“Yes, ma’am,” Harold said. “Most of the people in the low-lying areas are either under a good bit of water or the roads around them are flooded. Anybody stuck in a flooded home has been pulled out now, though. The other men have motorboats much faster than Bessie here,” he said, patting the edge of the rowboat. “And they picked up people a lot quicker. Mrs. Connelly here flagged me down as my grandson Adam and I were rowing Mrs. Jolene Evans to her niece Bonni on Walnut Street. Adam stayed behind to make sure she got there safely.”
Tessa nodded. “That’s nice of y’all.” She looked at Lily. “I haven’t called Mama yet. You think she’s having a conniption about now?”
“I called her. Shewashaving a conniption and wanted to know why you didn’t call her first. I told her it’s because Jakob and I live closer.”
“Did she buy that?” Tessa felt too frayed at the edges to try and soothe her mama’s worries effectively.
“Sure,” Lily said. “She was just relieved you were okay. She’d already talked to your neighbor, John somebody, a little bit ago, and he said the whole bottom floor of the building was under water. She didn’t know why you didn’t call anyone sooner. What took you so long?”
Tessa stared at an armada of clear plastic bowls with blue lids floating past. A spring wreath decorated with pastel-colored plastic eggs and tied with a soggy blue ribbon weaved in and out of the current that pulled everything downhill, back toward the epicenter of the pond. “I went to bed late.” Leaning over she whispered, “After two glasses of wine.” Lily nodded her understanding. “Thanks for coming to get me.” She swiped at tears, feeling the puffiness of her cheeks. “Where am I going to live?”
“Hey now,” Lily said, pausing in her rowing and sliding closer to Tessa. She looped her arm around Tessa’s shoulders. “It’ll dry up, and we’ll get in and assess the damage. Then we’ll see if we can fix it. You can stay with us if you can tolerate a two-year-old holy terror, and you know your mama will take you in.” Lily squeezed Tessa’s shoulder. “It’s not as bad as it seems right now.”
“It seems awful,” Tessa said. A toothbrush sailed past on miniature rapids.
“Wanna grab breakfast at the diner? Isn’t that your usual routine?” Lily asked.
“Is it even open?” Tessa tucked her short brown hair behind her ears.
“It is. I drove past it on my way to you. Downtown is dry. How about a huge stack of waffles smothered in cane syrup?”
“You think they’ll let me eat inside? I smell like a river rat.”
“You’ve smelled worse. Remember when you were on that boiled cabbage kick? Dang, you reeked for days.” Lily nudged her elbow into Tessa’s side.
Tessa couldn’t help but chuckle. Shehadstunk. Nobody liked the smell of cabbage sweating out of the pores, not even the one sweating. “I think I might need biscuits and gravy too. For comfort, you know.”
Lily grinned and lifted her oar. “Mr. Spencer, will you please row two damsels in distress who are in desperate need of Southern cooking toward downtown? We would be much obliged for your kindness,” she said, laying her Southern accent on thick.
Mr. Spencer chuckled as he smiled and changed directions, pointing the bow toward Scrambled.
Chapter 2
Homestyle Biscuits and Comfort Gravy
TessathankedMr.Spenceragain as she climbed out of his boat onto dry land, which was still five blocks from downtown. She slung her purse and a bag over her shoulder while Lily grabbed Tessa’s other bags, and they walked the remaining way to Scrambled. People milled about everywhere, emerging from shops and fluttering around street corners like butterflies released from cages. Kids, unable to absorb the immensity of a disaster the way adults did, leaped into water puddles hugging the curbs.
For a moment Tessa wished she could slip back in time and join them in their carefree existence. Their giggles traveled up the sidewalks and pressed against her chest, warming her, comforting her in a way that made a voice in her head say,It’s all going to be okay. Tessa adjusted the bag on her shoulder and exhaled. Sunshine peeked around billowy clouds. A bluebird swooped down, chirping madly, as if calling to his family and telling them the worst had passed. Tessa wondered,Had it?Had the worst passed?
As they approached the diner, Tessa looked up at the familiar sign bolted to the new building—two cartoonish eggs sat in a brilliant-blue bowl with the wordScrambledarcing over them. For more than fifty years, another building, Bea’s Bakery, had stood in its place. Tessa felt the familiar ache of loss, followed by a longing for pastries and chocolates that could soothe her worries. In a freak fire, the bakery had burned to the ground two and a half years ago, nearly suffocating her, Lily, and their best friend and owner of Bea’s Bakery, Anna O’Brien. Their lives had been saved but not the bakery or the building.
Anna had rebuilt a structure on the lot, but she had moved her bakery and taken her sweets to Wildehaven Beach, Georgia, a seaside town less than two hours away on the Atlantic Ocean. Anna sold the new building, housing the diner and the apartment above it, to Harry and Cecilia Borelli. Scrambled didn’t replace what the town of Mystic Water lost in the fire, but it soothed the townsfolk in a new way, wrapping the people in the toasty comfort of biscuits and gravy or folding confidence into basil, goat cheese, and tomato omelets.
Scrambled was nestled in between the brick building of Lily’s clothing boutique and the hardware store with its window decal peeling at the edges. A Radio Flyer red wagon, holding a teddy bear wearing a hard hat, was parked in the window.
A sodden garden smeared dirt across the diner’s front patio, and the garden trailing along the side of the building looked as though angry fists had pummeled the earth. Many of the plantings slid from their positions or lay beaten against the saturated soil.
Before Tessa even reached the door, she could see and hear the crowd of people in the diner. Many looked just like her—wide-eyed, lost, and seeking relief.
Lily opened the door and ushered Tessa inside. The air inside reminded Tessa of the Sunday mornings of her childhood. She recalled images of her family crammed into the breakfast nook while they dragged pancakes through syrup. Tessa imagined browned link sausages lined up on paper towels and her mama scolding her daddy when he ate one after another without stopping, not even to breathe. But this morning, foreign smells infiltrated the room. The stink of exhaustion, floodwater, and rubber boots mingled with the aromas of coffee and bacon.
Sapphire-blue vinyl booths lined the walls, and tables holding two or four chairs were scattered across the middle of the room. Colorful canvases, created by a local artist, decorated the walls. Small white placards hung beneath the artwork and displayed the artist’s name and her prices. Tessa’s pink rain boots squeaked against the tile floor as she and Lily weaved their way through the crowded room to an empty booth. Within a minute the usual waitress, Laney Tucker, strolled over. Her wavy strawberry-blond hair was a mess of curls pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail. She dropped two laminated menus on the table.
“Welcome to the madhouse,” Laney said. “You girls okay?” She gave Lily and Tessa a once-over. “From the looks ofyou, I’d say no,” she said to Tessa.
“My condo is under water. Lily rescued me in a rowboat,” Tessa said, trying to stop her bottom lip from quivering.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You’ve got the same story as more than half of the people sitting in here right now. Most are sure their homes are ruined.” Laney shook her head and sighed. “You got a place to go?” Laney’s honey-brown eyes were full of compassion.
