by Ami Diane
“Oh, that. Yeah, our weather’s a little different here.” With delicate hands, Rose cut into her eggs. “The Twin Hills give us a—what do they call that, Jimmy?”
“Microclimate’s what the professor calls it,” he said. Rose nodded in agreement.
Crazy Flo waved her fork, a chunk of ham hitting Edwin in the face. “When were you born?”
“I’m sorry?” Ella was more thrown by the abrupt shift in conversation topic rather than the question.
“Flo!” Rose pursed her lipstick-slathered mouth into a line, her cheeks flushing.
“What? It’s not like I asked her what year it was.”
Ella bit back a laugh, turning over the strange phrasing. Not How old are you? but when were you born? “It’s fine. I was born in 1985.”
“See?” Florence’s white hair bounced like an explanation point on the word. “I bet she’s got loads of knowledge up there.” The end of her now-naked fork pointed at Ella’s head. “Loads. Seems like the educated type. You go to high school, young lady?”
Ella nearly choked on her last bite of bread. “Yes, ma’am. And college. I’m working on my master’s degree right now, actually.”
“Really?” Edwin’s eyes lit up.
“Well, how ‘bout that? An educated woman.” Flo slurped her coffee, all the while, her beady eyes remaining on Ella.
Pulling up a napkin to pretend dabbing away bits of food, Ella covered her half-smile, half-bewildered expression. This had to be the strangest group of people she’d ever met.
After her fourth slice of banana bread and the last drip of coffee from her cup were gone, Ella scooted her chair back and rubbed her snug waistband.
“Thank you for the delicious meal. Is there a computer I can use? I can’t seem to get a cell phone signal to pull in my email.”
Rose blinked at her. Jimmy rubbed the thinning halo of hair on his crown. “Our phone only makes local calls.”
“Oh. And the computer?”
“Sorry, we don’t have one,” Jimmy said.
“Oh.” Ella shrugged. “No worries. I’ll try somewhere else.”
After getting directions to Lou’s shop, Ella ran back to her room and grabbed her wallet, hoping she could find an ATM after she had spoken with the mechanic.
Stepping out of the inn, a winter wonderland opened before her. The thin blanket of snow had settled over the streets and storefronts like frosting on gingerbread houses.
The park sat on her left, where the town thinned and just before the wind farm she’d walked through. Somewhere behind her was the lake. She made a mental note to check it out later.
Cold air whipped at her face as she kicked white powder up over her boots. Two-story brick buildings rose on either side, complete with old-fashioned, hand-painted signs. It was like stepping into the past.
Following Jimmy’s directions, she turned left on L Street. Soon, the sound of metal scraping metal and swearing floated out from a shop. Ella located the source of the noise inside. A man with too little hair on his scalp and too much on his chin wiped at his sweaty face as he stared at the engine of a classic Mercedes-Benz. His belly pulled at the stained fabric of his coveralls.
“Excuse me,” Ella said, “are you Lou?” The smell of alcohol and oil hovered heavy in the air.
“That’s me.” Lou squinted at her as if she was a bright light.
“I’m having car problems, and I was wondering if you could look at it.” His eyes squinted to the point that she wondered if he could still see.
He tipped his head, peering past her to the street. “Seems your problem is you don’t got one.” His face cracked open suddenly, and he barked out a laugh that split her ears.
Ella let out a polite chuckle.
“So, what’s the problem?” Lou’s belly continued to bounce, still laughing at his own joke.
“It’s in a snowbank.”
“Why’s it there?”
“I thought it’d make a great parking spot?” Ella took a breath and briefly explained it flying off the highway. “So, can you tow it?”
His laugh lines relaxed, and he rubbed a hand down his stubble, leaving behind streaks of grease. “Where’d you say you left it?”
“Just outside of town.”
An emotion flicked across his face so quickly she couldn’t be sure she’d seen it.
“How far out?” He turned his back, gathering up tools on his workbench.
“It was dark, but it’s just past the field with wind turbines.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go get it.”
“Now?” Ella asked.
“That okay?”
“Yes! That would be great.”
He laughed again, his stomach jumping up and down. “I like ya, doll.”
Her cheeks heated at being called “doll” for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. However, if he could retrieve her car and get her back on the road, then he could call her whatever he wanted.
CHAPTER 3
GETTING HER CAR out of the ditch proved harder in reality than expected. It didn’t help that Lou’s easy-going demeanor had shifted suddenly once they’d arrived at the crash site.
He hurried through hooking the vehicle up to his truck. Once the wind farm was in sight, he seemed to revert back to his old self.
Back at his shop, Ella hopped out of his truck. “So, does it look bad?”
Lou dug a chewed toothpick from his front chest pocket and rolled it from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Looks mostly cosmetic, but I won’t know till I look under her dress, so to speak.”
“Surely, you’ll buy her drinks first?” Ella teased. The mechanic’s eyes bugged out, and she quickly asked, “Any idea how long that’ll take?”
“I’ll have a look right now and get back to ya.”
She thanked him then said, “I’d give you my cell number, but it doesn’t get any reception here.”
He picked at his gums with the toothpick then inspected it. “No worries. I know where you’re staying.”
“You do?”
“Well, sure. Same place anyone passin’ through stays. You’re at the inn, aren’t ya?”
Ella nodded.
“‘Kay. I’ll just leave word there.”
She thanked him, getting a couple of steps before remembering she needed cash to pay for her room. “Hey, is there an ATM nearby?”
Lou’s thumb paused over the button for the hydraulic lift on the tow truck. “Eh?”
“Where can I pull some money?”
“I suppose the bank. But you gotta have an account there.”
“They don’t do shared branching?”
Lou cocked his head as he scratched the mashed toothpick over a hairy fold of skin on his neck. “Dunno. Don’t really use money ‘round here much.” He mashed the button for the lift, slowly lowering her jeep, and he shouted over the noise, “I should get workin’ on this if you’re to get outta here today.”
Ella’s eyebrows pinched together as she turned around, trekking along L Street. What sort of town didn’t use money “much”?
Ella paused once she hit Main Street. Keystone Inn was four short blocks to her right, nestled back from the street. Expansive, snow-laden shrubs and ivy obscured part of it from view.
Lou couldn’t possibly have her car ready in the next twenty minutes and her muscles were in desperate need of exercise—especially if she was going to burn off those slices of banana bread.
Her mind made up, she turned left with the intention of exploring more of the town. Her boots pressed prints into the fresh snow and made that special squishing noise that sounded like flatulence. Snow flatulence.
Ella smiled to herself and drank in the stillness of the world that only a fresh layer of powdered accumulation could bring. She loved that moment after the clouds had sprinkled flakes over the landscape like the earth inhaled its first breath and the exhale wouldn’t come until spring.
Soon, cottages and historic houses replaced
the storefronts and businesses. Ahead, Main Street continued straight, passing at the base of the left hill of what she was assuming were Twin Hills.
Another road, Lake Drive according to a faded sign, veered off and curved around the lake. Small boats bobbed in the dark water, moored to the docks.
Hunger drew her away from the charming vista, and she glanced at her watch. It was getting late in the afternoon, and her stomach had burned through her eggs, bacon, and banana bread like she’d run a 10k.
Now that she had a better idea of the size of the lake, she decided against trekking around it. Maybe she’d walk it after a late lunch at the diner—unless Lou had her car ready or she could come up with another excuse.
She walked at a brisk pace back to the inn, half out of hunger, half out of the need to thaw her limbs. As she reached the block, a long, lean man stepped out of the dining car next door. His chiseled features were set in a brooding expression that soured his good looks, but Ella’s attention was drawn to his choice in attire.
His clothes looked like the wild West and a motorcycle club had a drunken brawl, and he wore the leftovers. A faded gray Stetson hat sat on his dark hair above a sweatshirt, an aged leather vest, brown trousers, and boots with honest-to-goodness spurs. Either a rodeo was in town or he belonged to a theater troop.
He turned down the sidewalk which just happened to be in her direction. His eyes caught hers from beneath the brim of his hat.
Ella nodded by way of greeting before averting her gaze to the words “Belly Buster” advertised in the diner window. Whatever it was, she was having it.
The tall drink of trouble stepped into her path, barring her from fries and the promise of this mysterious Belly Buster.
“Well, hullo there, darlin’.” Smoke billowed into her face, and she coughed. She hated cigarette smoke.
“Excuse me.” Ella attempted to step around him, and his arm shot out.
“What you runnin’ for? I ain’t gonna hurt you.”
Ella clenched her teeth. “Not running. I’m hungry.” This man was standing between her and food and was about to get a tongue-lashing if he didn’t step aside.
A young woman in a pink gingham waitress uniform stood in the diner window watching them. Her eyes were on the shady man, her expression full of fear and anger. And something else Ella couldn’t discern.
He blew out another cloud of smoke. “You’re new.”
“You’re observant.”
His lips twitched. “You stranded too?”
Ella frowned. “I don’t know about too, but yeah, I crashed my car, and I’m stuck here until it gets fixed.”
He flicked his cigarette, narrowly missing her ear. “You’d be better off with a horse. They handle weather better than those metal death traps. ‘Course if they bring in pretty things like you… maybe they ain’t so bad.” His eyes glinted under the shadow of his hat. “My advice? Trade it in for a horse and get outta here. Keystone ain’t a place you wanna stay.”
“Really? It seems like a cute little town full of great people—with a few exceptions.” She narrowed her eyes at the last word, hoping he’d pick up on the hint. He didn’t.
“Well,” he drawled out the word like a sigh, “don’t let the sheriff see you. He’ll run you outta town faster than the Transcontinental Express.” She blinked at him. “No? Well, it’s a really fast train. Or at least it was—”
“Er, why? Why would he chase me out of town?”
“You’ll see.” He winked at her and finally stepped out of the way.
She mumbled a “thanks for the advice” as he tugged on a pair of leather gloves and strolled off, the air jingling with his spurs.
Ella watched his retreating back a moment before she ducked into the diner. A bell over the door tinkled, and the waitress who had been watching the exchange outside told Ella to pick a spot before she whisked into the kitchen.
Hovering over the doormat, Ella blew into her gloved hands while staking out a seat. Since she was eating so late, she had several options. Two other patrons sat separately in booths.
Wandering over the black and white checkered floor to the lunch counter, Ella chose a spinning stool and dropped onto it. She rubbed her palms together to get more sensation back into them and swung her legs back and forth. No matter how old she got, she could never resist the urge to spin back and forth in a chair.
The young waitress appeared on the other side of the counter sporting a friendly smile. She had a heart-shaped face with rouged cheeks and long lashes that brushed her penciled eyebrows. Her blonde hair swept back in an elaborate hairdo that would’ve taken Ella too many hours and a lot of cursing.
The waitress plucked a pencil from above her ear. “Welcome to Grandma’s Kitchen. I see you met Six.”
“I’m sorry? Six?”
She jerked her head at the window. “The cowboy. Short for Six Shooter—what he prefers everyone calls him. Of course, his real name is Jesse but don’t tell him I told you.”
The side of Ella’s mouth quirked up. “I won’t. He’s… different.”
“He’s a menace. Spends more time in the local jail than in the fresh air.” She pulled a pad from her apron, and the pencil hovered over it. “What can I get you?”
Ella’s eyes darted around. She hadn’t looked at a menu yet, but her stomach protested at waiting any longer for food. “How about that Belly Busting thing? The special?” She pointed at the chalkboard easel to her left.
“Good choice. That’s Grandma Wink’s secret recipe.” After taking her order, the young gal walked away.
Finally pulling off her gloves and jacket, Ella draped them onto the stool beside her and took in the quaint diner, from the display of freshly baked glazed donuts and strawberry pie to the homemade banana bread. Her mouth watered, recalling that morning’s breakfast. She wondered if Rose had bought the bread from the diner.
The waitress zoomed behind the counter again, grabbing a pot of coffee. With every other step, one of her black kitten heels made a distinct sound as it stuck to the linoleum floor. She held the pot of coffee up in Ella’s direction, her brow arched.
Ella nodded. As steam floated from her cup, she said, “Thank you… ?”
“Kayline. But everyone just calls me Kay.”
“Ella.”
“Nice to meet you. Sheriff know you’re here?”
Ella shifted on her cushy seat. That was the second time someone had mentioned the sheriff. “Um, no. Should he?”
Kay’s pink lips turned down. Her eyes shifted over Ella’s shoulder to the person sitting in the booth behind her. “Sorry, gotta run. Your burger and fries will be up soon.”
She glided over the floor, floating with the confident grace of a ballerina. Ella tried to focus on the knickknacks and fifties memorabilia covering the walls and not eavesdrop. However, Kay and the patron she approached were sitting right behind Ella, and the lack of competing conversation meant she could hear every word.
“How’s the coffee, Will?”
“Same as always. Muddy and perfect,” a deep voice replied.
Kay squealed, then paper rustled. “What’s that your working on? Is this your latest project?”
Ella curled a loose strand of hair behind her ear, stealing a glance behind her as she did so. Kay stood over one of the booths, talking to a man closer to Ella’s age, with brown hair, deep blue-green eyes, and strong features. He reminded Ella of an old -fashioned movie star: classically handsome.
A large paper sat unfolded in front of him, covering the speckled Formica table and a pile of fries. Complicated lines covered the schematic. His eyes swept up and met Ella’s before she quickly turned, face forward again. She caught his reflection in the stainless steel milkshake machine. He was still watching her, a curious expression on his face.
“How’s it work?” Kay asked the man.
“It’s an outdoor oven, using solar light instead of fire, gas, or electricity.”
“Oh, cool.”
“Did yo
u fix my—”
“Yeah, it’s right here. It’s why I came by. That and the coffee.” Ella heard a smile in Will’s voice.
She squinted at their reflections. Kay took something small and shiny from Will and stuffed it into her apron.
“And here I thought you wanted to see your ex-girlfriend,” Kayline teased.
Ella nearly choked on her coffee. Nothing about the light-hearted tone between the two said they were exes. She couldn’t imagine being on such friendly terms with any of her ex-boyfriends, yet not for lack of trying on her part. They all just happened to be jerks.
Above the milkshake machine was a passthrough with a view into the kitchen. A large hand appeared, setting down an even larger plate of burger and fries. A disembodied voice hollered, “Belly Buster!”
The waitress whisked over and grabbed the plate. As she placed the juicy burger on the lunch counter, Ella caught sight of a red rash covering the waitress’s forearms. Kay followed her gaze, and her cheeks reddened.
“Poison oak.”
Ella grimaced with sympathy. “I’ve had that a few times. Isn’t it contagious?”
Shrugging, Kay fiddled with the pencil behind her ear. “Not by touch. Only if the oils from the plant are still on my skin or clothes.”
After making sure Ella didn’t need anything else, she swept over to the cash register, her heels clicking out their arrhythmic beat.
Heat emanated from Ella’s plate. Without ceremony, she attacked the mound of thick, salted fries hiding her Belly Buster—which turned out to be some kind of a hybridization between a cheeseburger, nachos, and a sloppy joe with a third bun thrown in for good measure.
Slowly, she excavated the “burger” from the fries but was then presented with the problem of how to go about eating the gooey mess. Cheese sauce oozed over the sides, mixing with what the chalkboard called, “Grandma’s Secret Sauce.”
The sauces coalesced and dribbled down her hands. A fork would’ve been better, but she’d already sacrificed her hands, and her stomach would hear none of this waiting for a utensil business. The flavors of the heart-attack-in-a-bun collided in her mouth, and despite appearances, she deemed it one of the best burgers she’d ever had.
