Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 130286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
food. She drank another cup of coffee and asked the waitress to wrap up the rest.
After using the bathroom, she returned to her stool to attempt the paper once more. The morning
crowd shifted, newcomers ate, paid and left, and Scout found she was blinking back tears.
When there was a lull in the crowd, the waitress surprised her by sitting in the stool to her left and
cutting into a fresh-baked pie. She sliced two sections into creamy triangles and served them up on
small saucers, sliding one directly in front of Scout.
“You look like you could use some pie.”
Caught off guard by the generous offering, Scout stared. Her eyes went to the name tag clipped on
the waitress’s blouse. It started with a B.
“Go on. It’s on the house.”
Instinctively, Scout hesitated. Food was something she was rarely treated to prior to Lucian. She
smiled and reached for a fork. The pie melted like a cloud of heaven on her tongue. Chocolate.
The waitress grinned and moaned as she took a bite of her own slice. “Good, right?”
“It’s delicious.”
“Thanks. I made it this morning. Girl’s gotta have chocolate. Best substitute for sex there is.”
Scout laughed. “I should have a dozen then.”
The waitress snickered. “You having men troubles?”
Scout truly laughed. “Oh, you could say that. The trouble is I don’t want one.”
The waitress nodded knowingly and bit into another forkful of chocolate heaven. “Don’t want one,
but your heart says otherwise, I’m guessing.”
“I’m not on speaking terms with my heart right now,” Scout admitted, scraping up the last bit of
whipped chocolate from her plate.
The waitress laughed. “I’m Barbara.”
Scout smiled. “Scout.”
“You looking for something particular in that paper? Been thumbing through it all morning.”
She opened her mouth, but hesitated. “I’m trying to find an apartment.”
Barbara glanced at the paper then, with halting progression, reached over and turned a few pages.
“The apartment listings are here, hon, under the classifieds.” She met Scout’s gaze, a curious look in
her eyes. Leaning close, she whispered, “Can you read, Scout?”
Swallowing tightly, lips sealed, she shook her head. “Not much.”
Barbara scooted closer and nodded. In a soft voice, she said, “Okay, well, here’s one that’s not too
far. It’s a one–bedroom loft, rents for eight-fifty a month.”
Scout’s breath shook on an exhalation as she nodded humbly.
“And this one here’s a little less, but that isn’t in the greatest section of Folsom. It’s an efficiency.
You pay utilities and the rent’s seven-twenty. Are you looking to be close to a certain area?”
“I work at Clemons Market.”
“I know where that is. Let’s see . . .” Barbara pulled the paper closer and dragged a painted
fingernail down the typed column of listings. “Here we go. This one’s around there. Oh, and it rents
for only six-fifty. Says it’s an efficiency. You pay utilities. There’s a number here. You got a phone?”
“My phone broke.”
Barbara glanced at the cook window, then reached over the counter, a cordless phone appearing in
her hand. “Better let me make the call. My boss gets a bug up his ass whenever I let the customers use
the phone.”
Scout nodded and Barbara dialed, her fingers drumming over the Formica countertop as she waited.
“Yes, hello, I’m calling about the apartment located at twenty-five South Knights Boulevard. . . .Mm-
hm . . . No, just me . . . Today at two o’clock?” She glanced at Scout for conformation and whispered,
“He can show it at two today.”
Scout nodded.
“That would be wonderful . . . my name’s Scout . . .” She looked to Scout questioningly.
“Keats.”
“Keats. Scout Keats, and I’ll see you at two. Thank you very much.” Barbara clicked off the phone
and returned it to the other side of the counter. “There you go, hon.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you!” she said in return. “I’m hoping some good karma will pay off tonight when they pull
the Powerball.”
“Well, I hope you win,” Scout said.
“Me too. Mmm! What I could do with a couple hundred thousand.”
Scout grinned. “What would you do?”
“Oh, I’d buy this here diner and make it into the cutest little pie place Folsom’s ever seen. Get rid
of my man and find someone who treats me nice, someone who really appreciates me for me. Maybe
buy one of those fancy televisions.” She giggled. “Who knows?”
Scout saved her comments. There was no point in letting her jaded opinions of the cost of frivolous
luxuries taint this woman’s dreams. She hoped Barbara someday had her own pie place. Her pies
deserved a good home.
Taking out her money, she counted out a generous tip. “You buy yourself an extra ticket with this.”
“Aw, you don’t have to do that, hon. That pie was my treat.”
“I know. I want to. Take it as a thank-you for helping me find an apartment.”
“Well, I hope it’s real nice for you.”
***
Scout cooled her heels on South Knights Boulevard for twenty minutes waiting for the landlord to
show, checking her cheap watch. She paced, hoping he hadn’t given the apartment to someone else.