Page 27 of Giving Grace

I’ve been to Benny’s a few times since moving to Boston and it’s always been crowded, but this is next level crowded. Like, people standing in a line that nearly wraps around the outside of the building just to put their names on the waitlist, crowded.

Even though I know the Gilroy’s have some sort of arrangement with the hostess, when I see the amount of people waiting to get in, I immediately slow my pace. “Molly, I’m not sure we have time for this…” It’s a lie. We have time. I have a car. I can just drive to the park after breakfast if I wanted to. The truth is that even though I agreed to pancakes—just pancakes—the thought of sitting across a table from Ryan for an hour, while pretending that everything is great when it isn’t makes me want to snatch Molly up and run home.

All the way back to Ohio.

“I got this,” Ryan says, his hand pressed into the small of my back for just a moment, before he pulls it away with a mumbled sorry. Pulling the door open, he steps aside so Molly and I can pass through it first.

As soon as we’re in, Ryan takes the lead, grabbing Moll’s hand so she won’t get lost in the crowd, pulling her in his wake, weaving and pushing his way through the tight knot of people crowding the hostess station.

Like the first few times I’ve been here, Nora the hostess is behind the podium and as soon as she sees me, her eyes narrow. She can barely see over the hostess station but the gaze that focuses on me is razor sharp. “Sorry, Grace,” she barks at me in a tone that tells me she really isn’t all that sorry. “You n’ me ain’t there yet, so unless you got one of my boys in your pocket, you’re gonna—”

Then she sees Ryan.

“Where the hell have you been?” Her sharp tone cuts across the lobby of the diner and everyone in it goes quiet, looking around, trying to figure out which one of them was stupid enough to incur Nora’s wrath.

“Hey, Nora,” Ryan says, giving her one of his odd, flat smiles. “As terrifying as ever.”

“Flattery ain’t getting you out of this one, and I asked you a question,” she snarls at him while she scrambles down from her perch as fast as her old bones will allow. When her feet are finally on the floor, she stalks her way toward him, the crowd of people parting like she’s Moses in orthopedic shoes. Finally stopping in front of us, she cranes her neck back as far as it will go to glare up at him. “Where the hell have you been?”

Looking a little uncomfortable about being the sudden center of everyone’s attention, Ryan takes a quick glance around the room before refocusing on the tiny tyrant in front of him. “Nora, I—”

“Three months.” She lifts a bony finger and jabs it at him. “You’ve been home for three whole months and you just stroll in here and think—”

Letting go of Molly’s hand, Ryan reaches for Nora’s. “I’m okay,” he tells her, his fingers closing around hers to give them a gentle squeeze. “I’m okay, Nora.”

Her face softens and her mouth starts to tremble, her accusatory glare going dull with tears as it drifts down to the cane Ryan is using to keep himself upright. When she finally drags her gaze back to his face, her expression is hardened and her eyes are hot and dry. “I know that,” she snaps back, jerking her hand out of Ryan’s grasp. “I got eyes, don’t I? What you should be is sorry for is taking so damn long to drag your sorry ass in here.”

“I am.” His mouth twitches again as he finds Molly’s hand again with his own without even looking for it. “I’m sorry—I should’ve come sooner. Forgive me?”

Nora makes an ugly noise in the back of her throat. “Next time you disappear on—”

“There won’t be a next time,” he tells her with a head shake. “I’m out of commission—” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing and scraping inside his throat. “Home for good.”

“You better be.” She gives him another angry glare but it’s thin enough to show the emotion beneath. Worry and relief. Love and maybe a little bit of desperation. She catches me looking at her and pins me with a narrowed, beady-eyed glare. “You got somethin’ to say to me, Grace?”

I shake my head, instincts pushing my feet across the floor, moving me closer to Ryan. Before I follow my head shake with an emphatic no, Nora drops her gaze down, letting it settle on Molly.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Molly,” she says, totally nonplussed by Nora’s trademark hostility. “Who are you?”

Molly’s blunt tone cracks the hard granite of Nora’s face. “I’m Nora.” Her sharp, bird-like gaze finds me again, marking the fact that Molly is practically my clone. “Who’s he to you?” Nora asks, pointing her gnarled finger at Ryan.

“He’s my friend,” Molly tells her, quick and sure. “We’re here for pancakes and hot chocolate—” She looks up at Ryan again. “I can have hot chocolate, right?” When he gives her the nod, Molly turns back to Nora and gives her a triumphant smile.

“Well, what’re you waitin’ for, a tickertape parade?” Nora says with an impatient snort, waving her hand at Ryan, dismissing the lot of us. “Nothin’s changed—you know where to go.”

“Thanks, Nora,” Ryan says, leaning heavily on his cane to bend over to drop a quick kiss on her wrinkled cheek.

“Glad you’re home,” she tells him, giving him a pat on his cheek that sounds more like a slap. “Now get out of here and let me get back to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryan says, herding us toward the dining room and to the booth that always sits empty, no matter how busy they are, just waiting for a Gilroy.

Like the last time, Ryan struggles a bit to get himself into the booth. By the time he manages to get settled, the waitress is standing over us, coffee pot in hand.

Ryan gives her a nod. “And a hot chocolate, when you get a chance,” he says, turning over our cups for the waitress.

“With whipped cream, please,” Molly adds, her little face lighting up with a grin when the waitress nods her approval. Eating out is something we never did much before moving here. She must think she’s died and gone to heaven.

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