Page 14 of Candy Canes & Caroling

“If by my office, you mean The Nightingale Diner, then yes, my office.”

She grinned and rubbed her hands together. “I like the way you think, Irving. Are you walking or driving?’ I raised a brow, and she paused for a moment. “I’m sorry. I did it again.” She hung her head and shook it. When she lifted her head, I saw real shame in her eyes.

“You did, but I think it’s funny. Remember, I’ve been in a chair all my life. I’ve used the same jokes myself dozens of times. If it helps, you can pretend that the wheels have little feet on them. Ten on each side, all wearing tiny Converse tennies.”

Her laughter finally rang free. “Great, now I have an image of a squashed centipede stuck to your tire.”

“What can I say? I’m here for you,” I teased as she gathered her things from the table. “I just thought it would be nice to get some fresh air. Besides, it won’t be long and I’ll have to drive, so I might as well take advantage of the nice weather.”

“I suppose winter for you is a wet, arduous adventure here?” she asked while she jogged to a closet and pulled out her purse. Then she shut down the lights. “I’ve lived in Florida my entire life, so this will be my first winter.”

“Wet and arduous is an understatement,” I agreed while we put on our coats. Star stood and waited for a command while I struggled with my coat. “If the sidewalks are plowed, the access ramps to cross the street aren’t, or they’re filled with giant chunks of ice from the plows.” I finally got the coat to cooperate and got it up over my shoulders. “Star, coat.”

Star used the back of my chair as a brace for his paws, then used his nose to secure the Velcro on the back of the coat. I tucked it around my legs and behind the wheel guards to keep it clean.

“That’s a cool coat,” Hazel said as I rolled toward the doors. “I’ve never seen one with the back cut out.”

“It’s the most common coat design in adaptive clothing. Imagine sitting in a big bulky coat in a chair like this.”

“It would get uncomfortable quickly. That chair fits you like a glove as it is. I can’t imagine having all that fluff around you,” she agreed, as I rolled into the hallway. “The Velcro is a cool feature.”

“It’s for people with limited mobility of their arms, which I don’t have, but it’s still handy. I have Star close the Velcro to add to his skills if something happens to my hands.”

She held up her left hand where the last two fingers had a kink in them. “It could happen at any time, I suppose, and he is a service dog, after all,” she said, walking beside me on the left while Star walked on my right. “I could see where it would be important to think ahead.”

“I’m always thinking ahead in every aspect of my life. In Bells Pass, besides the grocery store, there aren’t any shops I can get in and out of without hurting myself. I learned a long time ago it’s not worth damaging my hands or my chair in an attempt to do so. If I can’t order something to be delivered, I drive to Saginaw to shop.”

“I’m sure anyone here would be happy to help you, Irving. I’d happily pick up anything you need.”

“I know,” he agreed. “I appreciate that, but I don’t want you or Ivy picking out my underwear.”

She held up her hands by her chest and waved them. “Hey, you’re on your own with that one!”

My laughter filled the air as we rolled toward The Nightingale Diner. “Now you see my point!”

“I do,” she agreed with a head nod. “The time I’ve spent with you since September has shown me that this town has a long way to go if they truly want it to be inclusive.”

“All the more reason that we dig in and do our part,” I answered, nodding at her bag. “That starts tonight.”

“Operation Gazebo begins now,” she said while laughing.

“More like it begins once I have a plate of sweet potato nachos in front of me.”

“Oh, are they on the menu again?” she asked excitedly.

“Is it Thursday?” She nodded, and I tipped my head with a smile. “Then they’re on the menu. Hopefully, it’s not too busy. That way, we can get the booth in the back.”

She glanced at her watch. “It’s already one, so we’re probably fine. I don’t know how much work we’ll get done there, though.”

“Let’s face it. We aren’t going there to work. We’re going there for nachos,” I said, laughing while she nodded eagerly. “Besides, there’s a better place to work on this, so we’ll head there when we’re done eating.”

“Care to share?” she asked with a brow raised in the air.

“Nope, but you’ll love it,” I promised with a wink.

∞∞∞

The walk to the diner was always short but refreshing. Growing up in Florida, I had never seen a diner quite like The Nightingale. In the shape of an old train car, it was the gathering place for all Bells Passers. At any given time of the day, you could walk into the diner and recognize at least one person enjoying a meal out. Some might say that was too small-town living, but I’m not one of those people. I grew up where you never saw the same face twice, and everyone was only out for themselves. Being part of a community where people liked each other was refreshing.

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