Page 11 of Dodge

A text buzzed his phone, and the moment shattered.

Dad: Need you to come by the house tomorrow.

Dodge sighed again as his concentration was broken. He texted back.

Dodge: I’m working until 6:00 tomorrow. What’s your time frame?

Dad: I guess it can wait until 6:30.

No explanation of whatever his dad wanted, but Dodge was positive it had to be something physical. He stood, and several vertebrae realigned themselves as he stretched. Another text came in, this one from Mallory.

Mallory: You comin home?

Home. Was it really his anymore?

Dodge: Already at the Lair. I’ll crash here tonight.

He turned off the phone to get some peace from the texts and walked down the hallway to his room. The bed creaked as he settled on it and tucked the two big pillows between his back and the headboard. He placed the book of drawings on his bent knees and critiqued the work.

The sketch of Fauna superimposed over the spider bugged him. The image didn’t fit. He tore off the paper, balled it up, and sent it sailing to the box in the corner that served as a trash can. He’d have to think about what worked better the next time he drew Fauna.

He smiled and thought about a cooking theme.

CHAPTER6

Both Anitaand Connie were thrilled when I announced I was going to buy the diner. I called the real estate agent to make sure we would meet before I left Asheville.

The drive was beautiful. Summer in western North Carolina was an artist’s dream. Vivid blue skies soared overhead, and deep green forests covered towering mountains dusted with wisps of white clouds that made them look like smoke was rising from the ridges. A sense of peace came over me, almost like I was coming home at the end of a long journey.

I pulled off the highway and drove into the small town of Bryson City. Tourism was probably the biggest industry here. The Great Smoky Mountain Railroad depot was right there, with several shops and eateries. Rafting centers were scattered around the town, offering trips down the sedate Tuckasegee River or the wilder Nantahala and Ocoee Rivers. Hiking trails, horseback riding, camping—any outdoor activity you could wish for was close by. Not too far away was the town of Cherokee, which sported the outdoor dramaUnto These Hills, historic museums, stores of Native Americans artisans, and Harrah’s Casino. Any restaurant should do a bang-up business this time of year.

I peered through the dirty windows of the diner I was going to buy. The first sight had me ready to get back in my car and drive away. Fast.

The building had been a bank at one time in the early 1900s and was converted to a diner in the ’60s. I think that’s the last time it had any updates. Silver duct tape held together the cracked red vinyl of the booths lining the dingy gray walls. Chips and scratches covered the lopsided Formica and metal tables. One dining room chair was missing its seat entirely. A row of mushroom-shaped stools were bolted to the floor in front of a long serving counter. Dust covered everything.

“Hi, you must be Fauna. I’m Cathy Hartfield, Miz Mae’s realtor. Or rather the family realtor,” said the pretty blonde woman in a rose-colored business suit who appeared next to me. Her pained expression when she glanced through the window told me she knew the condition of the diner. “I know it looks rough, but a good coat of paint and some new furnishings will do wonders.”

She opened the lockbox, and we went inside. An old musty smell blessed my nostrils as I walked into the interior. The walls might have been white at one time, but half the plaster had cracked and crumbled off, revealing the same red brick as the front of the building. Scattered mouse turds decorated the dusty serving counter, and a few outdated machines sat on the back work area. An old commercial popcorn popper with a broken glass front, a milkshake mixer that showed rust stains, a coffee maker with three dirty round pots, a hot dog roller oven full of hardened fat splotches—everywhere I looked I saw neglect.

“It’s pretty shocking, I know, but don’t judge until you see the kitchen.” Cathy’s voice had a ring of desperation. I swear I heard her thoughts of“Please buy this shithole and get it off my plate before I go totally insane with this listing.”

The kitchen was a surprise compared to the condition of the dining room. Someone had taken care to prepare this place for a permanent close. The grill and gas stovetop were covered in dust and more mouse leavings, but the overhead vents were clean of petrified grease. No rancid oil congealed in the deep fat fryers, and the oven interior was clear. The equipment was from a top-notch company and appeared to be new. I assumed the owner modernized before the place closed.

This was something I could handle. A glimmer of hope at last.

Still, getting this restaurant idea off the ground would be a tremendous job and a huge risk.

Cathy kept chattering on about the place. “Miz Mae owned and ran this diner until about five years ago, when she turned eighty-one and had to go into the nursing home. She had a bad fall and broke her hip, you see, and she never healed right or else she’d be here right now, scrambling eggs and making toast. She passed last year, and neither of her sons wants to keep the place. They don’t live ’round here anyway.”

I opened the walk-in refrigerator. Both that and the freezer had been turned off for years. They had that sour shut-in odor to them, but the walls and shelves were mold free. “Do these still work?”

Cathy checked her notes. “They should. Most of the kitchen stuff was purchased and installed just prior to Miz Mae’s accident. She did a breakfast and deli lunch only. Lord, I can still taste the blueberry pancakes she made.”

If I bought the place, breakfast wouldn’t be served. Most hotels had their own version of a complimentary breakfast included in the room price, and I wasn’t about to compete with that.

For fuck’s sake, I’m already developing a plan.

“The floor above us has an efficiency apartment that comes with the property. Miz Mae used to let it out for summer help or vacation people. Furniture is gone, though.”

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