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“Figured as much,” she stated plainly. “I’m Ms. McClintock, but everyone calls me Ms. M. so I guess you might as well too. Now tell me what the problem is.”
I spent the next few minutes telling the slightly aggressive old woman about Alma’s symptoms, and by the time I finished, she was nodding knowingly. “I see. Sounds like you’re dealin’ with the flu. Which means everything you got in that basket, aside from the Pedialyte, is useless.”
She walked me through the cold and flu aisle, pointing out everything I needed to help with Alma’s flu symptoms, to cut the nausea, and to bring down her fever.
“Now, if the fever doesn’t break, or if it gets any worse, you take your lady friend to the emergency room.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered, feeling like I was getting schooled by my great-grandmother.
“And you make sure she drinks that Pedialyte regularly. She has to stay hydrated. That’s very important.”
“You got it.” At her stern look, I quickly amended, “I mean, yes ma’am.”
She gave a single nod. “That’s better. You may be a famous singer, but you still need to mind your manners and respect your elders.”
I bit the corner of my mouth to keep from grinning, not wanting to come off as insincere when she’d been a huge help. “Consider this a lesson learned.”
“Good. Now, when you leave here, you take yourself over to Evergreen Diner and order up a big thing of Ralph’s chicken noodle soup. Ralph’s the cook and the owner. Well, him and his wife, Sally. Anyhoo, they might be a little nuts, but the food at the diner is great, and that chicken soup will knock out anything. Freezes good too, so once she’s feelin’ better you put some of that in her stomach and freeze the rest for later, ’cause she’s gonna need to keep eatin’ light for awhile.”
It was a damn good thing I had a great memory because she was throwing alotat me. A few minutes later she left me, saying she needed to get her blood pressure taken at one of those big, loud machines older people loved to use, and I checked out, looping the handles of the plastic bags full of flu remedies and hauling them to my truck.
I drove over to the diner and headed inside, hoping I could get in and get Alma’s soup without issue. So far, the people of this town who had recognized me hadn’t seemed to care all that much, a massive relief. I could only hope that continued.
The inside was quintessential American diner, with red vinyl stools and booths and those shiny rectangular metal napkin dispensers. The bell over the door let out a jingle as I pushed it open, and a short woman with an apron tied around her waist spun on her heels at the sound.
She braced one hand on a rounded hip while holding a plastic pitcher full of iced tea in the other. “Well, the celebrity finally graces us with his presence. Was wonderin’ when you’d show up at our humble establishment.”
So apparently the news that I was in town had spread far and wide, and I was shocked and pleasantly surprised that there weren’t photographers snapping pictures to sell to tabloids yet. So apparently thiswasthe kind of town that kept to itself and looked out for its own.
What a fucking relief.
“Nice to meet you. I’m—”
“Roan Blackwell,” she provided for me. “I’m Sally. I run this place with my husband Ralph. Speakin’ of...Ralph!” She shouted toward the back, so loud it made me jump.
A huge man with a bushy beard popped up in the passthrough window behind the counter.
“Christ, woman. What are you hollerin’ about?” he shouted just as loudly as the woman.
“That famous singer finally showed!” she hollered...again.
His head swiveled around until his dark eyes landed on me. “Huh, would you look at that,” he continued to boom. I was starting to think that was his normal volume. One corner of his mouth curled up, making that beard twitch. “And it looks like he’s a little worse for the wear.”
For fuck’s sake.So maybe the whole small-town thingwasn’ta relief.
I lifted a hand to prod at my nose as the small woman waved the giant man off. “Oh, don’t you mind him. He gets a kick out of stirring the pot. The man’s a worse gossip than a whole gaggle of old church ladies having lunch.”
“What are you out there blabberin’ about?” Ralph bellowed.
Sally rolled her eyes and shook her head before shouting back, “I’m askin’ him what he’d like to order, you nosy busybody!” Then she looked back to me. “Well? You stayin’ or takin’ your food to go.”
“To go,” I answered quickly, barely managing to swallow down theplease, god, that wanted to follow. “I’d like the chicken noodle soup to go if it’s not a problem.”
“Sure thing.” She pointed at one of the vacant stools in front of the counter. “Just plop yourself down right there and we’ll get to work on that order.”
I did just that, pulling my phone from my back pocket, intending to play a few levels of Candy Crush while I waited, but before I could get started, the person on the stool next to me spoke.
“Heard you got your butt handed to you by a lady.”
