Six Miles From Nashville by Elaine Littau Page B

loved that song. It brings back some pretty good memories.”
    “Too bad they are just memories. Don’t she give you kisses anymore?” Henry teased.
    “None your business.”
    “Hey, you’re the one that brought it up.”
    Betty took out her order pad quickly and greeted them with a sparkling smile. “Frank, do you want the usual or should I add a side of toast to your coffee? We have some really good jam that Miss Sweetie put up last year to go on it.”
    “Sure. That sounds real good.”
    “Me, too,” Henry urged.
    Betty tilted her head a bit and said, “Henry, I had you as a cinnamon roll man. Since you are so sweet and all, I was absolutely sure you would go for those that Bill made this morning with white icing on them.”
    “I’ll take some of them , too.”
    “Are you sure you want more than one? They are pretty big.”
    The man assured her, “I will take at least two. If they are too big, I’ll take one to Harriet.”
    “Good. I love for my customers to have more than coffee for their breakfast. After all, Bill is a great cook.” She took the little green order slips and clipped them on the wheel.
    Bill leaned in and read the order. “You got those old misers to order food? How on earth?”
    “All I had to do was remind them of your good cooking.”
    The other waitresses had noticed how Betty handled her customers and decided to give it a try. Soon the order wheel was full. Bill and Gus worked the griddle at top speed to keep up with the influx of orders.
    At eleven the little cafe experienced a lull. Bill walked out of the kitchen and mopped his forehead. “What was that? Did every resident of this community come in for breakfast today?”
    Sweetie put her arm around his waist and leaned her head on his chest. “It was only the regulars. You know, the coffee drinkers. Betty and the gals got them all to thinking about how good you can cook. I guess it made them hungry. You ought to see how full that cash register is.”
    Bill looked at the clock over the register. “It’s almost time for the lunch crowd. We better get a move on it. Betty, could you make tea? I just don’t see how I will have the time.”
    “Sure thing.”
    “Honey, do you need me to help you in the kitchen?” Sweetie asked.
    Bill patted her on the shoulder and walked to the kitchen. “Naw, you got your hands full out here.”
     

    The little cafe got so busy that Bill had to hire a dishwasher and another waitress. Sweetie joined him in the kitchen and thrived using her skills in pie making. Her talents were many in the dessert department. Each day one pie was put on special. Most residents of the village marked time by what pie day it was.
    While Betty enjoyed the good working environment, nights alone in her little apartment were sad to her. Every day she felt more removed from the people she loved.
    She took her turn at the cash register and took the stack of letters from the mailman when he came in for his mid-morning break. She hurried to the small office where Miss Sweetie made out the food orders and paychecks to see if there was anything for her.
    About once a month she got a letter from her mama and daddy. It seemed that they had forgiven her for lying to them. They were doing well. The words became fuzzy as tears clouded her vision. Even though her mama said the right things, there was an unseen wall between the lines.
    She gasped as she read the postscript.
    Some fella came by here looking for you. He said his name was Johnny, but I told him you didn’t know anyone by that name. He looked mad and drove off kicking up dirt like nobody’s business. I didn’t think you knew him, else you would have told me.
    Mama
     
    Betty grabbed her stomach and groaned loudly. “Oh no! He came to see me. He must think that I didn’t want to see him. I’ve lost him for good.”
    Miss Sweetie opened the door and stepped in. “I couldn’t help overhearing. What happened?”
    Betty pointed to the ending of the short letter.