Page 3 of Quinn

Morgan stepped to the fore front. “Yes, ma’am.”

Grabbing his hat from the hook by the door, Quinn slapped it against his thigh and nodded. The production crew had stopped filming as soon as the sisters came to the door. Now most of the crew was halfway across the street, the smell of whatever Molly was cooking up calling to everyone like a siren’s song.

At the truck, Molly looked up from the window, a lock of curly hair escaping its bandana. “What can I get you boys today?”

To his delight, Molly’s famous brisket tacos and fried mac and cheese were on the menu. “My usual.”

Molly smiled at him. “Better give you your fill. Once the restaurant opens, you may not be so hungry.”

“Now Molly,” Sister patted her hand, “you know your food truck is an institution. Not everyone wants a sit-down restaurant.”

“Besides,” Sissy added, “different clientele entirely. You feed these hardworking men their lunch.” She winked at Quinn. “The restaurant will be for tourists who want to pretend they’re dining in the Old West.”

Quinn accepted his lunch from Molly. Ever since her heart attack not too long ago, folks in town had been worried she worked too hard. Staying open late, some nights really late, so that the crews could eat when filming ran long had to be hard on her. He thought that maybe that was one of the reasons the town council and the production company agreed to move the restaurant up, instead of doing the spa or another building on Main Street.

Savoring their lunch, there was plenty of oohs, aahs, yums, and finger licking.

“I hope whoever the new chef is that the menu is as good as Molly’s.” Morgan wiped his mouth. “Because if it is, this town’s going to be inundated with tourists.”

“And townsfolk from Tuckers Bluff,” Sister added, her expression turning contrite, facing the brothers. “Not that the Farraday pub and town café in Tuckers Bluff aren’t good places to eat, but you know what they say about variety—.”

Her sister cut her off, finishing her sentence. “It’s the spice of life.”

Excusing himself from the picnic table they’d all been seated at, Quinn headed back to work, catching fragments of conversation floating on the breeze—speculation about the new chef, plans for welcome baskets, debates about proper Texas hospitality. He had no idea what all the fuss was about. The new chef was arriving shortly, the appliances would be installed soon after, and then the restaurant would open. What was the big deal?

“Did you get the new appointment schedule?” Eloise pressed her phone closer to her ear, trying to hear Danny over the airport announcements.

“Third time you’ve asked, Sis.” His voice was steady—a good sign. “Three more weeks of therapy, then Dr. Marshall will authorize the transfer of my care to the VA clinic in Midland. She says it’s actually got a great PTSD program.”

If only he hadn’t had that last episode, the VA might have approved him to transfer in time to leave with her. Eloise watched a young family struggle past with too much luggage. “And you’ll be okay in the apartment alone? Mrs. Kowalski next door said—”

“El.” Danny’s tone held the echo of the big brother he used to be. “I’ve got this. The city’s not going to break me. Not with an end date in sight.” A pause. “Besides, if you want your deposit back, that crusty old landlady likes me better than you.”

She smiled despite the knot in her stomach. “Maybe, but remember…”

“I know. Three more weeks. The movers will come and pack up what’s left of the place. One night at the airport hotel, a flight to Midland, check in with the VA, then we’ll settle down in Hooterville.”

Again, it was so nice to hear her brother’s teasing sense of humor referring to that ancient retro TV show. “Sadieville.”

The gate agent’s voice cut through their conversation: “Now boarding Group two for flight 2247 to Midland, Texas.”

“That’s me.” Eloise gripped her carry-on. “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Hey El?” Danny’s voice softened. “Thanks. For finding us somewhere… quieter.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. “Love you, big brother.”

“Love you too, chef.”

Eloise tucked her phone away, joining the boarding line. Each step felt surreal, like she was walking into someone else’s life. Chicago’s morning rush hour was just ramping up outside the airport windows—horns honking, trains rumbling, the city awakening to its daily chaos. In a few hours, she’d be in Texas, where the only traffic might be the whispering sounds of tumbleweeds rolling through town. Lord she hoped it wasn’t really that bad. After all, she understood this was just the beginnings of a new tourist community, but hopefully it would be everything her brother needed.

The flight attendant scanned her boarding pass. “Seat 12A, on your left.”

Window seat. Perfect. Eloise stowed her bag and settled in, her mind already racing ahead. The production company’s car would meet her at Midland Airport. Then she’d be taken to her new home. In Sadieville. A ghost town. She didn’t know whether to laugh or take her temperature. She was moving to a literal ghost town.

The plane backed away from the gate, and Chicago’s skyline filled her window. Somewhere down there, Danny was probably doing his breathing exercises, focusing on the techniques that helped him cope with the urban assault on his senses. Three weeks. They just had to get through three more weeks apart.

The plane turned toward Texas, and Eloise closed her eyes. She’d packed her favorite knives in her checked bags, precious pieces of her Chicago life hand-washed, wrapped in cloth then bubble wrap and insured for as much as she was allowed. Doing her best to relax, not worry, embrace the change, her mind wandered to the first episode ofConstruction Cousins. Curious while waiting for her next interview with the Tuckers Bluff town council, she streamed the available episodes.

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