“That seems to be a common question lately.” I laughed and walked over to the desk. “You need some help?”
“Sure, yeah.” He handed me a list of stuff that his father had left for him.
I walked around and spent the next several hours doing inventory.
“Let’s grab some food.” Ryan walked up next to me.
“Okay.”
“Should I call Emmy and see if she wants to join?” he asked.
I wanted to say yes, but I knew we both needed a little space, especially after today.
“She was in the woods when I left. I would assume she’s still there.”
“She better head back soon if she wants to stay dry.”
The rain started to fall just as we sat down in the diner downtown.
“What can I get for you boys?” Ethel asked.
“Hey Ethel, how’s today been?” I asked as she sat down in the seat beside me.
“Well, since you two young men walked in, it got a little brighter,” she smiled at me then over at Ryan.
“You want the usual, Ranie-boy?”
“Absolutely. You know me so well,” Ryan chimed.
“You have ordered the same sandwich for fifteen years. Don't give me that much credit.”
“And you, Lukie-poo?”
“BLT and fries?” I said.
“Is that a question or an order?”
“Order.” I laughed and leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“You always know how to make an old lady feel special.”
“Who’s old?” Ryan asked.
“You are just as sweet as pie. It's good to see you boys in here. You started competing?”
“Last weekend,” I told her.
“Well, good luck. Maybe this will be the year,” she smiled.
“Let's hope so. I don't know how many more I have in me.” I winked at her, and she turned, taking the ticket to the kitchen. The diner wasn't packed, which was weird for the time of day. Must have been the threat of rain. The town was getting older, and so were we, and most of the people in town stayed home when it rained like it was supposed to today.
Ethel walked back over and sat down our drinks before disappearing to another table. She was kind to everyone, but we were the only ones in town that had special nicknames. She had called me Lukie-poo since I was ten years old, and while I didn't appreciate it then, I did now.
Ryan and I chatted over our meal about the next several trips, and every time he tried to steer the conversation toward Emerson, I diverted.
“What the hell is going on?” he stopped me when I was talking about the Portland trip.