Page 57 of Stowaway Whirlwind
Chapter 21
Goldie
Davis slows the truck and pulls into a gravel and dirt parking lot in front of a gray double-wide trailer. A small banner above the door reads GRANNY’S in red lettering with a blinking neon OPEN sign attached to the side.
“This is the diner?” I ask hesitantly. It’s unlike any diner I’ve seen before, either on the road or on TV, at least from the outside.
“Yeah,” Davis chuckles. “Might not look like much, but I’m telling you, best pancakes you’ll ever eat.” Davis hops out first, helping me out of the truck and then shouldering Lily’s diaper bag while I unbuckle her from the car seat. He leads me to the entrance and guides me inside the warm, maple syrup-scented trailer with red and white checkered flooring.
At the long silver countertop immediately opposite the entrance, four older gentlemen turn around as one on their bar stools, each with a ceramic mug of coffee in their hands, giving us the once over. The youngest of the four with dark brown skin and silver curls laughs and slaps the top of his well-worn jean-clad thigh. “Knew it!” He gestures to the man beside him, who has sun-aged tan skin and is wearing a tweed flat cap, and says, “Pay up, Pete.”
“Damnit, Freddy. I knew I shouldn’t have taken that bet.” Pete gives Davis and me a toothy grin, though, beneath a bushy gray mustache as he pulls a fat leather wallet from his back pocket and slaps a ten-dollar bill on Freddy’s open palm. Then he snaps his fingers and says, “Say, Davis. You still working over at Berenson?”
Davis drapes his arm over my shoulder. “Yes, sir.”
“Damn,” Pete mutters, slapping another ten-dollar bill on top of the other. But then he snaps his fingers again and cocks his head to the side. “You still long-hauling?”
Davis coughs. “No, sir.”
“Well, hot diggity! Pay up.” Pete turns his palm up, and Freddy gives Pete his twenty dollars back with a huff.
I can’t help but laugh at the exchange, the atmosphere as warm as the temperature. I might not like the idea of having to find childcare for Lily and going back to waiting tables, but I have a good feeling about this place so that counts for something.
“Goldie! Over here!” Looking to the left, I spot Dolly half-standing from her seat at a booth in the back corner, waving her arm above her head. The two women sitting opposite her turn their heads toward us, and yup, I’m right back to feeling like the new kid at school, twice over.
Davis drops his arm to push gently against my lower back as we walk past packed, red upholstered booths lining the wall facing the parking lot and a handful of four top tables with chairs on the right. Davis nods his head at Russell, who is seated by himself at one of the tables. Though I’ve only met him once, when I first got into town, it would be hard to forget the man with his tall, muscular build that belies the peppery gray hair and beard.
Dolly maneuvers out of her booth to pull me in for a hug when we arrive at the table. She gives Davis a friendly wave and says, “Hi, Davis. Bye, Davis.”
The brunette with thick purple streaks in her hair and a tiny purple nose ring snorts, waving as well.
Davis kisses my temple and takes Lily from my arms. “We’ll be at the counter,” he says. “Holler if you need me, baby.”
When he leaves, Dolly motions for me to sit next to her. “Girls, I’d like y’all to meet our newest member, Goldie,” she says like they’re in some kind of club.
The brunette leans forward to shake my hand. “Hi, I’m Violet—Wyatt’s ex’s little sister, Dolly’s former wedding planner and now yours, and most importantly, Dolly’s best friend in the whole wide world.” She gives a teasing smile to the older woman seated next to her, with mid-length blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail and wearing a pink uniform dress with a white apron.
The blonde tsks at Violet. “You wish. I saw Dolly first. Therefore,I’mher bestest bestie.” Then she leans forward to shake my hand. “I’m Faye. Welcome to Granny’s.”
Violet rubs her hand over what looks to be a small baby bump. “Wrong. You used to be in love with Wyatt, which is an automatic disqualifier.”
Faye’s cheeks flame as red as a tomato. “I was not. It was just a leftover crush from high school.”
I look at Dolly from the corner of my right eye, and she narrows hers at Faye even as a smile tugs at her lips.
A waitress in her mid-twenties with curly brown hair pulled back in a claw clip wearing the same pink and white uniform as Faye—though it looks to be on the small size as the buttons strain across her chest—shuffles up to the table with a pot of coffee and empty mug in hand. She gives me a tired smile. “Coffee?” When I nod, she fills and pushes the mug toward me.
Faye frowns when Layla yawns, and she slides off the bench seat to grab an empty chair from a nearby table, situating it at the head of our booth. “Sit down, Layla. You’re falling asleep on your feet.”
Layla looks like she’s considering it, purple circles beneath her pretty brown eyes that are darker than Violet’s, but just then, a group of men in mud-streaked jeans and work boots enter the diner. She shakes her head, covering her next yawn with the back of her hand. “Maybe later.”
Faye lays a hand on her upper arm. “Why don’t you let me take care of them? You sit. Have some coffee yourself.”
Layla steps back in her white sneakers. “Not when you just got off your shift, and I need the tips.”
The girls and I silently follow Layla with our eyes, watching as she grabs a handful of plastic menus from behind the counter and directs the men to an empty table next to Russell.
“She’s working too many jobs. I’m worried about her,” Dolly says.
