Chapter 5
Sam
Wednesday nights at Chesty’s run slow and lazy. There’s no pool or dart leagues tonight and most everyone clears out after ten. In fact, there are many nights it’s just me and the jukebox turned on low until we close.
Tonight, no one’s fed a quarter into the music maker yet so there’s only a low buzz of chatter among a grand total of three customers sitting down at the opposite end of the bar from Pap.
He’s almost done with his beer and I keep tabs on it, but his attention is pinned to a hockey game on TV as he follows his beloved Pittsburgh Titans.
I’m using the quiet time to wash and dry empty mugs, giving me a head start on the evening cleanup I’ll finish after I shoo out the last customer.
The door opens and because I’ve been on alert, my head snaps that way, and yeah, in walks trouble wrapped in tired, yet still breathtakingly beautiful.
Penny sports the same outfit she wore this morning at Central Café.
The flour’s gone from her cheek, the bun at the back of her head appears intentional again, and there’s a slick of gloss on sinful lips.
She’s got the loose, floaty gait of someone who most certainly doesn’t look like she’s been on her feet all day running a restaurant.
Her eyes catch mine and she smiles before dropping down beside Pap on a stool. She spares me a quick glance, then nudges Pap with her shoulder. “You buying the first round or what?”
His attention abandons the game, and probably only because the Titans are winning. He nods at me and lifts a finger. “Give the girl a cold one, Sam-Pete. She earned it today.”
I fish a beer out of the cooler, twist the cap, and expertly toss it behind my back to make a clean entry into the garbage can. I place the bottle before her. “Rough day?”
“Define rough,” she says, and takes a swallow and sighs as she savors the fizz, then groans in delight. “If running a diner is a circus, I’m the clown who set herself on fire.”
Pap’s mouth twitches. “Was it hopping all day?”
“Packed,” she says, exhaling the way people do when they set down a heavy box. “Apparently the entire county missed bacon cooked by someone else. My step count is illegal.”
“Happy problem,” I tell her.
“Happy and loud,” she agrees. She swivels halfway toward Pap, her arm brushing the bar. “I didn’t get to talk to you much this morning.”
Pap chuckles. “You mean what with you being the town’s salvation and all?”
Penny rolls her eyes. “No, seriously… how are you doing?”
Pap’s shrug wants to be nonchalant and almost makes it. “Doctor says I’m fine. Still kicking and cancer’s in full remission.”
Her expression softens, all the sparkle and snark turning warm. “Good. You look… strong.” She eyeballs him critically. “I can tell still as stubborn as ever, but I didn’t expect the chemo to burn that out of you.”
He hides a pleased huff in his beer. “Can’t keep a Marine down.”
“That’s for sure,” she says, smiling into her bottle. She takes another drink, then glances around like the quiet is a novelty. “It’s weird to hear myself think.”
“What’s it saying?” I ask, shooting a quick glance down at the other customers to note their half-full pint glasses and deep conversation.
“That my feet hurt and my heart’s fine.” Then, without prompting, she adds, “DC didn’t have nights like this. Even the quiet felt… wired.”
I lean on my forearms, give her space to talk or not. “You miss it?”
“Parts,” she admits. “There’s obviously so much to do there. So many great restaurants, museums, art galleries.”
Pap rests his arm on the bar, fully engaged. “Explain to me what you did in the big city. Not sure I understand exactly what you do.”
“I work for a nonprofit agriculture lobby group,” she says, grinning in that self-aware way of someone who knows how ridiculous politics can sound in plain English. “Long days. A lot of meetings where I push and prod and argue until something actually moves.”
I’m admittedly fascinated. “Like what? Give us an example.”
Penny’s lights up and for a second, the exhaustion drops away.
“We’ve been fighting to secure subsidies for small farms—helping family growers stay competitive against big agribusiness.
Things like soil restoration grants, fair crop pricing, and disaster relief programs that reach the people who need them. ”
Pap lets out a low whistle. “That’s good work.”
Damn good work, if you ask me.
“Why’d you pick that?” I ask, genuinely curious.
She shrugs, but there’s warmth behind it.
“It made sense. We’re surrounded by farms here—half the county’s livelihood depends on what they can pull from the dirt.
My best friend’s family runs one, Muriel buys her produce from local growers…
it’s all connected. I guess I wanted to make sure people like them didn’t get left behind.
” She looks back and forth between us. “I guess it was my way to stay connected to my roots.”
Pap tips his beer her way. “So, you’re the reason we got all that pork-barrel spendin’ up in DC?”
“Exactly,” she says with a mock-serious nod. “Except mine actually involves pork.”
I can’t help laughing. Her mouth quirks into a grin before she takes another sip, the gloss worn off her lips and a faint pink across her knuckles like she brushed a steam plume. She looks like she spent time today on something that mattered.
“Here’s a question,” I say, resting both forearms on the counter. “What’s harder… lobbying or running Central?”
“Interestingly enough, turns out pouring coffee and herding regulars requires similar skills to wrangling senators. You just smile, listen, redirect, never promise pie you don’t have.”
I bark out a laugh and Pap grunts his approval like she just recited a field manual. “You did good today.”
“Thanks.” She tips the bottle again, slower this time. “But I’ll be glad to get back to my calling.”
It’s weird how that sentiment hits me. On the one hand, you can’t help but be happy that Penny has found success and purpose in her career, but on the other hand, there’s something about our flirting that makes me want to convince her to stay.
Penny rolls the bottle between her palms, not in a rush to go or to fill the silence. I wipe a clean patch of wood as she and Pap chat about the nation’s capital, and I pretend I’m not listening to the cadence of her day—the way DC sharpens her vowels and how Whynot rounds them back out.
She flicks me a look, a quick pass of green eyes and pretty freckles beneath. “You ever miss anything, Sam? Or are you one of those rare creatures who landed exactly where he’s meant to be?”
“Depends on the night.” I gesture lightly at the empty stools, nod at both Pap and Penny. “On Wednesdays, this feels exactly right.”
“Hmm.” She smiles like she can see the rightness, too, in the quiet and the slow. Then she elbows Pap, affectionate. “And you? Are you still where you need to be?”
He snorts. “Well, gas is a little cheaper and the food’s better than up north.”
“Ambitious,” Penny teases.
He lifts his pint, takes another pull from his beer, smacks his lips, and says, “Well, there’s one more thing I guess I don’t miss—sleeping alone.”
The sentence hangs there a beat before Penny blinks. “Wait, what?”
Pap grins like a man who’s been waiting for that reaction. “Started seeing Sissy Givens a few weeks back.”
She nearly chokes on her beer and I have to force myself not to laugh. “Sissy Givens? Queen of the night, Sissy?”
“Don’t sound so horrified,” he mutters. “She’s a fine woman.”
“Of course she is.” Penny scoffs. “But she’s outspoken, loud, mean when she needs to be, and I heard she’s taken to hosting drag shows in Raleigh with Morri.”
Morri is an on-again, off-again resident of Whynot.
Best friend to Lowe’s wife, Mely, he comes down to visit from New York City often and is as gay as the day is long in the summers around here.
At first, no one quite knew what to do with someone so flamboyant and so at ease in their own skin.
In the rural South, we fear what we don’t know.
But over time, he’s become accepted—and still probably quietly judged—and that has included Floyd going to Raleigh with him to attend drag shows.
Now, Floyd knows nothing about drag queens, and I doubt he’s met a gay person before Morri, but that old eccentric is all about the experience, so no one thinks it’s that odd. Add Sissy into the mix, and we’re proof that small-town life isn’t all that boring.
Pap offers a wistful smile. “Yeah… Sissy’s pretty amazing.”
I can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of me. The sound earns me a glare, but even he can’t hold it.
“I think it’s great,” I say, still grinning. “Match made in heaven if you ask me.”
Penny turns to me, wide-eyed. “You do?”
“Sure. I’m a romantic at heart.”
One perfectly shaped eyebrow arches a little higher. “Really?”
“I’ve got layers,” I assure her, and Pap’s chuckle rumbles low.
“Sissy Givens?” Penny repeats, scandal still coloring her voice. “That might be the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard. I need to get by to see her.”
Pap drains what’s left of his pint, sets it on the bar, and pushes to his feet. “Don’t go making a thing out of it, but I’ve got to get going.”
“To see Sissy?” Penny says playfully.
“Lord no,” he scoffs. “That woman wears me out. Tonight, I’ve got a date with recorded episodes of Jeopardy.”
“Sounds wild,” Penny teases.
He tips his cap at her and then at me. “You two behave yourselves. Penny—don’t burn down the café.”
“No promises,” she calls after him.
The bell over the door jingles as he heads out, and for a few seconds, we both just stare at the space he vacated.
Penny’s still smiling when she looks at me. “Pap and Sissy Givens. That’s not a pairing I saw coming.”
“Man’s full of surprises,” I say, reaching for her empty bottle and setting another in front of her before she can refuse.
“I shouldn’t,” she says automatically, but I twist off the cap, anyway. “Long day.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “You look it. And that one’s on me.”