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“It is. I’ve met some great people. What do you do?”
“I’m a teacher,” Portia said.
“What grade?” Allen asked.
“Second grade. I wish the benefits were better.”
Allen nodded. “I’ve heard some stories about the school system.”
Portia smiled. “Thankfully for me, I love what I do and I feel like I’m making a difference with the kids.”
“This is good.” Morgan gestured between the two of them. “I think you two are hitting it off great.”
“Allen, don’t you have to be somewhere?” Desmond asked. His cousin’s eyes widened and lowered to the table.
Allen's lips parted, but he reached for his phone inside his pocket. He saw a text from Desmond.
7:33 PM… Desmond: Sorry about Morgan. I’ll talk to her. Tell her you need to leave. Make up something man!
Allen scratched the back of his head. This was his ticket out. He sighed. He could have dinner. He shook his head and stuffed his phone back inside his pocket.
“Allen’s new in town,” Morgan said to Portia.
“Do you like it here so far?” Portia asked him.
Maybe he should have taken Desmond’s advice and left. “Yeah, it’s much quieter here compared to the city.”
“Where were you before?”
“Houston,” Allen said, picking up a menu. His skin prickled at the thought of small talk but he was trying. He needed to get out more. He couldn’t stay in his house all the time, although it sounded better than chewing the inside of his cheek.
“I can’t imagine living anywhere other than Maple Meadow. I’m glad you’re here,” Morgan said.
Allen gave a faint smile. She meant well, but she was persistent.
“So what looks good?” Desmond picked up his menu. “I’m thinking the chicken fried steak.”
Portia tapped her fingers to her lips as she perused the menu. “I’m thinking the chicken fried chicken.”
The bell chimed again and Allen turned his head towards the door. A familiar face and his lips parted recognizing the woman from the store. What was her name? He knew her name. Heather. That had to be it. Bundled inside her coat, she walked over to the pickup line. Mabel’s did pickups? Allen would have to try it during his lunch hours.
Heather greeted the worker behind the counter and then stood off to the side next to the under glass domes, filled with several fruits and meringue pies. Allen stared. Why? She wasn’t the only beautiful woman in town. Portia was beautiful but Heather had his attention. She swayed back and forth on her booted feet as she waited. She even smiled to herself. What brought that smile?
“Allen?” Desmond said.
Allen blinked. The waiter stood with her notepad and pen waiting for his order. He cleared his throat. “Sure, I’ll have… the meatloaf.”
The waiter smiled and Allen handed her his menu.
“Feeling okay?” Portia asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be back.” He stood from the booth and headed for the restrooms. Only, he had to pass the pickup area. Heather sat on the wooden bench with her legs crossed.
What would he say? His heart palpitated and his mouth went dry. Shaking his head, he weaved in and out of the maze of tables, coming to the open area. Heather looked up, and he locked eyes with her. She sat back in her chair.
“You’re following me? Should I call the sheriff?” She smiled biting her lower lip.
“No, I’m here for the meatloaf.” Not his best comeback line but it was the truth. Women liked honesty, didn’t they?
