CHAPTER TWO
Owen Campbell parked his rental car in a space on Main Street and climbed out of the car. He stretched his legs and rolled his shoulders. This trip wasn’t really going much better than the last one.
He noticed there were no parking meters in this town, just lots of free parking spaces along the cobblestone street.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him of his mission—dinner. He'd spent last night in a hotel in New Orleans and had worked most of the day there. He’d decided it was silly to drive back and forth from New Orleans to Comfort Crossing and he’d made a reservation at a bed-and-breakfast in Comfort Crossing for the rest of his stay. As long as he had his computer and the internet, he could work from anywhere.
He’d missed lunch, which wasn’t too unusual for him, but he was famished now. He spotted the sign for Magnolia Cafe. It was after the dinner rush, but through their big front window he could see a handful of customers still at their tables. He’d get a bite to eat, then go on to Sweet Tea Bed and Breakfast where he’d booked a room. He smiled at the name of the B&B, such a Southern sounding name.
He entered the cafe and was greeted by a young woman with a stack of menus. “Welcome to Magnolia Cafe. One?”
“Yes, just one. Could I sit by the window, please?”
“Sure thing.”
He followed the woman to a table by the window and slid into a chair. He’d be able to scope out the town outside the window while he ate. The streetlights began to flicker on, one by one, illuminating the storefronts and sidewalk.
He’d hired a private investigator when he’d found out about Jake. The photos the investigator had taken of the area hadn’t done it justice. It really was a picturesque town.
A waitress bustled up to his table. “Hi, I’m Becky Lee.” She plopped down a napkin roll of silverware and a glass of ice water. She was a tall, blonde woman in the maybe-in-her-thirties age bracket. Probably. Her hair was pulled back, but tendrils had broken loose and framed her face. She had just the tiniest hint of southern twang to her speech.
“Hello, Becky Lee. What do you suggest?” He hadn’t even looked at the menu.
“Everything is good here. The fried chicken. The meatloaf. Cook’s got a steak soup tonight.”
“I’ll try the fried chicken and a side salad.”
“Good choice. Anything to drink?”
“Iced tea.”
“Sweet tea?”
“That would be fine.”
He watched Becky Lee head back toward the kitchen. He had plans to try out all the restaurants in town and see what each one was like. He’d learned that Comfort Crossing was becoming a weekend destination these days. Plenty of antique shops, craft shops, and businesses, but just a handful of restaurants. A couple of old plantations turned into inns right outside the town. He’d been working on an idea to get Jake to trust him. He just wanted to check out the town in person before deciding.
He looked out the window, carefully noting the names on the storefronts across the street. A market, an artsy looking shop, a veterinary clinic. It looked like every building was occupied as far as he could see. It was nice to see a small town brimming with business instead of slowly dying away like so many small towns across the country.
Becky Lee came out with his dinner. “Enjoy.”
“I’m sure I will.”
She paused for a moment. “You just passing through?”
Ah, small towns. He’d heard small town folk always needed to know what was going on with strangers to their town. It was so different than Chicago, where no one really asked him about his business, or his life for that matter. “Here on business for a few days.” That was close enough to the truth.
“Got a place to stay?”
“I was staying in New Orleans, but I’ll be staying at Sweet Tea Bed and Breakfast for a while.”
“The Sweet Tea. Good choice. Rebecca and Larry are the best. You’re in for a real treat with her breakfasts. It’s just right down the street. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, I’ll let you eat then.” Becky Lee hurried away toward another table with a couple and a small boy who was standing beside the table, pulling on his father’s hand, obviously ready to leave.
The fried chicken was excellent. Becky Lee’s suggestion had been good. He noticed they served no alcohol here, just soft drinks, coffee, tea, and lemonade. He filed away that fact.
After he finished his meal, he pulled out the small leather notebook he always carried and jotted down a few notes. He couldn’t help it. He was a perpetual note taker. It was how he kept his life in order. He liked order. He may be a bit obsessed with it, but he was sure that was a good trait.