The Keeping(38)
Chapter 11
Mel parked her car on the main street and turned off the engine. It was Monday morning and traffic in Stump River was light. A few vehicles were parked in front of the various businesses; pedestrians strolled down the sidewalks at the kind of leisurely pace you’d never encounter in the hustle and bustle of Chicago. For a moment, Mel absorbed her surroundings, lost in wonder at the differences between the lifestyle before her and what she was accustomed to. There were no exhaust fumes, no angry commuters gesturing rudely at each other, no screeching brakes, no high rise office buildings blocking the view of the sky. Life here appeared so simple and quiet, almost a throwback to a different time.
She stared around for a few moments before focusing on the building directly across the street—Miller’s Service Station. The low brick building was white and had a red and blue sign that proclaimed the name of the owner and hours of business. One set of gas pumps was in the front and two large bays for repairing cars were located to the side. A front office with a large plate glass window offered a view inside—no metal bars to prevent break-ins, Mel noted idly. Someone was moving about inside, though with the glare from the sun, she wasn’t sure who. Was it Taylor? Lucy, the waitress, said he worked on Mondays, so the chances were good that he was in there. Now, what was she going to do about it? There’d been no message from him this morning, not that she’d really expected there to be one, but she’d hoped.
Since he hadn’t contacted her, she assumed he was still undecided about the interview. The question was, should she go over there and talk to him? If she did, maybe she could convince him to agree. On the other hand, maybe he’d get upset, thinking she was pushy, and flat out refuse. She furrowed her brow, weighing her options.
When no clear answer came to mind, she struck the steering wheel in frustration and then yelped. She’d hit the horn by accident and it was honking...continuously. Startled, Mel stared at the wheel for a moment before her brain finally kicked in and she began frantically jiggling the annoying feature. By the time she stopped the noise, everyone in the entire two block expanse of downtown Stump River was looking her way. Even Josh and Beth Kennedy were standing in the doorway of the Gazette. Giving a shy wave at her temporary landlords, she sunk down in her seat knowing her face was flushing with mortification.
Hopefully, the little incident didn’t make the front page of the paper. After all, not much seemed to happen in a town of this size. A stuck horn on a car could be big news. As she hid from view, Mel pictured the headlines; Foreigner Creates Havoc in Downtown Core. She shook her head ruefully. Damn, this never happened in a movie when the heroine hit the steering wheel. Why did these things always happen to her? Rubbing her sore hand—the steering wheel had been harder than she’d expected—she reflected that the person in the movie never hurt their hand, either.
After several minutes of hiding out below the dashboard, Mel slowly sat up and looked around. Everyone had gone about their business. Traffic was moving normally and no one was staring out of their windows wondering who the idiot in the blue car might be. Relieved to no longer be the centre of attention, she got out of the car and headed into the diner. There was no point in sitting outside, when she could be inside drinking coffee and possibly eating a Danish. Food could be such a source of comfort, she mused. Besides, since she’d have a perfect view of the service station, she could put it on her expense tab as ‘surveillance.’
Five minutes later she was sitting ensconced at a table, happily munching on a fresh cherry cheese Danish and drinking a cup of coffee. She’d ordered a half decaf-half regular mix, since she was trying to cut back on her caffeine habit and was feeling rather pleased with herself for her efforts. Eyeing the thick, fresh baked Danish slathered in icing, she wondered if she should have ordered it with half the calories, if only such a thing were possible. Still, she had to eat to keep her strength up, and there were cherries in the pastry, so that must mean it had some redeeming qualities. Surely at least one vitamin or antioxidant had survived the baking process. Mel laughed at her own train of thought; she’d do anything to justify her favourite foods!
Licking a stray bit of icing off of her finger, Mel checked out her surroundings more carefully than she had the previous day. The diner was bright and clean, with white counters and red vinyl covered seats. Red checked curtains hung from the large plate glass window, tied back so as to not obstruct the view of the street. A white board had daily specials listed on it, and a glass display case showed a variety of homemade baked goods.