“I have a log.”
“Of course you do.”
Anna came out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron, and hugged Bernie—carefully, one arm around his shoulders, the other hand on his arm above the cane. She held on for a second longer than usual.
“We missed you,” she said, stepping back and looking at him. “Did you miss us?”
“I missed the grilled cheese.” He smiled at her, his cheeks turning a little pink.
“That’s the same thing,” Anna said.
“Basically.”
Joey had already gone to the corner. He folded the Reserved sign in half, put it in his apron pocket, and ran a cloth over the table surface—parallel lines, no circles. He checked the salt shaker. Adjusted the pepper a quarter inch. Stepped back.
“Sir,” he said. “Your booth.”
Bernie walked to the booth, his hand on the table edge for the last step, and lowered himself onto the bench seat carefully, the knee going last.
He looked around the dining room. The same room he’d been looking at for decades. The counter, the window to the kitchen, the grill visible through the door. The ocean through the windows. The ceiling with the shells. The morning light.
A woman at table four leaned over to her husband and said, “Is that the man with the knee?” The husband nodded. The woman gave Bernie a small wave. Bernie waved back.
“You have fans,” Margo said, standing at the end of the booth.
“I have regulars who bet on my pools. That’s not the same thing.”
She was where she always stood—his side, counter side, where she refilled his coffee and set down his plate and moved on.
She sat down across from him.
Bernie looked at her. He set his cane against the wall and put both hands on the table.
“You’re sitting,” he said.
“Yes, I am.” She pulled the menu toward her even though she didn’t need it either.
“You don’t sit. Not here.”
“I’m sitting now.”
He didn’t say anything else about it. He reached for his own menu—which he had never once needed—opened it, and studied it while Margo sat across from him.
Anna appeared at the booth with two cups of coffee and set them down—one in front of Bernie, one in front of Margo. She paused for a half-second, looking at Margo on the other side, and then picked up her notepad.
“Two grilled cheeses?” Anna asked. “And the girls land tomorrow, so it’ll be a full house again by the weekend.”
“It’ll be lovely to see them. And yes, please,” Margo said.
Anna went to the kitchen. Through the window Margo heard Anna say something to Joey she couldn’t make out. Joey’s response was a single word that Margo also couldn’t make out but suspected was “noted.”
The coffee was hot and the booth was the booth—Bernie across from her with his hands on the table, the Wednesday morning light coming through the window behind him and falling across the table.
“Good to be back,” he said, picking up his cup.
“Particularly good coffee,” Margo said, picking up hers.
“It’s the same coffee, Margo.”
