Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
The only con was that they’d mentioned the laundry and dry cleaning wouldn’t be ready right away. At first, I’d been upset, not wanting to come to town again, but then I remembered where I was. Things moved slower in a small town, and there was nothing wrong with that. Plus, I needed to get out more often.
Recovering from that hiccup, I still planned to eat while I was in town. Mark had mentioned a diner right around the corner. It sounded like the perfect place for my first Ashford dining experience. I’d almost asked if he wanted to join me, simply so I wouldn’t be alone, but I stopped myself, knowing it might come off a little odd. Besides, I couldn’t latch on to the first person who was nice to me and use them for cover. Even so, I chalked it up as a win that I would even consider eating with someone else. Slowly but surely, I might actually make it back to the land of the living.
I left the truck where it was parked across the road from Foley’s and walked to the diner. I passed a mother and her two children along the way, discussing whether they should get a dog or a cat. The youngest child didn’t seem to understand why they couldn’t have both. Then, two women passed me, both going on about a fundraiser the church was having. I smiled slightly, keeping my head down. These were the types of interactions I needed. Listening to people’s stories, watching them spend time with each other—it was what made my writing come to life. You couldn’t get the same energy locked up in your home alone.
Finally, I saw the bright red awning Mark had described. I stepped to the side, letting a group of people leave, before ducking into the building. The aroma of Italian spices and fresh-baked bread hit me immediately. My stomach growled. I hadn’t realized I was that hungry, but then I remembered the cold oatmeal. I found a booth in the corner, furthest away from the door but with a straight shot to it in case I needed to leave quickly.
A waitress came by with a menu. “Afternoon. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water, please. And a straw.”
She smiled, turned on her heels, and disappeared behind a wall. Minutes later, she was back with a large glass of ice water and a straw, asking if I was ready to order.
“If you don’t mind, I need a few minutes.”
“Absolutely. It takes some time the first time you visit.”
I started to ask how she knew but realized that was a silly question. I was sure everyone knew I was the newcomer in town. But to their credit, they weren’t gawking or pointing at me. It didn’t seem like anyone recognized me—even better. Deciding on the BLT and house salad, I motioned for the waitress. She came right away and jotted my order down. When she took the menu away, I realized I didn’t have anything else to focus on.
Resorting to scrolling through my phone, I didn’t want to come off as rude, but I didn’t really want anyone to come talk to me either. Thankfully, the customers were all wrapped up in their meals, and the staff were busy running this way and that. If things continued as they were, I would have made a big deal out of nothing.
The waitress returned with my meal. “Here you go, sir. Please let me know if you need anything else. And just so you know, we do carry out as well.”
I thanked her and drizzled dressing over my salad. Mark had mentioned big servings, and he wasn’t kidding. As I ate, I wondered about asking for the menu again. It might be nice to pick something up for later.
Taking a chance, I allowed my eyes to wander, taking in the decor. The diner walls were accented with wooden beams, white plaster showing between them. The walls were decorated with town memorabilia. It gave the diner a homey feeling. Looking up, I noticed a shelf along the perimeter of the diner that had a toy train running along it, circling the whole diner. It was a nice touch, adding a bit of whimsy to the space.
The door opened and a woman and man walked in. I looked down out of habit but not before I realized the woman was familiar. Could it truly be her? I glanced their way as they sat down at the counter, almost convinced now. Checking my phone, I found what I was looking for. I was right—I’d seen her YouTube videos. Her name was Malia. She’d been in an accident and lost a leg. She had an outstanding personality and a lot of followers. Her hope with the videos was to bring awareness to amputees.