Page 22 of Charlie Takes a Chance

I pull off the highway and drive past the store to park next to the diner.

We’re a little early for the lunch rush—and bylunch rush, I mean the six regulars who stop by to eat.

Charlie climbs out of the truck, catching the handle when she almost loses her footing on the slick snow. “Gosh darn these boots. They have horrible tread.”

“See? You’re a fall risk.” I grin down at her before I climb out of my side.

She stomps around the front of the truck and waits for me to step up on the sidewalk. “Fall risk? Would you be considered a fall risk if I push you?”

I glower at her, trying my best to keep a straight face. “How would you like to get some parking lot snow rubbed in your face?”

Charlie glances at the gray and black streaked snow and grimaces. “No thanks. I’d rather have lunch.”

I grab the wooden door to the diner, dodging the giant wreath covered in Christmas ornaments and give it a pull. It always sticks on the cold days.

“Ladies first,” I mutter.

“I’d curtsy, but my chauffeur just told me I’m a fall risk,” she whispers loudly to me when she walks in.

I notice that she takes a second to stomp her boots on the front rug, kicking off remnants of snow so she doesn’t track it into the small restaurant. There’s a handful of people sitting around sipping coffee or eating lunch.

I grab two menus off the shelf and pass one to Charlie before leading the way to my favorite table.

We sit down and peruse the menus without saying a word. I have the menu memorized, but maybe if I hide behind it, no one I know will come say hi.

A chair scrapes across the room, and a body lumbers toward us.

“Hey, Max!” Rod from the Gun & Rod club greets me with a slap on the back. “That your new pickup out there?”

“Sure is,” I reply as I hold out a hand to shake his.

“Is it running good?”

“So far so good. Can’t complain.”

Rod slaps my back once more. “Good, good. You gotta get on down to the place and shoot some clays with me.”

“I’ll be there,” I say as I watch Charlie take in the experience that is the Pine Star Cafe.

Rod moves back to his booth, where his wife is waiting for him.

“Who was that?” she asks in a whisper.

“Rod.”

Before she can ask another question, Sharon comes out from the kitchen with a notepad to take our order. “Max!” She pats my shoulder in a motherly fashion and glances out the window. “Oh, is that your truck out there?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I hand her the menu as she reaches for it.

“That’s a nice one.”

“It sure is.”

“How’s it running?” she asks as she picks up Charlie’s menu.

“Runs great.”

I glance at Charlie, who’s hiding her smile behind her hand.

---