Page 9 of Good Directions

“I don’t. Besides, my dear, if you don’t mind my sayin’, you look like what you really need is a cold drink and something to eat.”

Spoken like a true dad, his words hit me hard. Because yes, I absolutely do need both of those things. Breakfast was hours ago at this point, and stupid me didn’t grab a water bottle as I was running out the door because “it’s only a couple hour drive.”

Ha. Serves me right.

“That would be nice, but⁠—”

“No buts, Miss… I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself, did I? Ken Noble at your service.” He holds out his hand to shake, then pulls back quickly, realizing it is greasy again.

I giggle silently, already starting to fall in love with the man who is clearly the town dad.

“Sawyer Brown.”

“Well, Miss Sawyer, we should get you over to Dolly’s. It’s just round the corner, and she’ll get you all fixed up. Plus, rumor has it that Miss Belle is over there today, which means the best sweet tea in Georgia is bein’ served.”

This is the second time I have heard about this tea. Can it really be that good?

I mean, I’m a Southerner, so I know that sweet tea is serious business. And one does not argue with a Southern woman about her tea. But for two different strangers to brag on this tea, it must really be something.

Sweet tea also sounds heaven-sent.

A few minutes later, I’m climbing out of Ken Noble’s bright red pickup in front of Dolly’s, which looks exactly as the fruit-stand guy described it—a little country store with an old-fashioned Coke sign. Actually, it’s not all that little. The façade might be, but the building is clearly deeper than it is wide and it appears to have been here for a long, long time. Dolly’s is scribbled across the door in a script that looks brand-new, right above a piece of paper showing off the A health rating.

Well, that’s a good sign…

Ken opens the door, holding it for me to walk in first, a glorious whoosh of cold air hitting like a linebacker tackling the quarterback on fourth down. I pause, relishing the goose bumps that race up my skin, sending a harsh shiver down my spine from the temperature differential.

“Hey y’all! Be right with you!” a bubbly voice greets.

“It’s just me,” Ken announces. “And I’m not staying. Just dropping off Miss Sawyer here to wait while I fix her car.”

“Ken!”

My head whips around, eyes landing on the most graceful-looking woman I’ve ever seen, sitting at the counter. Tall, lean, with blonde hair that reminds you of the color of summer, she looks like she belongs on a catwalk. Everything about her is impeccable—hair, makeup, sundress, all of it. I’ve never seen a more put-together human being in my life.

And I look like a sewer rat who drowned in their own sweat.

“I heard you were over here today, Belle. Does that mean there’s tea?” Ken waggles his eyebrows, as if it were some secret code, making her titter.

She pushes up from her seat, taking three long, graceful steps toward us, closing the gap. It’s so effortless, she almost looks like she’s floating.

“You think we made some up and weren’t going to bring you a glass? Ken Noble, it’s like you don’t know me.”

For a second I think they’re flirting, then I see it. The very large diamond ring on Miss Belle’s left hand. Then again, I suppose that doesn’t mean they aren’t flirting…

“Miss Belle, this is Sawyer.” He ushers me farther into the diner, and a few of the other patrons look up from their meals to gaze at us. “Her AC went out, so I need to get back so I can get to fixin’ it. Sawyer, this is Miss Belle, and she and her almost daughter-in-law, Dolly, will make sure you’re taken care of. If not, she’ll have me to answer to.”

The smile falls from Miss Belle’s face, one eyebrow quirking upward, in a look that could stop traffic. One that delivers the message loud and clear—she cannot believe he just said that.

“You do not scare me, Ken Noble,” she says, her voice still even and composed. Clearly an old school Southern belle, and not about to take shit from anyone.

Ken simply shrugs, giving up. “I tried.”

“Here you go!” An energetic blonde with blue eyes rounds a corner, presumably out of the kitchen, with a large jug of tea and a to-go box. She walks over to us and hands them to Ken, kissing him on the cheek. “One jug of tea, plus a BLT.” She looks around and then lowers her voice slightly, as if to not sound conspicuous, adding “with real bacon.”

“You sure do know the way to a man’s heart, Dolly.”

I smile, turning away slightly so that they don’t think I’m staring. But, I can’t help it. My heart warms, loving how at home this place feels, and I’ve only been here for two minutes. However, in that two minutes, I’ve seen small-town goodness come to life—the things that make people want to live in a place like this, with a diner like this one, surrounded by people like Ken.