by Sarra Cannon
My stomach growls at the thought, but I frown at the clothes in my hand. “We can’t go back to the same diner wearing the same clothes we wore yesterday,” I say. “Plus, I desperately need a shower.”
Mason shakes his head and laughs. “If this trip is about pushing boundaries, then I dare you to forget, just once, what other people might think of you,” he says. “We can grab breakfast, then come back and shower, I promise. But just this once, screw what anyone else thinks about what you’re wearing or what you look like and just go with the moment.”
“I’m all for pushing boundaries,” I say, “but this is not just about what other people think. This is about feeling clean and not totally disgusting when I’m eating breakfast.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll get your bag so you can change clothes, but the shower has to wait.”
“Deal.”
He unzips the tent and steps outside. I lay back against the ground and pull the sleeping bag up to my chin. It smells like him and I breathe in, a satisfied grin playing at the corners of my mouth.
Chapter Forty
Mason and I decide to stay for a while.
We fall into a rhythm in this little beach community. A lot of the campers are there for just a night or two, but a few of them, like us, are there for a week or two. The lady in the Taj Mahal tent with her red cups and vodka is named Linda. She and her husband, Dodger, are from Indiana, but they like to spend a few months every summer here on the gulf. We’ve spent several nights over by their tent playing cards. Linda keeps trying to get me to drink some of her vodka, but I keep playing it off, saying I don’t drink anymore. Mason doesn’t question it.
The girl Mason was talking to that first day, left at the end of the weekend, and I was honestly glad to see her go. There was something about the way she looked at Mason that made me want to drop-kick her.
Most of the people we’ve met have been super nice, though, and I realize Mason was right. People do treat us differently than they would have if they knew we came from money. It’s a strange thing, really. I’m the same person either way, but the way they see me is different. To them, I’m just a normal girl hanging out with her boyfriend on a camping trip. There’s nothing to prove. I can just be myself.
Back home, I was always special. People were afraid to insult me or get on my bad side, but these people just say what they want to say and they aren’t worried about what I’ll think of them. They just act like themselves.
It’s hard to pinpoint the exact difference, but I feel like I’m one of them rather than always apart. I also feel like I don’t have to constantly work so hard to impress everyone. I can just sit back and not be the center of attention and it’s okay. It feels good, really.
We spend a lot of time on the beach and every time I put on my bikini, I stare at my belly, expecting to see some kind of change. It’s still flat, but for how much longer? My breasts have definitely gotten more tender over the past few days.
I’ve noticed a few other changes, too. Like little cramps and tugs in my belly. And I get tired a lot easier. Some days after spending an hour at the beach, all I want to do is curl up in the tent and sleep for the rest of the day.
Nighttime is my favorite. Mason and I snuggle up next to the fire talking for hours. Some nights we have sex and some nights we just hold each other, but I feel closer to him with each passing day.
Every morning we get up and head to Dottie’s for breakfast. Mason gets coffee every day, but I lie and say I’m trying to cut back. I don’t think it’s good for the baby and I don’t want to take any extra risks.
We’ve gotten to know the regulars there pretty well, but mostly, I’ve fallen in love with Delores.
Or rather, Delores’ cooking.
She’s an artist. I’ve eaten food cooked by some of the world’s premiere chefs and have never had anything taste so amazing as what she cooks right here in her greasy little kitchen.
Her husband, Buddy, is often the one cooking, but I’ve learned that almost all of the recipes belong to Delores. She’s been cooking since she was ten years old, because her mother had a degenerative bone disease and was in a wheel chair through most of Delores’ childhood. That left Delores, as the oldest of five children, to take on chores like cooking and cleaning and when she was old enough, driving.
She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. She has a lot of attitude and pretends to be tough, but on the inside, she’s a jelly donut. So stinking sweet.
More than once, I’ve seen her handing out food to children out back. This, above all things, makes me love her. When I ask her about it, she always tells me to mind my own business, but I know what she’s doing. None of those children ever pay for the food and sometimes she loads them up with bags and bags from the kitchen. The grateful look in the eyes of those kids tells the real story there.
This morning, while Mason and I are finishing up our food, I overhear a piece of a conversation between Buddy and Delores about the diner’s finances. They aren’t arguing, exactly, but I can tell they’re stressed about something.
Delores is sitting at the counter with a stack of receipts. Buddy is on the kitchen side, leaning over the counter. Sometimes Delores says something that makes Buddy lower his face into his hands.
“What’s up with you this morning?” Mason asks. “You’re so quiet.”
I lean closer to him. “I’ve been trying to listen in on their conversation.”
I nod my head toward the counter, trying not to be too obvious. Mason turns and looks, and I cringe.
I grab his hand. “Don’t look,” I say. “I don’t want her to know I’m listening.”
“I can hear you, girlie,” Delores says, not even bothering to turn around. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you eying me all morning like a nosy-pants.”
I twist my body to the side. “You’ve been turned around the whole time,” I say. “There’s no way you’ve seen me looking.”
She taps the shiny napkin dispenser with her pencil.
“Oh,” I say.
“Oh,” she repeats, mocking me.
I grab my juice and stand up. I walk over and sit a couple of seats down from her. “Since I’ve obviously been eavesdropping anyway, you want to tell me what’s got you guys whispering so much over here?”
She frowns at me. “How many times do I have to tell you that you need to stay out of my damn business?”
“Maybe I can help,” I say.
She rolls her eyes and throws her hands up. “Well, Buddy, we didn’t realize we’ve had a financial consultant eating breakfast in our diner every day for the past week and a half.”
Buddy eyes me. “I don’t know, Delores. She looks like she might be the college type. She might be camping out at our beach, but she’s wearing three hundred dollar boots. Maybe she could help. God knows we need somebody’s help.”
Worry gnaws at my stomach. “What’s wrong? Is the diner in some kind of trouble?”
Delores clenches her jaw and the muscles in her face tense.
Mason comes to stand beside me. He puts his hand on my arm. “Don’t be rude, Pen. If they wanted to share their private business with you, they’d have asked for your opinion. Come on, let’s get out to the beach. It’s supposed to rain this afternoon and I want to enjoy the sun while it’s out.”
I’m not giving up that easy. Maybe it’s really none of my business, but I probably could help them. My dad taught me a lot about money management growing up. Besides, she’s doing something good for those kids and now I have a soft spot for this run-down place.
“I know a thing or two about running a business,” I say. It’s just about the most personal thing I’ve told them about who I am. “I’d be happy to take a look if you want.”
Delores looks at me, then at Buddy. He nods at her and she throws her hands up in the air.
“You might as well,” she says. “But the numbers are going to add up the same whether it’s me doing them or some fancy college gir
l.”
She stands and pushes the stack of receipts toward me.
I look to Mason, eyebrows raised.
“Go ahead,” he says. “I don’t know that you should get involved, but if you want to try, go for it. I’m going to go swimming for a while. Maybe stop by the dock and see if anyone’s catching anything today.”
“Okay,” I say. I grab his hand and give it a squeeze. “Say hi to Malcom for me, will ya?”
Malcom is one of the old guys we’ve made friends with while we’ve been here. He’s out there fishing every day, rain or shine.
“Will do,” he says. I can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s not happy with this, but he’s just going to have to deal with it.
This place has become a home away from home for us. I would hate to see it close down.
When Mason leaves, it’s just me, Buddy and Delores left in the place.
“So tell me, how long do you think you’ve got?” I ask.
She eyes me. “What are you talking about?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I heard you tell Buddy that you thought you didn’t have much time left before the bank came calling. I want to know how long you’ve got.”
She looks to Buddy and again, he nods.
“If we’re going to let her take a look, we might as well tell her the whole deal.”
“Fine,” Delores says. She pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her apron and lights up.
There’s no smoking allowed in restaurants in this state, but I’m not about to say anything. Besides, it’s her place. I just don’t know how bad second-hand smoke would be for the baby. I stare at the cigarette and she raises an eyebrow, then puts it out without saying a word.
“According to this letter we got this morning, we’ve got sixty days until they start proceedings to shut us down,” she says. Her hand trembles slightly as she pours herself a fresh cup of coffee.
I don’t show it on my face, but only having sixty days means it’s gotten pretty bad. A lot of times, the bank will work with a small business like this for a long time as long as they can pay a little bit. Especially when it’s one of the only businesses of its kind in such a small community.
“Well, let me take a look and see what I can find.”
I get to work for the rest of the morning and Delores brings me any paperwork I ask for along the way. By noon, I’ve determined that Dottie’s has been losing money consistently for about three years now. Just a slow trickle, but over time, they’ve managed to dig themselves into a pretty deep hole.
I think about all those kids who bring home food to their families because of Delores’ kindness.
“How long have you been giving food to the kids?” I ask when Dottie comes to sit back down beside me.
She hesitates. This is obviously something she’s been doing under the table, and I can see she doesn’t want to talk about it.
“How long?” I ask again.
She closes her eyes and takes in a breath. “Three years,” she says. “Give or take. I used to sneak some food to some of the poorer families in town when Dottie was still alive, but if she’d ever found out, she would have fired me in a heartbeat. But when Buddy and I took over, it started small and just grew.”
I nod. Her voice is wobbly, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her close to tears.
“I know I shouldn’t give away our profits like that, but if you saw the way some of these kids live,” she says. “It would just break your heart, I’m telling you.”
“Okay, but you’ve at least got to start charging for everything people order. Like drinks and sides and stuff.” I look at my notes again. “I’ve looked at all the numbers, and I’m telling it to you straight. Unless you have some miracle surge of tourist to this area, you’re going to fold.”
Buddy rubs his forehead and Delores grips the counter.
“This place is all we’ve got,” she says. “We took out a second mortgage on our house just for the down payment on this place. I’m scared if we lose Dottie’s, we’re gonna lose our house, too. I don’t know what we’re going to do. We’ve been struggling for so long, just to stay afloat, but this summer just wasn’t what it needed to be. Too much rain this season and too many business along the strip closing down. Everyone’s been moving on to the bigger coastal towns. Now that we’re getting toward the end of the season, I’m scared as hell. We don’t get any visitors around here during the winter months and there’s really only a couple of weeks left of the summer rush, and that’s if we’re lucky.”
“If you stopped giving food away for a few months—”
“No,” she says. She puts her hand on my arm, and I think it’s the first time she’s ever actually touched me.
I look up and meet her eyes. She wants me to see how serious she is about this issue.
“Without this diner, those kids would near starve in the summers,” Buddy says. “When school’s in, the kids get breakfast and lunch, but during the summer, they’re lucky if they eat once a day. What Delores does for those kids is…”
His voice trails off.
“Yes, but if lose the diner completely, you’ll never be able to help them,” I say.
My heart is breaking for them. This is the kind of thing I have been telling my mom about forever. She’s so set on sending money to help starving children overseas when there are kids in our own communities who go without eating for days.
The fact that Delores helps so much when she has so little makes me feel guilty for not doing more with my own money.
I really want to help them, but their finances are a serious mess. Since their income varies wildly depending on the season, they really should have been doing more to cut expenses during the colder months. I look over my notes several more times, looking for anything that might be able to help them.
Finally, I see something tucked under one of the bank notices that catches my eye.
“Wait,” I say, pulling the paper out to examine it more closely. “What is this license here? It’s some kind of beach permit? Does that cover the entire beach area?”
Delores takes it from my hand. “Oh, that’s just a license to operate a food cart. We had to get for this year’s Spring Break festival down in Gulf Shores. We thought it would be a good business idea to go over there, because they had all these vendors participating and my friend Sara Jane said she could get us a booth at the fair.”
“Did you make good money?”
Buddy shakes his head. “Not too bad, but it wasn’t what we’d hoped for. We ended up spending a lot carting everything down there and then there ended up being this big storm that week and a lot of the spring break crowd didn’t show up. It was a real mess.”
“But you guys have a cart?”
Delores nods. “Yeah, we got it stored in the garage at our place,” she says. “It belonged to Dottie. She used to sell food to tourists out on the boardwalk during the busy seasons. Why? What you got cookin’ in the brain of yours?”
“I might have an idea, but I don’t want to get your hopes up before we’ve had a chance to really make sure it’ll work. I’ll come back this afternoon if I can.”
I try to keep the excitement in my voice down, but I can’t help it. Delores looks at me with such hope in her eyes.
I throw my arms around her. I can’t believe I’ve gotten so attached to her in such a short period of time. I don’t usually let my walls down around people this fast, but she’s a genuinely beautiful person. Her entire body stiffens, but then she relaxes and laughs. When I pull away, there are tears in her eyes.
“Get on out of here and enjoy what’s left of the sunshine,” she says. “Don’t you go worrying about us anymore, okay?”
I roll my eyes and give her a look. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I say. “All we have to do is raise enough money to pay the bank for a couple of months to get you back in their good graces. Then maybe they’ll hold out until the next tourist season before they act on any of this.”
She nods at
me, but then turns away and lights another cigarette.
I smile at Buddy and he winks as I turn and head out to the beach to find Mason.
Chapter Forty-One
I step onto the beach and feel the first drops of rain on my face. I stop for a moment and lift my face to the sky. I love the rain.
I’ve always been such a water baby and this past week of living outside and being able to hear the water every day has been great. In Fairhope, the beach is always so crowded. Here, it’s a completely different experience. Some days, it’s like we have the whole ocean to ourselves.
I wonder how the rain will affect our tent. I’m guessing the thing is waterproof. Surely it is, right? People camp out in the rain, don’t they? I hope. I need to go find Mason and make sure we don’t need to get back to our camp, but for now, it’s heaven to be standing on the beach with the wind blowing over my skin and the sound of the waves in my ears.
It’s only been ten days since Mason and I left Fairhope, but I feel like it’s been months already. I had expected us to be traveling more, but we lucked out when we found this place. We’re the best we’ve ever been in this little nowhere town.
I know it can’t last forever, and we’ve already been talking about wanting to move on and see more of the country, but I want to do this one last thing before we leave. I want to help Delores and Buddy keep their diner if I can.
I know that all it would take is one call home and I could have all the money I wanted at my fingertips. I’m sure by now my parents are freaked out enough about not hearing from me that they’d do anything I asked. But I like being anonymous here. I like being my own person and not depending on them for anything. Camping hasn’t been easy and I did eventually make Mason drive to a camping store to buy an inflatable bed, but overall, I’ve been enjoying it.
I’d enjoy anything as long as I could wake up every morning in Mason’s arms.
The rain begins to fall harder, and I decide to look for him before it gets too bad out here. I look both ways down the beach and don’t see him anywhere. He mentioned the pier, so I start walking in that direction. Just up ahead, I catch sight of a red shirt in the sand. That’s the same color Mason was wearing this morning, so he must have been swimming and then made a run for it when the rain hit.
