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I dig a ten out of my wallet and hand it over. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you,” she replies, tossing what’s left into a jar behind the counter. “Give me two minutes, and I’ll have it ready.” With that, she spins around quickly and heads off to the kitchen, leaving me standing where I am.
The bell sounds behind me, but I don’t have the desire to turn and see who has entered. Pine Village is at peak tourist season, meaning the cabins and campgrounds are all full of out-of-towners here to take advantage of the national preserve. Between fishing, trail riding, and hiking, there’s plenty to do all summer long.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Blair says, stepping beside me and pulling me into a hug.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, even though I don’t need to. There’s only one reason she’d be here. Waving my hand, I add, “Never mind. Stupid question.”
“Your brother is finishing up with a patient who is talking his ear off, so I decided to run over and see if they have any meatloaf left.”
“You may be in luck. I’ve seen plates of it coming out of the kitchen, so they must still be serving it.”
“Oh good.” She places a hand on her flat belly. “This baby is craving it like no other. I begged Gabe to make it for me last night. It was nothing like Saul’s,” she states with a chuckle.
“There is something magical about it,” I say, just as Ellie returns from the kitchen with a bag.
“Hey, Blair!” she greets eagerly. “One second.” She grabs a Styrofoam cup off the shelf, scoops a little ice into it, and fills the cup with Sprite. “All right, Hal, you’re all set.”
Blair glances down at my small bag. “No meatloaf for you?”
“No, my stomach has been a little funny today. Probably all the nerves from starting a new school year on Monday,” I tell her.
She nods in understanding, but the look in her eyes is skeptical. “We’ve seen a few cases of summer upper respiratory infections, but no flu yet. Usually that doesn’t rear its ugly head until mid-fall.”
“I told her she was probably pregnant,” Ellie chimes in, making Blair’s eyes widen.
“She’s kidding,” I mutter.
Blair nods as Ellie asks, “What can I get you, Blair?”
“Two meatloaf specials to go, if you still have some.”
“We do,” Ellie informs her while making the note on the order pad. “Anything to drink?”
“No, thanks.”
“All right, let me get this in. It will only take a couple of minutes,” Ellie assures her before she buzzes back to the kitchen to place the order. When she returns a minute later, her tray is piled with more food as she heads out to deliver the plates.
“You don’t look fevered,” Blair states, her observing eyes focused on me.
“I don’t think I have one. Just a little upset stomach is all. I ate a fast breakfast on my way out the door this morning and have been finishing getting everything ready for Monday. I’m sure it was a combination of eating too fast, stress, and having lunch later than normal.” I shrug my shoulders, hoping she realizes this isn’t a big deal.
“All right,” she replies with a slow nod. “Your brother is going to Hudson this afternoon to see a patient and the schedule isn’t too heavy, so if you want to come in, just text me.”
“Thanks,” I tell my oldest friend as I grab my soup and cup of Sprite. “Have a great afternoon. Tell my brother I said hello.”
“I will. I’ll check on you later,” she replies as another to-go bag comes from the kitchen and is placed in front of her.
I want to tell her it’s not necessary, but her attention is turned to Ellie, who approaches the counter and starts to ring her up. I wave goodbye to a few patrons before slipping out the front entrance and making my way to my Jeep. The soup smells amazing, and it takes all my self-control not to just rip into it right here and now. My stomach is growling, my mouth watering, but since there isn’t a spoon in the bag, I decide to hold off until I get home.
The drive home is short, and as I pull into my little driveway, I press the button for the garage door to open. Not even bothering to close the door behind me, I make my way inside my condo through the garage entrance and practically race to the drawer for a spoon. Dropping my purse on the counter, I pull the contents from the bag out and remove the lid. The chicken and rice goodness fills my senses and makes my mouth water once more. Lifting the spoon, I dive into the warm soup and take my first hearty bite.
“Oh my God,” I groan in happiness, just as my stomach lets a hard jolt.
Definitely not happy right now.
I push the soup away and cover my mouth with my hand. What the hell is going on? Closing my eyes, I count to ten and slowly inhale and exhale. It takes the second round of counting before my stomach calms down again and the unsettled feeling passes. Unfortunately, my appetite has passed too, and the soup no longer sounds—or smells—appealing.
