death. But Addie had gotten it into her head that keeping the Do-Or-Diner open would give him a purpose he wouldn’t find at the bottom of a bottle of vodka. What Addie didn’t understand was that what you had could never make up for what you’d lost.
He and Margaret had closed the diner for a week each summer to take Addie on a family vacation. They had driven by car, to towns with names that drew them: Cape Porpoise, Maine; Egypt, Massachusetts; Paw Paw, Michigan; Defiance, Ohio. Roy would point out a flock of Canada geese, a looming purple mountain, a sunlit field of wheat-and then he’d glance in the back to find his daughter asleep on the backseat, the whole world passing her by. “There’s an elephant in the lane next to us!” he’d call out. “The moon is falling out of the sky!” Anything to make Addie take stock of her surroundings.
“The moon is falling out of the sky,” Roy murmured now.
“What?”
“I said, yes, there are advantages to being here.”
A customer came in, ringing the bell over the door. “Hey,” Addie called out, her smile set firmly in place like a child’s Halloween mask. As she went to seat the woman, Jack poked his head through the double doors.
“Roy,” he whispered. “Did Stuart come in today?”
“Stuart, the old guy?” Roy said, although he himself couldn’t have been much younger than Stuart. “Nah.”
“I, uh, I’m worried about him.”
“How come?”
“He hasn’t missed breakfast a single day since I’ve been working here. And I didn’t see him out with the cow this morning, either.”
Addie walked up to the two men. “What’s the matter?”
“Stuart,” Roy explained. “He’s gone missing.”
She frowned. “He wasn’t in today-you’re right. Did you try calling his house?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know his last name.”
“Hollings.” Addie dialed a number, her expression growing tighter with each ring. “He lives by himself, in that old farmhouse behind the pharmaceutical plant.”
“Maybe he just went away for a while.”
“Not Stuart. The last trip he went on was to Concord, in 1982. I’ll go check on him. Dad, don’t let Chloe sneak any snacks before lunchtime, no matter how much she says she’s starving.” She reached around her waist to untie her apron, her breasts thrusting forward in the process. Jack didn’t want to notice, but he did, and he grew so flustered that it took him a moment to recognize her intentions. “Here,” she said, tossing the apron and order pad at him. “You’ve just been promoted.”
Stuart’s farmhouse sat at the crest of a hill, snowy pastures draped around it like the settling skirts of a debutante. Addie parked in a hurry and got out of her car. His cow was lowing angrily from the barn-something that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck, since nothing meant more to the old man than caring for that cow.
“Stuart?” Addie let herself into the barn, empty save for the swollen cow. She raced up the path to the house, calling his name. The front door was unlocked. “Stuart, it’s Addie. From the diner. Are you here?”
She moved through the puzzle of the unfamiliar house until she reached the kitchen. “Stuart?” Addie said, and then she screamed.
He was lying on his side in a pool of blood, his eyes open but half of his face curiously wooden. “Oh, God. Can you speak to me, Stuart?”
Addie had to lean close and focus hard to understand the mangled word that crawled from Stuart’s slack mouth. “Sauce?” she repeated, and then she realized that the spreading red had come from a broken jar and smelled of tomatoes.
The phone was an old 1950s wall-mounted rotary. It took forever to dial 911 and get an ambulance dispatched. She returned to the pantry and got to her knees right in the puddle of spaghetti sauce. She stroked the fine silver hairs that glimmered over Stuart’s scalp. To how many deaths would she have to bear witness?
Roy untied the strings of the waitress apron and
He and Margaret had closed the diner for a week each summer to take Addie on a family vacation. They had driven by car, to towns with names that drew them: Cape Porpoise, Maine; Egypt, Massachusetts; Paw Paw, Michigan; Defiance, Ohio. Roy would point out a flock of Canada geese, a looming purple mountain, a sunlit field of wheat-and then he’d glance in the back to find his daughter asleep on the backseat, the whole world passing her by. “There’s an elephant in the lane next to us!” he’d call out. “The moon is falling out of the sky!” Anything to make Addie take stock of her surroundings.
“The moon is falling out of the sky,” Roy murmured now.
“What?”
“I said, yes, there are advantages to being here.”
A customer came in, ringing the bell over the door. “Hey,” Addie called out, her smile set firmly in place like a child’s Halloween mask. As she went to seat the woman, Jack poked his head through the double doors.
“Roy,” he whispered. “Did Stuart come in today?”
“Stuart, the old guy?” Roy said, although he himself couldn’t have been much younger than Stuart. “Nah.”
“I, uh, I’m worried about him.”
“How come?”
“He hasn’t missed breakfast a single day since I’ve been working here. And I didn’t see him out with the cow this morning, either.”
Addie walked up to the two men. “What’s the matter?”
“Stuart,” Roy explained. “He’s gone missing.”
She frowned. “He wasn’t in today-you’re right. Did you try calling his house?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know his last name.”
“Hollings.” Addie dialed a number, her expression growing tighter with each ring. “He lives by himself, in that old farmhouse behind the pharmaceutical plant.”
“Maybe he just went away for a while.”
“Not Stuart. The last trip he went on was to Concord, in 1982. I’ll go check on him. Dad, don’t let Chloe sneak any snacks before lunchtime, no matter how much she says she’s starving.” She reached around her waist to untie her apron, her breasts thrusting forward in the process. Jack didn’t want to notice, but he did, and he grew so flustered that it took him a moment to recognize her intentions. “Here,” she said, tossing the apron and order pad at him. “You’ve just been promoted.”
Stuart’s farmhouse sat at the crest of a hill, snowy pastures draped around it like the settling skirts of a debutante. Addie parked in a hurry and got out of her car. His cow was lowing angrily from the barn-something that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck, since nothing meant more to the old man than caring for that cow.
“Stuart?” Addie let herself into the barn, empty save for the swollen cow. She raced up the path to the house, calling his name. The front door was unlocked. “Stuart, it’s Addie. From the diner. Are you here?”
She moved through the puzzle of the unfamiliar house until she reached the kitchen. “Stuart?” Addie said, and then she screamed.
He was lying on his side in a pool of blood, his eyes open but half of his face curiously wooden. “Oh, God. Can you speak to me, Stuart?”
Addie had to lean close and focus hard to understand the mangled word that crawled from Stuart’s slack mouth. “Sauce?” she repeated, and then she realized that the spreading red had come from a broken jar and smelled of tomatoes.
The phone was an old 1950s wall-mounted rotary. It took forever to dial 911 and get an ambulance dispatched. She returned to the pantry and got to her knees right in the puddle of spaghetti sauce. She stroked the fine silver hairs that glimmered over Stuart’s scalp. To how many deaths would she have to bear witness?
Roy untied the strings of the waitress apron and
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