She gazed around the diner—at the chairs turned up on the yellow tables, the way the overhead lights reflected in the windows against the still-dark morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but soon, the floor would be streaked with sunbeams. The early risers would hustle inside to claim their favorite booths. Farmer Branson would order more bacon than he could eat so he’d have leftovers for his hound dog. Pastor Dubois would get his standard black coffee and settle in with his Bible.
Her throat knotted as she slid the final donut onto the stack. Once Delia sold the diner, would the new owners keep things the same? Would they keep her as manager? Who would cook? Would the menu change? What would the locals do if they couldn’t order their favorites?
Too many questions, and not any answers.
The front door swooshed open, and Delia ambled inside on a walker. Her eyes weren’t as cheery as usual, but her lipstick was as pink as the buttons on her oversized shirt. “Morning, sweetheart. You’re here early.”
“Delia!” Elisa rushed around the counter, wiping her icing-covered fingers on her apron. “What are you doing here at all? And where’s your chair?”
Delia let go of the walker long enough to flit one hand through the air. “Surgery is scheduled for next week, so I thought it was time to part ways with the thing. Besides, I’m not doing a whole lot right now.”
“You’re still going to church and coming in here. That’s plenty.”
“I’m not crippled.” Delia winced as she made her way to one of the tables. “Lower that chair for me, will you?”
Elisa obeyed, then took the seat opposite her once Delia was settled. “I tried so hard, Mama D. I really did. But I failed.”
Delia pursed her hot pink lips. “What are you talking about, sweet girl?”
“I’ve been looking for ways to save the diner.” She couldn’t bring herself to admit to her plan to pay for the surgery. “But it’s all falling through. You’re going to have to sell. I fought with my dad. I’ve lost Noah.” She rubbed her temples. “I might not even have a job soon.”
Then Elisa sat up straight, her hands slapping down against the table. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel worse. I know you didn’t ask for any of this to happen.” Great, now she sounded selfish. She dropped her head to her arms.
“Shush, now.” Delia patted her hand. “Look at me, Elisa Bergeron.”
Elisa raised her head just far enough to make eye contact.
“One thing at a time.” Delia smiled, her teeth white against her lipstick. “Then you’ll see it’s not all that bad.”
“Feels like it.”
“Well, you’re not a failure, no matter what plans you did or didn’t have.” She sniffed. “That’s foolish talk. Secondly, I’m glad to hear you fought with your dad. That’s progress, dear one.”
Elisa sat up straight. “I guess it was.” She updated her on the events of last night.
“See?” Delia shook her head. “Miracles abound.” She gave Elisa’s hand another pat. “What happened with Noah?”
She groaned. “We need donuts for this story.”
“I always need donuts.”
Elisa retrieved two of the fresh pastries from the display, and then took her seat. As Delia crunched her way through the sprinkled topping, Elisa filled her in on the treasure hunt status, the ball game, the fight, and the jail. “I blew it. He was starting to trust me again…I was starting to trust him…and I just stood there. I let my dad intimidate me,again.”
“What your father said about old habits is true, love.” Delia brushed crumbs off her fingers. “They’re hard to break. And you’ve had decades of bad habits.”
She winced. “That’s not very encouraging.”
“I wasn’t done.” Delia held up one finger. “If Noah is the man I think he is—and I really do think he is—he’s going to see that we all make mistakes. And he’s going to come around.”
She was too scared to hope. After all, Noah hadn’t come back the first time she failed to back him to her dad. “You think so?”
“I’m rarely wrong about these things.” She lifted her chin. “Or much of anything, really.”
Elisa snorted.
“Now, the diner…” Delia nodded slowly, her smile fading as she absently wiped a napkin across the table. “That’s been a hard one for me too. But this is the lot the Lord has dropped in my lap, and trust me when I say I’ve prayed for alternatives. There just hasn’t seemed to be any.”
“I’ve prayed too.” The whisper floated from Elisa’s lips. “Almost as much as I did for Mom.”
