“Hopefully he signs it soon and we can get this over with.”
“Well, he does have time and I think he’s going to drag this out as long as he can. But I’m here for you, don’t worry.”
“Thanks, Alex. I have to go back to work.”
“Take care, Maggie.”
“You, too.” Maggie hung up the phone and headed back inside. Between the chill outside and the conversation, she had cooled off plenty.
The afternoon saw the teenagers popping in for milkshakes after school, hanging out before going home for dinner. The dinner hours saw more people, often families with small children, or single elders that didn’t feel like cooking for one. The local mechanics shop had their evening hours on Tuesdays so one of their guys came by to pick up a large order for the whole shop. Shorty was behind the grill by then, but Deb was still there, in the office doing paperwork.
While her feet were sore every night when she got back to the bed-and-breakfast, she felt fulfilled for the first time in a long time. No one else paid for the roof over her head or put food in her stomach. Honestly, between the free breakfast at the Haven, and the meals Deb insisted on comping for her, she didn’t have much in the way of expenses. And Virginia was very lenient on when she paid. She’d given her a weekly rate at a steep discount and Maggie was free to stay as long as she liked. Apparently, March was part of the off-season.
She should probably wonder why the hell such a small town would have tourists but she was so grateful for the fresh start that she didn’t want to question it too closely.
At the end of the night, around eleven, she flipped the sign to “Closed” while Shorty cleaned the grill. Maggie piled the dirty dishes into the bus bin, then hefted it onto her hip and swung through the kitchen door. Deb was inside, gathering the garbage from the bin.
“I can get that, Deb,” Shorty called out. He was a tall Black guy, possibly in his sixties, with a receding hairline and the demeanor and body of a teddy bear.
“You’re busy. And I needed to get out from behind that desk.” Deb shook her head as she hefted the bag over her shoulder and headed for the back door. “Those order forms will be the death of me.”
Maggie and Shorty laughed, then returned to their closing duties. Maggie was in the middle of loading the industrial dishwasher when she heard the scream from the alley.
They stopped what they were doing, looked at each other, then bolted for the outside door.
“Deb?”
In the alley behind the diner, Debbie lay in a heap on her side. The garbage bag had broken open beside her. Maggie didn’t feel the cold air despite wearing nothing more than a t-shirt as she ran for her employer.
“Are you okay?”
Deb groaned, but it sounded more like humiliation than pain. “Damn black ice got me.”
Shorty reached down and lifted her up under the arms. “You okay, Debbie?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fi—” Her words cut off with another cry as she tried to stand on her own. Maggie pushed forward to catch her, but Shorty just lifted her by the arms again.
“Shit.”
“What hurts?” Maggie tried to stay calm.
“Left ankle.” Even in the yellow light of the streetlamps, Debbie looked white as a ghost. Maggie hurried to slip her shoulder under Deb’s left arm.
“Lean on me. We’ll get you back inside. Shorty, can you get the door?”
“Sure, Maggie.” He ran ahead and held the door, a beacon of warm light that while it was only ten feet away, took forever to reach at Deb’s slow, pained gait.
Once they had her inside, Maggie set her up in the dining room with an ice pack while Shorty went back outside to deal with the garbage.
“What do you need me to do?”
Deb shooed her away. “Let me ice this while you finish up in here. I should be fine by the time you’re done.”
Maggie bit her lip, but did as she was told, wiping down all the tables, then flipping the chairs upside down and mopping the floor. She hesitated when she came to the section where Deb sat in a booth, her leg up on the bench with the bag of ice.
“Let’s take a look, shall we?” Maggie pulled the bag away and gasped. Deb’s ankle had swollen up like a balloon, turning purple. “Deb… I think you need to go the hospital.”
Deb looked up from her phone and scowled. “What? No way I’m… damn.” She looked down at the ankle and grimaced. “Great.”
