torches, and a large poster of an azure sea bordering a strip of gleaming, pale sand with a tag line reading, Need a break? Paradise is waiting for you! James always felt agreeably transported when he ate beneath the island relics. It was as if he only needed to step into the poster in order to find respite from the long winter days living in a small town enclosed by mountains. Now that spring had come to Quincy’s Gap, James sat in the booth dreaming of a vacation in paradise, he and Lucy strolling hand in hand on the stretches of pristine sand.
“Coffee, hon?” Dolly asked, jiggling a chewed pencil between her thumb and index finger. She always carried the pencil but never used it to take an order, as her memory was flawless.
“Please.” James smiled at the busty, middle-aged proprietor and issued a quick wave to her husband, Clint, who had just emerged from his domain in the kitchen in order to refill his soda glass. Dolly placed a tiny creamer filled with half-and-half in front of James and gave him a thorough inspection as he stirred a packet of artificial sweetener into his coffee.
“You do somethin’ different with your hair, Professor?” she asked, in no hurry to move away and check on her other customers.
James absently touched a nutmeg-colored strand and then shook his head. “No, ma’am. Um, do you have skim milk, Dolly? I’ve joined that new Witness to Fitness program and I don’t think I can afford to waste any food points using half-and-half in my coffee.”
“Sure do, hon. Back in a flash.” Dolly hustled off to the kitchen and returned with another metal creamer. Putting a hand on her hip as if to signal the commencement of a casual chat, Dolly asked, “So what do you think of that Ronnie Levitt girl? She’s a cute little thang if you like your women with no meat on ’em. That girl’s a walkin’ celery stick if you ask me. But you men can see things different, can’t you?” She raised her brows as if daring James to argue and her blue- and silver-tinted lids twinkled beneath the overhead lights.
James shrugged. He didn’t dare tell Dolly how he truly felt about Ronnie or his feelings would be spread around town faster than the winter flu. “A bit too perky for me,” was all he could manage without fully giving away how irritating he found Ronnie Levitt.
Dolly frowned. She disliked terse answers. She lived and breathed for gossip and for the opportunity to play matchmaker with any of Quincy’s Gap singles. James continuously disappointed her attempts on both fronts. He had had many a meal interrupted while Dolly introduced him to one unattached female after another. Most of the time the women looked equally mortified to have been led over to his table like mares about to be given over for use on a stud farm.
Suddenly, Dolly’s sharp eyes spied a new victim approaching the front door. “Oh! Here comes Lucy Hanover. Well, I’ll be plucked and strung up like a chicken! She’s all gussied up! I wonder who she’s gotten so dolled up for?” Her large head pivoted back and forth as she examined the customers seated around her. “Hmm. Maybe it’s …” she mumbled to herself and rushed off to take up a more favorable viewing position from behind the counter.
James was relieved that he had chosen to sit with his back to the entrance. He was nervous enough as it was and didn’t need to compound his anxiety by watching out for Lucy’s arrival. He had no idea how he was going to begin to tell her how he felt. The brightness of the diner seemed to induce loud conversation, not the whispered endearments he had planned upon. And when Lucy finally slid into the opposite side of his booth, James regretted his choice of seating. He wished he had been prepared for her dramatic change in appearance from a long way off.
She had clearly just had her hair done for her thick, caramel locks were neatly sheared and angled into an attractive bob that framed her soft chin perfectly. She wore a
“Coffee, hon?” Dolly asked, jiggling a chewed pencil between her thumb and index finger. She always carried the pencil but never used it to take an order, as her memory was flawless.
“Please.” James smiled at the busty, middle-aged proprietor and issued a quick wave to her husband, Clint, who had just emerged from his domain in the kitchen in order to refill his soda glass. Dolly placed a tiny creamer filled with half-and-half in front of James and gave him a thorough inspection as he stirred a packet of artificial sweetener into his coffee.
“You do somethin’ different with your hair, Professor?” she asked, in no hurry to move away and check on her other customers.
James absently touched a nutmeg-colored strand and then shook his head. “No, ma’am. Um, do you have skim milk, Dolly? I’ve joined that new Witness to Fitness program and I don’t think I can afford to waste any food points using half-and-half in my coffee.”
“Sure do, hon. Back in a flash.” Dolly hustled off to the kitchen and returned with another metal creamer. Putting a hand on her hip as if to signal the commencement of a casual chat, Dolly asked, “So what do you think of that Ronnie Levitt girl? She’s a cute little thang if you like your women with no meat on ’em. That girl’s a walkin’ celery stick if you ask me. But you men can see things different, can’t you?” She raised her brows as if daring James to argue and her blue- and silver-tinted lids twinkled beneath the overhead lights.
James shrugged. He didn’t dare tell Dolly how he truly felt about Ronnie or his feelings would be spread around town faster than the winter flu. “A bit too perky for me,” was all he could manage without fully giving away how irritating he found Ronnie Levitt.
Dolly frowned. She disliked terse answers. She lived and breathed for gossip and for the opportunity to play matchmaker with any of Quincy’s Gap singles. James continuously disappointed her attempts on both fronts. He had had many a meal interrupted while Dolly introduced him to one unattached female after another. Most of the time the women looked equally mortified to have been led over to his table like mares about to be given over for use on a stud farm.
Suddenly, Dolly’s sharp eyes spied a new victim approaching the front door. “Oh! Here comes Lucy Hanover. Well, I’ll be plucked and strung up like a chicken! She’s all gussied up! I wonder who she’s gotten so dolled up for?” Her large head pivoted back and forth as she examined the customers seated around her. “Hmm. Maybe it’s …” she mumbled to herself and rushed off to take up a more favorable viewing position from behind the counter.
James was relieved that he had chosen to sit with his back to the entrance. He was nervous enough as it was and didn’t need to compound his anxiety by watching out for Lucy’s arrival. He had no idea how he was going to begin to tell her how he felt. The brightness of the diner seemed to induce loud conversation, not the whispered endearments he had planned upon. And when Lucy finally slid into the opposite side of his booth, James regretted his choice of seating. He wished he had been prepared for her dramatic change in appearance from a long way off.
She had clearly just had her hair done for her thick, caramel locks were neatly sheared and angled into an attractive bob that framed her soft chin perfectly. She wore a
Similar Books
