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“Well you deserve one.” I nodded, feeling a swell of sympathy for my friend. LA was a town of judgment and ridicule. I’d done my share of dieting and tabloid photo analyzing. too. Maybe that's why I'd been feeling such a pull to get out lately. It was more than my business idea. I was craving a whole lifestyle change.
Marjorie returned with our drinks, setting them down, then scooting off to take the order of a table a few booths down. I watched as the men sitting there—real-life cowboys, it seemed—ordered without looking at the menus. They tipped their hats and Marjorie laughed as they shared a joke.
“Let's toast to the first meal of many in Whittier Falls,” Zaya suggested, pulling my attention back to our table.
“Cheers,” we echoed, the clink of our glasses making it official.
And to new beginnings, I thought to myself.
* * *
After a round of cheeseburgers and chili fries, our stomachs were content, if not a little over-stuffed.
“That was the best burger I've ever had, Marjorie,” Skylar said as our waitress cleared our plates.
“Well I don't doubt it. Ernie's been makin' these burgers same way since 1978. And you call me Marge. I have a feeling you'll be around a lot this week,” she said with a wink.
“Oh we sure will.”
Marge set the bus bin behind the counter and returned to the table.
“Are we doing dessert? Y'all have to try our homemade pies.”
I glanced at the others, all contentedly full and by the look of it, slipping into food comas any minute now.
“Oh I wish, Marge, but I don't think we can eat another morsel.”
“Suit yourselves. Just hafta come back tomorrow, then,” she said with a knowing smile.
Skylar stood up. “Marge, do you mind if we take some photos of the place?”
“For Instagram,” Zaya explained, at Marge's confused look which quickly turned into one of excitement.
“Oh my word, I sure don't mind at all. You all take photos of whatever you need!”
Skylar was already pointing her phone at the vintage menu board above the kitchen window. She moved closer to get shots from different angles. I noticed the cowboys watching her and couldn't help but study them.
The one facing us had kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His hair was dark, almost black, and his blue plaid shirt complemented his tan skin. The other cowboy could only be seen in his side profile as he turned his head to get a better look at Skylar photographing the pie case. He had a strong jaw with a scruffy sort of stubble and lighter hair than the other, but still dark. His face was pulled down into a scowl and for some reason, it had me wanting to see more.
“Turn around,” I whispered under my breath.
Blue shirt guy said something and laughed but the other one just turned back to face him and shook his head. Damn.
“Where are y'all from, anyway?” Marge asked, as I reengaged in the conversation.
“LA,” Zaya said.
“By way of Italy, in my case,” Enzo remarked, preening like he usually did whenever someone gave him the chance to mention it.
Marge slapped her knee. “You know I thought that might be the case. How exotic! Whatcha all doin' here in Whittier Falls?”
“We rented a house up on the mountain,” I said. “We wanted to get away but not visit one of those big touristy resorts.” That was mostly true. “Google said Whittier Falls has the best mountain trails.”
Marge’s eyes widened and her smile stretched across her face. “Oh, it sure does. Not that I get up there anymore. But when I was younger, I used to go every weekend. Town gets its name from the falls all throughout the range. They say there's still waterfalls that haven't been discovered yet, but I doubt that. You never know, of course.” She batted her hand and opened her mouth to continue but a booming voice rudely interrupted.
“Jesus, Marge, can we get the damn check or are you too busy for your regulars?”
The diner fell silent. The side-profile cowboy was now fully on display, his body turned toward us and his eyes most assuredly not as kind as his dining companion's. But something about them had me unable to look away
