Chapter 3

Annie swiped the rag over the countertop and again glanced toward the plate-glass windows.  She smiled gently as she watched the two men huddled together under the hood of the old blue Impala, which now sat in one of the service station’s bays.

“Annie!  Order up!”  The cook’s deep baritone voice rumbled over the country music playing on the jukebox.

“Got it.”  Annie turned around to take the two plates of food from the ledge of the window separating the kitchen from the lunch counter. 

“You been smilin’ ever since you got here,” Otis observed, a wide grin creasing his weathered ebony face.  “What you got goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, Child?”

Annie chuckled and turned away.  “Nothin’, Otis.  I’m just in a good mood.”  She carried the plates around the counter and over to the table in the corner. 

“Here ya go, Handsome,” she said sweetly to the sixty-something man as she set his meal in front of him.  “And for you, sweetheart,” she added to the little girl who was her Pappy’s dining companion, setting her cheeseburger and fries on the table.  “Y’all need anything else?”  When they shook their heads, Annie retreated to her post behind the counter.  She couldn’t help but look again out the window at the activity in Eddie’s garage.

The restaurant’s proprietor shared a grin with Otis.  “You got an interest in that blue Impala across the street?”  Tillie Mayweather had known Annie since she was a toddler, and considered the girl her own kin.  As self-appointed second mother, Tillie knew exactly what was going on in Annabelle’s mind.

Annie made a face at Tillie before again breaking into a gentle grin.  “Not particularly,” she replied evasively.  “Just wondering what’s wrong with it.  I think it might be the radiator.”

“Oh really?”  Tillie arched a brow as she smirked.  “You know somethin’ about cars, all of a sudden?”

“Maybe,” Annie replied playfully, knowing she couldn’t fool her boss and guardian angel.

“I think maybe you want to know a little somethin’ more about that young Hippie Boy you towed into town.” Otis grinned as he voiced Tillie’s thoughts.

Annie rolled her eyes.  “His name is Richie, and he’s not a hippie.  He just has long hair, that’s all.”  She smiled again as she watched Richie pop his head out from under the hood, shaking back his shaggy dark hair with the movement.  “And I’m just trying to be nice to the poor guy.  Wouldn’t you want somebody to help you out if your car broke down on the road in some strange place?”

“Sure would,” Otis nodded.  “And I’d be mighty happy if it was a pretty young lady like yourself who helped me along.”  He gave Annabelle another big grin.  “Judging from the number of times that boy has looked over here, I think he’s lookin’ for a chance to thank you in person.”

“Oh Otis,” Annie sighed dramatically.  “I told him to come over when Eddie’s done looking at his car, and get some supper.  He’s not goin’ anywhere tonight, and he’s gotta eat, don’t he?”

“Sure does,” Otis chuckled.  “From the looks of him, that boy could use some home cookin’.  He’s skinny as a rail.”

Annie smiled a little more brightly as she saw Richie turn and look toward the restaurant.  He ran a hand through his hair, then turned to nod at Eddie, who lowered the Impala’s hood. 

“Well, he’s not gonna get better home-cookin’ anywhere than here,” Annie replied softly, distracted by what was going on across the street.

Tillie chuckled warmly and shook her head at Annie’s obvious interest in the young stranger.  She could understand; he was a handsome kid, and from what Annie had described of their encounter he seemed to be a polite young man as well. 

Tillie knew it was Annie’s nature to befriend everyone; she wasn’t one to turn someone away who needed help or just a little kindness.  If Annie had a fault, it was that her big-heartedness left her vulnerable.  Despite enduring more than her share of heartbreak in her short life, Annabelle Foster was still generous and optimistic and possessed of a romantic soul.  

No, she wasn’t going to just drop that kid off at Eddie’s garage and go about her business.  Tillie could see that as far as Annie was concerned, Richie was her business, for however long he stuck around.

“Well,” Tillie smoothed the apron down over her ample middle.  “When your new friend comes over for supper be sure you give him a piece of that cherry pie I just took out of the oven.”  She smiled when Annie turned to arch a questioning brow at her comment.  “He looks like he could use a little takin’ care of.”

Annie looked back at the window, her smile broadening as she watched Richie shake hands with Eddie then start to walk across the street toward a restaurant.  “Everybody can use another friend, Miss Tillie,” she observed quietly.

“I reckon so.”  Tillie exchanged another look with Otis, then slipped past Annabelle to check on the patrons at the corner table.

Richie took a deep breath, his pace slowing a bit as he neared Annabelle’s pickup truck.  He knew she was watching him; he had seen her in his own stolen glances at the restaurant while he and Eddie looked at his car.  Taking advantage of the truck blocking Annie’s view of him, Richie hesitated and wiped his sweaty palms against his denim-clad thighs.  He wasn’t sure why he was nervous, but he was.

With another deep breath Richie stepped up to the little diner’s glass door.  The soft tinkle of a bell announced his arrival.  Richie paused for a moment in the doorway, his dark head swiveling as he looked around the room.  His quick sweeping gaze took in the old Wurlitzer jukebox in the corner to his right, next to three tables against the plate-glass windows fronting the building. 

To his left, between another large window and a wood-paneled wall were two more pairs of tables.   The table in the corner was occupied by an old man and a grinning little girl.  Richie smiled back at the child before his eyes were drawn upward, to the black and white kitty clock on the wall above her head. 

He chuckled softly as he watched the pendulum-tail and the round eyes of the cat move side-to-side in unison while the second hand ticked around the clock face on the cat’s belly.  The diner he used to go to back home in Jersey had one of those kitty clocks.  A tiny wave of homesickness rippled through him, followed by a stab of guilt and disappointment.  He would be seeing that clock again soon, probably when he and his old man got off their night shift at the factory.

“So?  Ya hungry?”

Richie was pulled from his thoughts by the sweet, musical sound of Annie’s voice.  Immediately his sad smile gentled and he turned to look at her.  She was standing behind the gray formica-topped counter, pouring iced tea from a pitcher into a red plastic tumbler.  Annie’s blue eyes sparkled as she gave him a welcoming smile.

“Yeah, actually.”  Richie moved toward the counter, crossing the small room in three long strides.  He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket before settling on a vinyl-topped stool at the counter.  “What’s good?”

Annie chuckled and set the glass of iced tea on the counter in front of Richie.  “Everything.  But we have some specials today…”

“Howdy, Young Man.”  Tillie interrupted Annie’s recital of the menu before she could begin, strolling over to stand in front of Richie.  “Welcome to Darien.  I’m Tillie Mayweather, and this here’s Otis.”  The woman fluttered her hand beside her head, waving distractedly at the grinning Negro cook.  “I hear you had a little bad luck with your car.”

Richie nodded, smiling shyly.  “Yes, Ma’am.”  He was reasonably sure he was safe calling this plump, gray-haired woman “Ma’am.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”  Tillie pointed toward Richie’s wallet, which he had placed on the counter.  “Put that away.  Supper’s on the house for first-timers.”

Richie’s brown eyes widened with surprise.  “Uh… okay.  Thank you, Ma’am.”  He looked from Tillie to Annie, then smiled gratefully.  “Thank you very much.  I haven’t had a good meal in awhile.”

“From the looks of you, you haven’t had a good meal in a couple years,” Tillie replied, tsk-tsking as she looked Richie up and down.  “You don’t have much meat on your bones… What’s your name?”

“Richie, Ma’am.”  Richie chuckled at Tillie’s good-natured scolding.  “Actually, my Ma is a great cook.  But I haven’t been home in a long time.”

“Well, that’s a shame.”  Tillie smiled, this time a little more kindly.  He really did seem like a nice young man.  “I think we can come up with a little somethin’ to fill your belly.  You like meat loaf and mashed taters?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Richie grinned, chortling softly at the woman’s deep Southern twang as she pronounced “taters.”

“Otis!  Special for our young friend Richie!”  Tillie barked out her order to the fry cook before looking from Richie to Annabelle.  “Now I’m gonna take my break.  I’ll be out back if you need me.”  She turned and walked around the end of the counter, tugging at the strings of her apron as she moved.  “Oh, Annabelle…” she paused and looked back over her shoulder.  “Don’t forget dessert.”

“I got it, Miss Tillie,” Annie chuckled.  She turned her attention back to Richie as her boss pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen.  “I think she likes you.”

“She just met me.”  Richie reached for the glass and took a long drink of sweet tea.  He exhaled after nearly draining the glass.  He hadn’t realized just how thirsty he was.  “How could she like me?”

Annie automatically reached behind the counter for the pitcher to refill Richie’s glass.  “She’s been watching you for the past hour.  And she’s an excellent judge of character.”  Annie’s blue eyes met Richie’s as she smiled again, gently.

Richie blushed and looked down at the counter.  Remembering Miss Tillie’s command, he stuffed his wallet back into his pocket.  He was thankful for the free meal; he only had a few dollars to his name and he had no idea how he was going to pay for his car repair.

As if reading his mind, Annie asked the question.  “So, what’s wrong with your car?  Did you and Eddie figure it out?”

Richie nodded and took another drink of sweet tea.  “Thermostat.”

Annie grimaced.  “That sounds like it’s something important.”

Richie chuckled, remembering her earlier admitted lack of knowledge when it came to automotive matters.  “Yeah, it’s pretty important.  And mine’s busted.”

“Can Eddie fix it?”

Richie nodded again and looked up at Annie.  His heart warmed at the genuine concern in her expression.  “Yeah.  He said he can probably get the part tomorrow, but it may be Monday before he can get it installed.  He’s closed on Sunday.”

“Yeah.”  Annie smiled.  “So, guess you’ll be hangin’ around for a few days, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”  Richie looked down at the counter again, his smile fading.  He took another drink, uncomfortable with the realization that he had no earthly idea what he was going to do for an entire weekend.  For starters, he had no place to stay. 

“Um, is there a motel here in town?”  Richie was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question.  He didn’t recall passing one by before his car broke down.

“Nope.  Closest one is in Brunswick, fourteen miles.”  Annie saw Richie’s worried frown.  “Miss Anita rents out a couple rooms of her house over on Ash Street, but she already has some boarders.”  Her smile gentled.  “But you don’t need to worry about finding a room.  I got a couch.”

“Huh?”  Richie looked up, surprised. 

Annie chuckled.  “I said, I got a couch.  You can stay with me.”

“You sure?”  Richie could hardly believe what Annie was saying.  She was offering to take him, a complete stranger, into her home.  “I mean… I can sleep in my car.”

“That would be quite a sight,” Annie chortled.  She turned around to take the heaping plate of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans from the ledge behind her at Otis’ quiet rumble of “Order Up!”  Setting the meal on the counter in front of Richie, she smiled again.  “My couch ain’t the most comfortable, but at least your feet won’t be sticking out the window.”

Richie laughed softly at her tease, then smiled gratefully.  “Thanks.”  Again their eyes met, and Annie saw the sincerity of his sentiment.

“You’re welcome.”  Annie reached across the counter to give Richie’s arm a little squeeze.  “Now dig in, before that gets cold.  I’ll be right back.”  She turned away and headed for the swinging door to the kitchen.  In a glance back over her shoulder she saw Richie eagerly shovel a huge fork-full of meat loaf into his mouth.  Annie chuckled softly to herself and pushed through the door.

Wandering over to the stove against the back wall, Annie picked up one of the two freshly-baked cherry pies cooling on the stovetop.  She turned toward the counter, preparing to cut a slice for Richie’s dessert.  She was surprised to find herself face-to-face with her boss and surrogate mother.

“Annabelle Foster.  What are you doing?”  Tillie’s voice was stern, laced with concern.

Annie hesitated for a moment, then stepped around Tillie to the counter.  “What do you mean?” she asked calmly, setting down the pie and pulling a knife from a drawer.

“You know perfectly well what I mean.”  Tillie braced her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. 

Annie sighed.  “Miss Tillie, he doesn’t know anybody here in town.  He obviously don’t have much money, he’s got no place to stay.  I live alone; there’s plenty of room.”  She half-turned to look at Tillie.  “It’s the Christian thing to do, to help somebody in need, ain’t it?”

Tillie pressed her lips together in a firm line.  “It’s not proper for a single woman to have a strange man – or any man, for that matter – spend the night in her house.  Not even on the couch.  Your Mama wouldn’t approve of such behavior.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes and sighed again before giving the older woman a direct look.  “Miss Tillie.  This is a small town.  You know as well as I do that I haven’t been ‘proper’ for awhile now.”  She tried not to smirk as Tillie’s jaw tightened. “And as for my Mama, God rest her soul…. She doesn’t really have any say in the matter.”

Otis’ soft baritone chuckle broke the silence.  “She’s right, Miss Tillie.  Annie’s a grown woman.  She can make her own decisions.”  He looked through the window at Richie, grinning as he watched the skinny kid eating with gusto.  “And she’s a pretty danged good judge of people.  It’ll be fine.”  Otis winked at Annabelle when she gave him a thankful smile.  “Besides, it’s none of our business what she and that Hippie Boy get up to.  And we probably don’t wanna know.”

Tillie threw up her hands in surrender.  “All right.   Just don’t make me say I told you so, Annabelle.  I know you want to help every poor soul whose path crosses yours, which is sweet.  But you need to remember yourself, too.”

“I know, Miss Tillie.  I know.  I’ll be fine.”  Annie’s smile gentled as she glanced through the window at Richie.  “So will he.  I’m gonna make sure of that.”