“Doing fine. Sit wherever you like.” She follows us to the table Atlas chooses, toward the back, but where he and Viper have a clear view of the door. “Coffee?” she asks as we take our seats.
Atlas and Viper take her up on her offer. Grizz asks for a Coke.
“And you, hon?” The woman gives me a once-over, taking in my hat and glasses, which I haven’t removed yet.
“Decaf for me, please.” I’d like to ask if they have any herbal teas, but I don’t want to draw undue attention to myself. Several of the other patrons watched us come in, a few of them waving at the men. In a town this small, it seems impossible not to stand out as a stranger.
“You got it.” Ruth leaves us with the menus, only to return moments later with a coffee pot in each hand.
“What’s looking good today?” Grizz asks her as she pours coffee into my cup.
She answers immediately in a no-nonsense tone. “Definitely the meatloaf. The brisket is a close runner-up. I’d only order the turkey if you’re mad at your taste buds.”
“Understood.” Grizz closes his menu. “Put me down for the meatloaf sandwich.”
“I’ll be back with your Coke. Take your time looking at the menu, hun,” Ruth tells me before she heads to the kitchen.
“The grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup are always good,” Atlas tells me. “That’s what I’m getting.”
Eyes scanning the room in his usual quiet way, Viper doesn't touch his menu. When Ruth comes back with Grizz’s drink and an order pad, he requests a BLT.
“Cook’s already working on it for you,Silas,” she says.
Keeping the doctor’s orders about protein and fiber in mind, I opt for a salad with grilled chicken. Grizz is a terrific cook, and I’ve enjoyed everything he’s made, including plenty of vegetables, but the men don’t seem big on salads.
While Atlas is ordering, the entrance bell jangles and there’s a bit of commotion, though Viper’s face doesn’t register any concern. I turn, trying not to be obvious, and see a short, dark-haired woman greeting people at every table she passes.
She looks to be in her seventies and is wearing an oversized, bright red coat that matches her lipstick perfectly. A bold geometric-patterned scarf is secured around her neck with a big fancy brooch that shines under the restaurant’s lighting.
She’s clearly not a stranger in this town, but she definitely stands out.
When I turn back toward the men, my brows lifted in curiosity, Atlas says, “Mae Whitaker. Town’s mayor many years ago. Still runs the place, I reckon.”
The woman strolls past our table and settles herself in the last booth along the wall like she’s taking her rightful place on a throne.
Ruth rushes over to greet her. “The usual, Mae?”
“Milkshake, please. I don’t know yet whether or not I’ll be eating today.”
As the waitress leaves, I avert my eyes, though there’s something about Mae Whitaker that draws my attention like a magnet. I look around the restaurant instead, to the two old men arguing about whose truck has better mileage,to the conversation I can’t hear across the way that involves a waitress and people at two different tables, all of them laughing. Everyone seems to know everyone else.
“Is the town always like this?” I ask quietly.
Atlas looks around, following my gaze, and shrugs. “More or less.”
“People look out for each other,” Grizz says. “They meddle, too, but it’s mostly with good intentions.”
As our food’s being delivered, a tall older man ambles by the table. “Hey, Ed,” Ruth says. “Be right over.”
“We know where he’s headed,” Grizz mumbles under his breath.
“Who’s that?” I whisper.
“Ed Winslow.” Atlas keeps his voice low. “He’s retired from carpentry, but he still does projects for Mae.”
The older gentleman slows as he approaches Mae’s booth, and for a minute, I think he might turn around and head back the way he came. Meanwhile, Mae inspects the menu with exaggerated seriousness, one perfectly shaped brow arched. Even though she doesn’t look at the man, it’s clear she notices him.
“You’re late,” she says eventually, still not looking at Ed.
