Six Miles From Nashville by Elaine Littau Page A

written on a stenographer’s notebook hanging on a nail by the door on the kitchen side of the wall. He had made a fresh page for them to mark their hours.
    They had been with Sweetie and him for years except for Betty. It seemed that the energetic girl breathed new life into the place. He saw that the trash can was half full, so he took it to the dumpster. His car sat nearby and he remembered a box that he intended on bringing inside in case Sweetie wanted to use some of the stuff to decorate with.
    He had just put the box on the table of the back booth when Sweetie came huffing and puffing with her arms loaded. “ Bill! Bill! I found just the thing! The girl at the five and dime said that yellow, orange, and avocado are the rage right now. Look, I found these big metal orange flowers with the avocado green leaves on them. Aren’t they striking next to the yellow paint?”
    “You are a wonder, Miss Sweetie! It looks just fine.”
    “What’s in the box, Bill?”
    He frowned and nudged it away. “Well, I had some stuff I thought might look nice in here.”
    “Let’s see.”
    He opened it to reveal a large stack of records. “They were from when we went around together. I thought it would remind us of all the fun we had if we saw some of those old song titles on the wall.”
    “We don’t want to ruin them, but I think we can hang them from the hole in the middle.”
    “See, there’s ‘Walkin’ the Floor Over You’ by Earnest Tubb.”
    She hopped up and down in excitement. “I love dancing with you to that song.”
    “I have an idea. Why don’t I try to find a jukebox to put over here between the kitchen and washrooms? I’m sure the customers would like it.”
    “Really? I know I would love it.”
    “How about I make a little step up stage in case someone with some talent comes in and might share a song with us?”
    “I don’t know where it would fit.”
    “This back table would work on a platform. Whenever we have somebody here to sing or play, we can take the table to the back room. Shoot, we could have one night a week be for live music!”
    “Course, we can’t afford anybody high priced, can we?” Sweetie ’s face was flushed with excitement.
    “Nope, we don’t pay ‘em. They sing for tips and practice. Who knows, it might help bring us new customers.”
    “We are just a stone’s throw from Nashville. It might work.”
    The rest of the day the two discussed the future of their small business and hung their new metal flowers and sprinkled old black records among them. When they finished , they declared the old place was finally up to date.
    “It kinda reminds me of the opening to the Glen Campbell TV show or even Laugh In.” Sweetie said in a high pitched giggly voice.
    “Better that than Hee Haw. That decoration has taken over Nashville. I am tired of it,” Bill declared with conviction.
    Sweetie paused to look at her husband. She hadn’t seen him this excited about their cafe in years. He was so handsome with his dark brown hair and large chocolate colored eyes. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he grinned at her. It occurred to her that he was only thirty years old. Surely it was his turn to do more than cook for the cafe. It was worth all the work and expense to see him with a happy expression on his face. Thank You, Lord. I hope it lasts.

    When Betty Barnes walked through the door to the cafe she thought she was in the wrong building. Susan and Daisy had arrived and stood in awe of the place. “Why, it looks kinda uptown, don’t it?” Daisy asked.
    Miss Sweetie and Bill greeted them warmly. “I hope you got some rest. We are liable to be busy once word gets out about how nice the place looks,” Bill said with a nod.
    “Sure nuff. It does look nice,” Susan said.
    Soon the morning crowd shuffled through the door. They slid into their regular seats and looked at the old records on the walls.
    Frank Miller pointed at one with a dark red label, ‘Candy Kisses’, my wife