Page 3 of A Simple Life

“A leaky faucet in the kitchen. A couple other small issues. I’ll make you a list.”

“Great. But nothing major?”

“A fresh coat of paint inside. But they requested that they could pick the colors and said they would paint. I said yes, but they had to be approved and that you would pay for the paint.” Laura smiled. “The daughter likes pink, I understand.”

“Ah.”

I finished my coffee, stretching. A new family for the vacant house, the crops were in, and I had food. It was a good day.

“What sort of business is going into Thelma’s? Another diner?”

“Sort of. A little more upscale than her sandwich shop.”

I snorted. “That won’t fly here.”

“No, I think the concept is good. Open early for breakfast and lunch. Closes at 3:30. Simple fare, good coffee, and they have a hook I understand. Catchy.”

“I liked Thelma’s.”

“You liked the meatloaf.”

“It was the best.”

“And her,” Laura said softly. “You thought she was the best.”

I looked over Laura’s shoulder. I had been twenty-three, Laura eighteen, when our parents had died in a car accident. Their unexpected deaths had shocked us, leaving us both adrift for a while. Laura had already been dating Bob and he’d helped her through the rough times, but I was a loner and always had been. I had no one, and somehow, losing them had made me more introverted. Thelma had stepped in, becoming the mother figure I needed to keep me from totally losing myself in grief. She became my sounding board and confidante. Helped Laura plan her wedding. Was there when Cody was born. I saw her almost every day at her old-fashioned diner, and it was she who helped me stock my freezer in the long winter months, planning for the busy spring ahead. When she didn’t wake up one morning, my life once again changed. Became darker. Lonelier.

“Sorry.” I shook my head, realizing Laura had said something. “I was thinking about Thelma.”

“I know you miss her, but she would be the first person to tell you to pull up your bootstraps. And to remind you this town needs eating places and new businesses. The prospective owner is twenty-eight and is enthusiastic. We need that. Try to be supportive.”

“I will.”

“Okay, great. Then you’ll vote yes at the town council meeting.”

“About what?”

“The new tenant wants some renovations done, and then there’s the name of the diner.”

“It’s changing?”

“Of course it is.”

“To what? The Sandwich Shop was a decent name.”

She shook her head. “New place, new name.”

“Which is?”

“Kind of a Big Dill.”

“Say what now?”

“That’s the hook. Something about pickles. It’s cute, right?”

I snorted. “Cute. I hate cute. I’m not voting for that name.”

“You’re going to be outvoted. The business plan is solid, the money is available, and we have a new business in town. All pluses. Stop being grumpy, locked in some false sense of loyalty, and welcome the change, John.”