Page 39 of Solid Foundation
“Hungry?”
He shrugged. “I figured this would be the place to find people who know things.”
“Wow,” I said, my voice thick with sarcasm. “So specific.”
He rolled his eyes, flipped me the bird, and got out of his truck.
We entered the little diner, which turned out to be hot and stuffy, ancient tile floors and cracking vinyl seats. I glancedaround before heading to the wooden counter with a few stools in front of it, the kind that spun in circles and invariably wobbled. The few, scattered patrons were mostly older, somemucholder, and the room fell silent when we walked in, except for the scrape of silverware on plates and the clatter of a tray in the kitchen.
The lady at the diner counter was about as old as Jake’s parents, her short white hair kept in tight curls, held back with a hairnet. “What can I get started for you fellas?” she asked, her Appalachian accent shining through. She placed coffee cups in front of two of the stools and began pouring from a full pot. “Coffee’s fresh.”
I gave her a warm smile and nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. We’re—”
Jake stopped me with a hand on my arm. “We’d love some pancakes, if you’re still serving breakfast.”
“Breakfast all day. I’ll go tell Jimmy. Want anything with your pancakes?”
“Sausage links?”
The woman turned her gaze to me. “How about you, son?”
“I—uh—bacon?” I stuttered. I hadn’t expected to eat, just to get info and go, but if we were going to have breakfast, I wasn’t going to complain.
“Got you covered.” With that, she disappeared into the kitchen.
When she left, I turned to Jake and dropped my voice to a whisper. “We’re not here for food.”
He shrugged and sipped his coffee before answering. “We can’t just dive in and ask her. Trust me.”
I took a resigned sigh and sipped my own scalding cup of coffee. Not only did it burn my tongue, it was bitter, desperately needing cream and sugar. I looked around and grabbed thecondiment caddy to doctor up my drink before Jake could stop me from doing that, too.
When the lady returned, she looked us up and down. “Y’all aren’t from around here.”
Jake shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m Jake, this is Max. We’re from Port Grandlin.”
She nodded. “I’m Mabel. What brings y’all this way?”
Jake glanced at me and nodded. “We’re looking for some information, actually. Max?”
“Yeah, I…” I cleared my throat and pulled a photo out of the folder very carefully. “We’re looking for the family of this man. Nathan Barnes. Do you know where we could find them?”
Mabel raised her eyes. “Nathan Barnes? I haven’t heard that name in an age. Anyway, the Barnes’ family farm is up that-a-way a ways, maybe two miles up the road. But they’re not home.”
“No?” I asked, dying to ask how she could possibly know that.
“Not this morning. Lydia takes her family to the Unitarian church down in Spring Hollow every Sunday without fail.” Mabel dropped her voice to a low murmur. “Those churches around here are a little too closed-minded for her liking.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall behind her. “She’ll be bringing those boys through here any time, I suppose.”
From the kitchen, a bell dinged, and Mabel nodded at us. “That’ll be your pancakes. Be right back.” She ducked into the kitchen again and returned a quick moment later with plates in both hands before putting them in front of us. “How’s that look?”
“It looks perfect, Miss Mabel.” Jake gave her a smile I didn’t usually see on him, bright and genuine, crinkling the corners of his eyes. I loved that smile.
She laughed and shook her head. “I haven’t been a Miss in a long time, but thank you, young man. Now, what’s got you looking for the Barnes family? I reckon you know Nathan’s beengone a long time now. Thinking he passed near on forty years ago now.”
I swallowed the bite of pancake I was chewing and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We have something that belonged to him. We were hoping to meet with the family and see if they wanted it.”
Mabel nodded thoughtfully but before she could say anything, an older man ambled up to the counter. “You heading out, Hank?”
He smiled and spoke, his voice dry and crackly with age. “You know it, Mabel. What do I owe you?”
