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Driving down the main street, I see such a flurry of activity, much more than when I was here before. Without thinking, I park the Jeep near the diner and go inside. It is busy, but I don’t get as many stares this time, so word must have gotten around to who I am, and I am no longer the leading news item of the local gossip.
Sitting at the bar, I smile at Maria as she leans over and fills up my cup.
“Hey, Maria,” I say chirpily. She is looking much better, still not happy, but not as sad, it appears.
“Hey, darlin’, how are you doing today?” she asks, and I smile.
“I am tired, but good.”
“Well, we have a nice chocolate cake here, shall I grab you a piece?”
I have a chocolate cake at home that I baked at around 4am this morning, but what’s another piece, so I nod my head, eager to try the local diner’s option.
“I thought I might visit the memorial today...” I say to Maria, watching her.
“Well, I went this morning, and there were a lot of flowers, so you will be happy to know that he is getting regular visitors,” she says with a small smile.
I feel for her. I know the pain is unbearable, and like with everything, it is just going to take us time.
“How are you doing, Maria? Are you doing okay?” I ask, because I can feel her sadness seeping out of her.
“I am, but things here at work are challenging at the moment, which isn’t helping.”
“How so?”
“The owners of the diner are city folk. They don’t come here much, and essentially, between myself and the manager, we run the place. But they have been cutting the budgets, and we are barely surviving. They have just been in touch to say they are selling, and if there are no buyers, then they will be shutting us down. It is not likely that there will be any buyers here in Hancock, so it is looking like we will be shut down and I will be without a job.”
“Oh no, that’s terrible. Is there anything we can do?” This poor woman's life is just being decimated at the moment, and given her age, she will find it hard to get regular work now, if anything here in Hancock.
“Unless we can find a buyer, then there isn’t anything anyone can do, my dear.” She sighs with resignation.
“Here, eat the cake, it always makes me feel better.” She smiles and then moves on to the next customer.
I look around the diner, and it is full of people. I wonder why the owners want to sell; it looks like it does a good trade. I grab my fork and take a bite of the cake and immediately wish I hadn’t. It is old and stale, dry, and to be honest, tasteless. I see plates with half eaten food sitting on them, and I am not sure I will be able to eat any more either.
I discreetly place my fork back down and pick up my coffee. I look behind the counter and see some kids in the back, frying up some food, Maria and one other young girl serving, and a small dessert fridge where the cakes live sits at the front.
I stay at the counter for a little while, watching. People come in and out all afternoon, most of them only getting coffee, not food. It is obvious from my observations that everyone comes here to see each other, and if the food was good, there is no doubt that they would be eating it. The coffee is decent, and I haven't tried the other beverages, but surely, they can’t be too bad.
I finish my coffee and have a feeling of excitement bubbling inside my stomach. Since spending time away from the D.C. events scene and being more present with dad, I have realized that I need to do something new and different with my career. Maybe, just maybe, the universe is talking to me and giving me direction, and maybe it is time I listen.
On my way home, I stop to get some more supplies at the grocery store and spend time talking with the older lady at the register. We met briefly the other day, but with less people around now, she has time to talk and tells me all about the community and the people. I find myself genuinely smiling at the affectionate way she describes the community. It turns out her husband is Phil, the Sheriff, and so she tells me to reach out to them if I need anything, and I am grateful for the offer.
The sun is starting to set, so I quickly make my way back to the Jeep and offload my supplies before walking across the street to the memorial park. It is small, and I don’t have to look far to see an area with a lot of flowers, and I head in that direction.
I stand, looking down at a beautiful plaque, a mass of flowers, some old, some fresh, and my heart breaks and tears fall. But I am happy, happy that dad had so many people in his lovely town that he called friends.
I sit quietly and as the sun sets, breathing in the fresh air, and feel my body relax. It is so nice to be away from the city. The people here are lovely, the town is a hive of friendly activity, and even though the food isn’t great, the diner is certainly one of the main attractions for them.
I think about Jake. I haven’t seen him since he left my place this morning, but I know he is busy with work, and now lumping my security issue onto him probably isn’t helping. I feel bad, it isn’t really his problem to have to look after me. Perhaps I will bake him a berry pie; it was dad's special recipe, and I am sure Jake will love it. From memory, there is a clearing not far from the cabin which has the best raspberries, so I make it my mission to find it in the morning so I can bake the pie tomorrow.
Walking back to my Jeep, I make the short journey home. As I pull up, I notice Jake’s truck isn’t home when I get back. I remember that he had a darts night tonight, so must have left already.
My phone starts ringing, startling me from my thoughts. I grab it as I get out of the car, and I see my mother’s name flash on the screen. I guess now is as good a time as any. So, I answer.
“Hi, mom.”
“Hi, Isabelle.”
