Erica had never gotten a good look through the wide windows when she and her mother passed by it on their way to Jade Lake, but what stood out most in her memory were the smiles. Everyone inside seemed so happy to be there, talking and laughing with their friends over a meal or cup of coffee. Such portraits of communal happiness were hard to find in her childhood.
She stepped inside, and inquisitive eyes fell on her. In a small town like Tolstone, a newcomer must have been a rare sight. She paid them no mind as she gazed around and grinned like a child who’d just walked into a candy store with a twenty-dollar bill in her fist.
The aesthetic screamed mid-century classic. Her gaze flitted from the black and white checkered tile floor to the teal polyurethane booth covers, the chrome trim around the edges of gray countertops and tables, and finally the old jukebox in the far corner. The waitresses wore pale blue dresses with white aprons, while the short-order cooks tied bandanas across their foreheads to keep hair and sweat out of their faces. The counterthat separated the cooking station from the rest of the dining area was packed with older men in heavy coats holding mugs of steaming coffee.
A heavyset, middle-aged woman greeted her from the register. She swept back a little of her black and silver hair behind her ear and grinned. “You can seat yourself, sweetheart.”
Erica glanced around and her smile faltered. For the last year, she had avoided dining in a restaurant. Saying, “Table for one,” just hit the wrong way and reminded her of how she’d never get the chance to sit across from her mom and share a meal again. For what seemed like the thousandth time, it was painfully obvious that she had gained so much in buying her dream home, but lost so much more.
Erica strode up to the register. “Can I just order something to go?”
The woman reached down and pulled out a menu from underneath the counter. “Sure thing.”
Erica thanked her and stood off to the side to let an older couple pay their bill. So sucked into reading through the variety of different burgers, she didn’t hear the register drawer close or see the woman lean over.
“My name’s Gwen Gabors, by the way,” she said as she offered out her hand.
Erica looked up in a daze and shook her hand out of reflex, but it took her a second to reply with, “Erica Barrett.”
“You’re new in town, aren’t you?”
She smiled. “What gave me away?”
Gwen gave her a once-over and a sparkle came to her dark eyes. “I know pretty much everyone in town, but I’ve never seen you before.”
Erica turned back to the menu. “Yeah, I just moved in today.” Thinking on her feet, she added, “That’s why I’m taking this to-go. I still have a lot of unpacking to do.” She pointed toa particular burger that was described as the Lunar Lantern’s Special. “Three meat patties, bacon, mushrooms, and steak sauce?”
The woman laughed as she pulled out her order pad. “It’s a favorite around here. You want that?”
Erica waved her off. “No, no. That’s too much for me. I’ll just have the regular cheeseburger. No pickles.”
“You got it, honey.”
Gwen wrote up the order and passed it along to her cooks, and Erica heard the slap and sizzle of a fresh patty of ground beef on the grill. The two ladies made a little more small talk while Erica waited for her burger and she discovered that Gwen and her husband, Jaime, owned Lunar Lantern and had been running it for nearly twenty years. It wasn’t the only restaurant in town, but it was certainly the most popular with the locals.
She pointed out theWall of Famecollage of pictures honoring heavy eaters and some loyal regulars.
Before Erica could get closer to examine the many faces of the townspeople, her order was ready. She gave her goodbyes to Gwen and made her exit, still the focus of a few inquisitive diners.
When Erica stepped back out into the square, her eyes trailed up to the evening sky. Thin, cottony veils of clouds stretched across the horizon as the sun’s harsh amber glow chased away the blue from earlier that day. She stopped and watched the sunset, wishing she had brought her camera with her. If she hurried home, perhaps she could take her first photo in Tolstone from her porch.
Erica was nearing the corner of Second Avenue, ready to turn back into the residential part of town, when she nearly skidded to a stop in front of an antique store. The glare from the setting sun caught on the glass lens of something that sat atop an old sewing table. Sitting on the scratched and pitted surface was anarray of old photographs and picture frames. But as beautiful as they were, they didn’t hold her attention like the vintage camera propped up in the center.
She sucked in a tight breath when she saw the tiny wordsRolleiflexin faded lettering above the twin lenses. Its ebony, grainy body was old, and the white trim had been partially worn away by the ravages of time. The names of the German manufacturers were printed just below the brand name, and she was impressed that the rawhide strap was still attached and that the numbers on the diodes were still legible.
Though her food was getting cold and the sunset behind her would soon be gone, Erica had to take a look. If she didn’t, she’d be thinking about that camera all night long. The lights of the antique shop were still on, and the sign hanging against the door stated the store was open for business. She’d only be a minute.
Erica rushed inside and started at the frantic tinkling of the bell above her head. She stood on the welcome mat and stared into the reverent silence of the antique shop. She had been in plenty of stores like this before, since she’d adopted her love of old, vintage things from her mother. They had trekked through dozens of antique stores in her early years, but never one this packed. She was almost afraid to move for fear that she would bump into something and cause the whole fragile arrangement to tumble into a heap.
Everywhere were canes, clocks, tables stacked with crystal goblets and porcelain tea sets, paintings, display cases of guns and knives, boxes of out-of-circulation coins, old license plates hung on the walls, barrels of toys from before World War II, mannequins fashioned in old military uniforms and formal gowns from another era, and shelves lined with pottery and vases that looked to be from all over the world.
The musty air didn’t bother her in the least. This was the smell of priceless treasures, and Erica took a moment to take a deep whiff of it.
“I don’t allow food in my store.”
She jumped at the deep, masculine voice that came from somewhere in the assorted chaos of antiques toward the back of the store. She glanced around, trying to find the source, then down at her food. How could anyone smell the burger from that far away?
“I just stopped in to look at something in your window.” Her eyes continued to search for the man somewhere behind all the shelves and aisles that seemed to go on forever. Erica guessed that he must have seen her come in or maybe heard the static rustling of the plastic takeout bag.
