and bacon before him. His shiny toupee never moved. Beside him was James, Ada’s cousin. He flipped a pancake and shouted, “You’re late!” Ellie stuck out her tongue and brushed past him.
Aunt Amanda greeted them from the sinks. “Sorry to hear about your barn.”
Ada thanked her. Of all the people who worked here, next to Ellie, Ada felt closest to Aunt Amanda Wingert. She stopped washing dishes, wiped her hands, and touched Ada’s arm. Ellie disappeared out the swinging door.
“Maybe we can talk during break,” Aunt Amanda said, white curls framing her wide forehead, hair perfect even in this steamy washroom.
Ada nodded and hurried away, not wanting to cry again.
Ada checked the coffee machine, wiped down the counter, and looked over the tubs of ice cream. In the dining room, Ellie and the other waitresses worked the breakfast crowd, taking orders, flirting, making sure everyone was happy. Ada picked up the coffeepots and made the rounds. When she finished, she went to wait on a young couple at the ice cream counter. They each wanted vanilla. “A breakfast dessert,” the man said. Ada bent into the freezer, filled two cones, and handed them to the couple.
The young man squinted as he held up his cone. “This it?” He had a heavy Philly accent. “This all we get?”
“Yes, sir. That’s one scoop, according to Mr. Johnson.”
“Hey, my bride and I are on our honeymoon. How ’bout giving us a little extra?”
“Sorry, but I can’t,” Ada said. “I might lose my job.” She took his money and handed him his change. He didn’t leave a tip.
Ada closed the freezer and cleaned the tiny scoop. She moved to one of the windows to clean the glass. To the west sat the service station with the high mountain behind. The Esso boys in their red caps slouched against pumps, their faces bright in the morning sun. When two cars pulled in, they hustled to check oil, clean windows, fill up the gas. The men yelled and laughed, but Ada couldn’t hear their words. She knew a few of them: Bishop, a neighbor, and Woody, one of Ellie’s cousins. But most were strangers, many from the other side of the mountain.
Ada moved to the double doors and wiped the glass. To the south, across the four lanes, she gazed at Hopewell, a mile away. She found the steeple, and next to the church, she spotted Math-na’s store. Uncle Joe’s farm sat closer, right on the other side of the pike, and two miles away, Ada picked out Uncle Mark and Aunt Rebecca’s farm, the white silo shiny on Hoover’s Ridge.
But Ada couldn’t see her own home. Even though their farm bordered the pike, a small hill separated it from the busy road. She imagined her mother sitting on the porch, her father finishing the milking. In her mind, she saw the long rows of trees in the orchard, the blueberry bushes, and the pond below the house. At the back of the barn, she walked up the earthen ramp to the haymow only to find empty sky and a pile of ashes.
The door opened, and Ada greeted a truck driver. Often she played hostess, greeting so many strangers. Some nodded and said hello. Most just ignored her and headed to the restrooms. Their differences still amazed her—an Italian woman with a beehive hairdo might come right before an Indian family, their skin a rich brown. “Those red-dot Indians never eat ice cream,” Mabel always complained. But to Ada the Indians had the warmest smiles.
The accents surprised her. Just last week, an old man from Philadelphia, only 150 miles away, got mad because she couldn’t understand him. “You jus’ get off the mountain, or somethin’?” he asked. He walked away, no ice cream in hand.
Ada liked to listen . . . to young men from Ireland, families from Boston, Negroes from Baltimore. Once a family of Negroes strolled into HoJo’s wearing colorful robes. “Well, look at them,” James muttered, “still wearing their pj’s.” Ada hushed him and later learned from Freddie that the family was from Africa. “And those were their Sunday-go-to-church clothes.” Freddie could talk with anyone. So could Aunt Amanda.
Ada checked the coffee machine, threw out the old grounds, and rinsed the strainer. She filled it with new coffee and gave the machine a good luck tap to keep it going.
Her first week here Aunt Amanda had taught her the particulars. “I guess I’ll be training you,” she said after Ellie introduced them. “Ellie will be too busy making eyes at those truckers and raking in the tips. She’ll have to give you some lessons on her secrets.”
“Oh, Aunt Amanda, I learned everything I know about this place from you,” Ellie said. “And you still get some nice tips, too.”
“Humph.” Aunt Amanda waved her hand.
“Aunt Amanda can do every job here,” Ellie told Ada. “And when she has to, she fills in for the managers. If you really want to know about something, ask her.”
Aunt Amanda ignored Ellie. She turned to Ada. “You go get checked in with Mabel, and then I’ll get you started on the fountain.”
That first day, Ada had to wear a green apron that said “I’m new.” When she stood beside Aunt Amanda behind the ice cream counter, Ada saw she was at least a foot taller, looking down into the woman’s white hair. Still somehow she felt small beside her. Aunt Amanda didn’t make her feel uncomfortable, just the opposite, yet even at twenty years old, Ada felt so young, as if she’d just entered sixth grade all over again.
“Now, this scoop has to be cleaned between every dip,” Aunt Amanda said. “And one scoop equals one scoop. Mr. Johnson is a stingy old crab, and he doesn’t like us being generous with his ice cream, even if he’s already a millionaire.”
Ada grinned. She remembered the times she’d snuck up here with Ellie when they were in high school. They had crossed Uncle Joe’s fields, the turnpike’s fence, and the pike itself, all to get a tiny scoop of pistachio.
Aunt Amanda waited on a customer, showing Ada how to wrap the cone with a napkin and exactly how much ice cream not to put in. She smiled at even the rudest customer.
When the man left, Aunt Amanda said, “You’ll be surprised. Even on bitter cold days, and even at breakfast time, people still like their ice cream.” She rinsed the scoop. “And they always complain about the quantity, or lack thereof. So I just smile and watch them leave. They’ll drive away and forget about this soon enough.” She picked up a rag and wiped the counter. “When you’re not busy, wipe everything till it shines, and check the coffee machine. I just filled it, but later, I’ll give you a lesson on it. OK?”
Ada nodded.
“Any other questions before I head back to my pile of dishes?” Aunt Amanda nudged her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Ada said no and watched the small woman move quickly away.
AFTER the lunch-hour rush, Ada entered the ladies’ room and found Aunt Amanda taking a break at her usual spot. She sat at the far end on a stool next to the wavy-glass window, the window propped open. Aunt Amanda didn’t notice, her head bowed as she read. Her arm rested on the windowsill, and a breeze ruffled the book’s pages. Ada was struck by Aunt Amanda’s calmness, her shoulders even more rounded. She licked her finger to turn a page.
The first time Ada had discovered her here, Aunt Amanda was reading the Bible then, too. She had invited Ada to join her. “On break, I like to read the Psalms or about Moses, and I like to look out on the mountain. I’ve seen the prettiest sunsets from this perch.”
“I
