biscuit and gravy.
“This biscuit is the lightest, fluffiest thing ever. And the gravy is outstanding,” he said.
“It’s sausage gravy. Neville does most of the cooking, and he won’t share what goes in it.”
“I hope he doesn’t take his secret to the grave,” Carson joked.
“It’s common knowledge that the recipe is in his will and that when Neville is gone, it’ll be published in the weekly newspaper, The Drifter. Until then, you have to come to the diner and pay to eat it.”
“So, you returned home,” he said, putting their conversation back on track.
“Yes. I interviewed with Jon Earl. As AD, he makes the final decisions on coaching personnel. You’ll do the same now, I suppose. Anyway, he said I was the best candidate and offered me the job. I took it.” Mila chuckled. “Breaking The Pact.”
He frowned. “Pact?”
“My oldest, dearest friends and I—we met in kindergarten—always talked about getting out of Driftwood Bay. How we wanted to live in a place where no one knew everything about us. While it’s great sometimes, living in a small town, people can get up in your business.
We swore when we were thirteen that we would leave after graduation and never come back. ”
He sliced the last bite of ham and savored the smoky, sweet taste of it. “And are you the only one who broke it?”
“Yup. Layne is some hotshot computer tech person in Dallas. A CFO of her company. She’s a former debater and can win an argument with the wall.
Piper does regional theater and also travels in national productions.
Layne is the last person who would come back to Driftwood Bay.
She likes classy, Michelin star restaurants and high fashion.
Piper is a nomad, living out of a suitcase.
She doesn’t even have a permanent address.
She just goes from one production to the next.
She did an off-Broadway play two years ago and rented a tiny place in Brooklyn during its run.
That’s the closest she’s been to having a home since her college dorm room. ”
“Do you ever see them?”
“Some. Not often. We do FaceTime once or twice a month, though. We might not see each other in person, but we’ve stayed friends all these years. Piper and Layne are the people I depend upon the most.”
Carson found himself a bit jealous. Because he lived with Aunt Jayne—and she’d been a hoarder from the time he’d arrived at her house—he’d never asked friends home.
She would’ve flipped if he did. While he enjoyed playing with his basketball teammates, he kept to himself and had left high school without keeping up with a single soul.
When he got to college, he took a full load of classes and also worked about thirty hours a week, pulling shifts at a restaurant and refereeing basketball games.
Summers, he kept the restaurant job and worked basketball camps and clinics.
He’d had Angie—but she was really his only friend.
He had made some during coaching, but he’d pulled away from those friendships after Angie’s death, his responsibilities with Lily keeping him from staff happy hours and playing in a sports league.
The only exception was Rudy Cox, his assistant who’d been offered Carson’s job when he resigned. Lily and Binky were staying with Rudy’s family for a few days while Carson was in Driftwood Bay, but he was already missing his daughter and dog desperately.
Glancing at his watch, he said, “I guess you need to drop me back at admin.” He waved to Nellie. “I’ll get the check. Lunch is on me.”
When the diner owner arrived and Carson asked for the check, she said, “It’s on the house, honey.”
“I can’t let you do that, Nellie,” he protested.
“Did you like the food? Will you be back?” she asked.
He grinned. “At least a few times a week.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. Good to have you in town, Carson. Bring your little girl by soon. I’ll have Neville make her some of his famous pancakes. He uses blueberries for eyes and strawberries for the mouth, and the hair is made up of chocolate chips.”
Carson thanked Nellie for lunch, wondering how she already knew about Lily.
As they went to Mila’s Jeep, she said, “You’re thinking about how Nellie knew you had a daughter. I told you, Carson. You’re in Driftwood Bay now. It’s like the old show Cheers. A place where everybody knows your name.”
They traveled the few blocks to the admin building, and Mila pulled up in front of its front door.
“Thank you for walking me around the high school,” he said.
“I do need to talk to you about interviewing those volleyball candidates.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Do we pay for them to come in for an interview?”
“No. Usually, we do those by Zoom. Did Jon Earl interview you that way?”
“He did, but he also wanted me to come in and meet your dad once he offered me the job.”
“That’s probably because Jon Earl was looking to hand off the AD position and knew Dad would need to visit with you in person.”
He nodded. “That’s the bulk of what your dad and I talked about. Okay, go ahead and set up Zooms with them. Do I need to be there for those?”
“No. Unless you don’t trust me.”
His gut told him that he could trust Mila.
“Do the interviews. Make the offer to the one you want. Just keep me in the loop.”
“Will do. I should know by Thursday. Friday at the latest.”
Going out on a limb, Carson said, “Would you like to have dinner and talk about it?”
Mila studied him for a long moment. “Sure. Why not?”
“Let’s trade numbers so you can text me about the candidates,” he suggested, hoping she wouldn’t point out that once she’d hired someone, she could simply text him that info, as well.
They traded phones, inputting their information, and she said, “I’m also putting Hillary’s number in here, as well.” They handed their phones back to each other.
“Thanks again for everything, Mila,” he said.
She gazed at him a long moment before speaking. “I hope you’ll enjoy being here in Driftwood Bay, Carson.”
He exited the Jeep and waved as she drove through the parking lot and turned onto the street.
Carson entered the building to sign his contract and other papers, as well as receive his orientation packet.
He had a lot to do. Set up a bank account.
Contact the realtor. Find a place for Lily during the day and a responsible adult who could watch her when he was at practice or games, though that wasn’t as pressing as everything else.
More importantly, Carson had some thinking to do.
And that revolved around whether or not he wanted to pursue Mila Perry.