Page 11 of Forever To Me

“Good. Now let’s go have some lunch. You can put her in the kennel in the front office while we’re gone and Gene catches up the laundry. He’s watching the front desk for me.”

“I still don’t have my car,” I suddenly realize and look at Maggie. “Can you take me to pick it up after we eat?”

“Your car’s out in front of the office, and here’s your key.” She reaches into her pocket, tossing it to me.

“But how did it get here?” I ask nervously, not wanting toadmit to her that I slept with the bartender last night. He made it clear he didn’t want her to know. While I don’t like keeping things from her, this secret feels like it’s a good one to keep.

She shrugs. “Cash dropped it off and left the keys. Said you’d left it there last night.”

Cash.

He must have dropped it off for me. It doesn’t surprise me. He was a perfect gentleman after all. Up until he left without saying goodbye. I guess he didn’t want me to come back to the bar to get it and make things awkward. That’s that, I guess. No fling with the mystery man. After all, we did agree on one night.

Maggie and I head over to the Harvest & Honey deli. We walk in, and I notice everyone waves and smiles at Maggie. The townsfolk smile politely at me and nod as I slide into the well-worn booth. Maggie chats it up with a few people and doesn’t bother to look at the blue and white checkered menu I study intently to avoid the curious stares.

The deli is tucked into the heart of Bridger Falls, a cozy little spot with a dark blue awning and a hand-painted wooden sign that reads Harvest & Honey in faded gold lettering. The scent of fresh-baked bread and smoked meats wraps around us the moment we step inside, the warmth of the space a stark contrast to the cool mountain air outside.

The walls are painted a deep sage green, full of rustic wooden shelves lined with jars of homemade jam and honey and locally cured meats. Framed black-and-white photos of Bridger Falls’ earliest days hang between vintage tin signs advertising old soda brands and farm-fresh eggs. The hardwood floors are worn but well-kept, adding to the deli’s lived-in charm.

A row of square wooden tables, each topped with checkered cloths in warm shades of navy and cream, fill the main seating area. Mason jars hold fresh wildflowers at the center of each table, and small, mismatched chairs add to the quaint, homey feel. The counter, a long stretch of dark oak, showcases an array of deli meats, cheeses, and house-made pickles under a spotless glass case. Behind it, a chalkboard menu lists the day’s specials in loopy handwriting, complete with little doodles of sandwiches and steaming soup bowls.

Soft country music plays from an old radio behind the counter, the hum of a familiar tune blending with the quiet chatter of the few late-afternoon customers. Overhead, Edison bulbs hang from thick ropes, casting a warm glow over the space and making it feel like the kind of place where people linger long after their meal is done, just talking and sipping sweet tea.

I can already tell that it’s not just a deli. It’s a gathering place, an important piece of Bridger Falls’ heartbeat, where stories are swapped over pastrami on rye and old friends catch up over steaming mugs of locally roasted coffee.

And in that moment, in the warm glow of Harvest & Honey, I can’t help but feel a bit at home.

Maggie doesn’t cook, and before I got here, she told me she went out to eat practically daily or went over to other people’s houses to eat. I’ve been cooking every night for us, and it’s been so much fun. She has a cozy little kitchen in the back of the Dogwood and a surprisingly stocked pantry for someone who doesn’t eat at home. She splits her time between the Dogwood and friends’ houses. I can't wait to make more of my favorite meals for her.

I decide on the grilled chicken BLT and a bowl of roasted tomato soup. As I wait for Maggie, the unofficial town mayor, to make her rounds saying hello and greeting everyone, I gaze overthe glass deli case that holds various baked goods that are mouthwatering and delicious looking.

I decide that I’m going to get a piece of chocolate cake, too.

“Alright, sugar, what are you gettin’?” she asks as she slides into the booth across from me as our server arrives at our table.

I give her my order, and she nods. “Good choices. Make that two of everything,” she tells the server.

“Tell me about your song. What’s your inspiration for this new creative flow?” She grins mischievously like she’s fishing for some information.

I play it off and shrug, “I went to the Black Dog last night and listened to some music and drank some whiskey. It was a good night.”

“Hmm,” she says as she watches me, missing nothing.

“Hmmm, what?” I laugh.

“Maybe it’s time you meet a few more of the young locals and make some friends since you’ll be staying awhile.”

“You don’t like my company?” I tease. “Who will play cards with you if I’m off gallivanting? And who says I’m staying awhile?”

“Oh, sugar, I love your company,” she says as the server slides our food front of us. We thank our server and dig in, eating in silence for a few moments, and Maggie says to me, “I’m glad you’re here, Violet. You can stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks, Maggie. I’m glad I’m here too. Thanks for letting me stay,” I say as I take a small spoonful of the hot soup. Bridger Falls is growing on me. I visited as a kid but haven’t been back for a long time. Usually, Maggie came to visit us.

“You’re helping me more,” she says with a smile. “I’m getting the better end of this deal.”

“So, what do you know about the bartender at the Black Dog?” I ask casually.

“What do you want to know?” she asks, but something in her tone is guarded.

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