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HUNTER
“Make a right turn here,”I instruct Catherine as she twists the small steering wheel of her sister’s car.
“Okay, I give up. I have no clue where you are taking me and that’s saying something. I grew up here.” She shoots me a side grin before focusing on the road again.
Over the last ten minutes I’ve had her do two loops through the heart of the town. The car provides me several advantages. It allows me to take in the town in more detail than I could if I were driving and its distinctive style and color causes people to stop and take notice. By the time Palmer’s rumor spreads, half the town will admit to having seen Catherine and me together. “We’re almost there. Three more blocks and then a left.”
Her hand smacks the steering wheel. “We’re having lunch at Madison’s Cafe?”
I nod. “Yeah, best fry bread tacos in Mesa.” I repeat the tag line from their website. Since I’ve arrived in Mesa, I’ve had lunch and dinner at each of the top spots in the city. I need to get a sense of the local cuisine, what the locals enjoy, and more importantly, why.
“That’s because you haven’t tasted my mom’s.” Her face fills with unabashed joy. Something I’ve noticed whenever she mentions her family. I take the opportunity to dive in.
On the drive I’ve begun to probe into Catherine’s background. Her parents’ back story, her sister, and the fact that Catherine left Mesa and now lives in Indiana. “It must be difficult living so far from your family.” Her smile fades and the life in her eyes tamper down and I regret that my words caused this reaction.
“It is,” she starts then pauses. Her gaze runs over me, glazing over and lacking focus as she stares through my open window. The window is down, and a warm breeze gracefully eases her long dark hair across her face, and I steal yet another glance at her intense dark eyes. A million thoughts must flow through that wonderful mind. A horn blows behind us as I realize we had been sitting at a stop sign too long. “Sorry.” She waves a hand to the rear-view mirror and pulls the car away. “Every year it gets harder. Especially now that Adrienne is back home from college. I feel like I’m missing out on so much. The sense of FOMO is real. Each visit home it becomes clearer and clearer that I’m missing out on so much.”
I understand the feelings. Me and my siblings experience something similar. My oldest brother Xavier technically lives in Baltimore but returns to Atlanta so often that my parents call the guest room, Xavier Hall. “You had to strike out and find your own path.” I’m reaching, attempting to connect the bits of her life that I know and the breadcrumbs she’s dropped during our drive.
“That’s what I tell myself. And don’t get me wrong, I’m in a good place professionally.”
“Not many people can say that.”
“True. If I had stayed in Mesa, however, I’d probably be married to Palmer, and we’d be on our way to the two point three kids he’s always wanted.”
I can’t stop the laugh from erupting from my mouth. “You and Palmer?”
She bursts into a laugh. “Right? That’s what staying in a small town will do to you. You begin to believe this is the entire world.”
“It’s good to be pushed out of your comfort zone.” I cringe, hearing the gaping hole I’ve left open and hope she’s too distracted pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot to notice.
“Is that why you’re here in Mesa. You left Georgia, right? It’s not like its next door or that you have any relatives or friends here. Talk about getting out of your comfort zone.” She doesn’t miss much. Smart, caring, perceptive, and beautiful. She’s checking off more boxes than I can keep track of – more than most women I meet check off in a month of Sundays.
I don’t allow myself to fall into that distraction and escape the car and her question at the same time.
Madison Cafe is a popular restaurant located two blocks off the main strip, yet the parking lot is packed even on a late weekday afternoon. Legendary Hall may be losing customers, but it has nothing to do with the town. There are more than enough customers with the means to support businesses that know what they’re doing.
We step to the hostess table and are greeted by a cheerful college aged woman with a neatly pressed white cotton top and grass green skirt. “Welcome to Madison Cafe. Do you have a reservation?”
“Farro. Reservation is for one but as you can see, I’ve been graced with a beautiful companion.” I shoot a smile toward Catherine who lowers her chin and attempts to hide the blush forming on her cheeks. My breath hitches and my chest tightens with her reaction.
The hostess scans the iPad on the tabletop and swipes. “That’s not a problem. I have the perfect high top for two. Is this your first time here?” She scoops two menus from the stand and turns. I step back and gesture for Catherine to go first.
“My first time but my girlfriend here is a regular.” I double down on our deceit, wanting to hear the words off my lips but more importantly, wanting to see Catherine’s reaction. The first part is an unmitigated success, I hear the pride in my voice and feel the pounding in my chest. The jury remains out on the second part, Catherine walks ahead of me and I’m unable to record her response.
“I wouldn’t say regular. I’ve not lived here for several years. It’s been a while,” she clarifies.
The hostess holds the back of the chair for Catherine as I slip into the chair across from her. “Well then, I recommend the fry bread taco…”
“The best in Mesa,” I complete for her. “I saw your IG.”
The hostess gives us a polite giggle and a head nod in my direction. She places the menus on the table, and I plow forward in information collection mode. “Outside of your special, what other dishes do you recommend? What is the one dish your regulars come back for time and time again?”
She huffs out a happy breath before rattling off half a dozen items. I memorize each and observe Catherine out of the corner of my eye. The corners of her eyes tighten slightly, her gaze flickering from the hostess to me and back again. At one point her lips separate as if about to speak, but she closes it just as quick.
I thank the hostess who nods in my direction before returning to the front of the restaurant. I turn to face Catherine who tilts her head slightly, eyes still slightly squinted. “I know you’re too nice of a guy to be flirting in front of me, especially after declaring we’re item.” I search her tone for hurt or anger and find neither. She leans across the table, her hand landing on my forearm. “Care to tell me what that was about and don’t try to tell me it was about deciding what to eat. I think I know enough about your skills of observation to know you probably researched the entire menu before you made your reservation.”
I snicker and adjust the napkin across my lap to buy myself some time. It’s been a minute since I’ve been around a woman this sharp that doesn’t carry my last name. I debate telling her the answer she is seeking and instead fall back on my script. “Just curious to see what’s popular in this part of the country. The Legendary menu looks as if it hasn’t been updated in twenty years.”
