Page 16 of Savage Heart

“Well, that is just lovely,” Mom says. “And so impressive that you can read already. I can tell from your vocabulary that you are very smart.”

“Thank you,” she says. “Otis says an idle mind can become a troubled mind.”

“Who is Otis? I think he’s onto something,” Jennifer says, and Mom agrees.

“Otis is my neighbor. He’s very nice. You’d like him.” Iris grins at me.

“What is idle?” I ask.

“It means a lack of purpose,” she says.

Mom’s eyebrows are sky high in the rearview mirror, and Jennifer turns around to look at Iris.

“Can you teach Lincoln some of your vocabulary?” Jennifer asks. “He could stand to think of something besides football every now and then.”

“I’m your football friend,” Lincoln says, making another funny face while trying to balance the football on his head.

Iris and I laugh hard, and there are no more tears.

“Yes.” Iris makes a funny face back. “I’ve made two friends today. I am so happy about that.”

Chapter 4: Another Day

Iris

Vera takes one look at me and whistles.

“Girl, you’ve had a morning,” she says.

“What gave it away?”

She sighs. “Honestly? Everything. Even your hair looks tired.”

I laugh. “Well, that’s true. And you’re right. It’s been a morning.”

The door jingles, and she sighs again.

“I want to hear all about it during our lull.” Vera moves past me to get menus for the customers who just came in.

I glance around the restaurant to see how full we are. Kell is in the kitchen, and her eyebrows lift when I walk back.

“Vera already informed me that even my hair looks tired, so whatever you’re thinking, save it,” I tell her.

She laughs. “Got it.”

I’ve been a server at Prairie Rose Soda Fountain since my sophomore year of high school. Either Kell or her husband, Russell, do the cooking, sometimes Vera in a pinch. Vera and I cover the tables for breakfast and lunch, while a few teenagers work most evenings and weekends.

Driving through the town of Ironwood is like stepping back in time. Our tiny downtown has most of the same buildings it had a hundred years ago. Since 1930, Prairie Rose has stood proudly on Market Row, Ironwood’s main drag. The old-fashioned drugstore-turned-restaurant has preserved its history with woodwork and wallpaper to look like the original. Small jade-green tiles line the bar in front of dark-brown swiveled barstools. Mahogany encases the bar and covers the bar top, with floral wallpaper on the back wall. The original jade-green tile on the floor is my favorite, along with the stamped tin ceiling.

A wall of windows brightens up the restaurant with a perfect view of the mountains. In the distance are the sprawling acres of Harrington Ranch.

Prairie Rose has looked like this my entire life, with an occasional touch-up to keep it fresh. It’s my home away from home.

With the exception of Otis, who I claim as my family, Vera, Kell, and Russell are my only friends. They’re actually more like my family too. We certainly see each other the most. It’s a good thing they love me, because otherwise, Ironwood would be a very lonely place.

Christa Norwood comes in with her two little kids. She was the same year as me at school, and we were friends. Not close friends—my only close friends were Maverick and Lincoln—but we sat by each other in several classes. We were usually at the same table at lunch.

Now she can hardly look at me without snarling.