‘For four bucks?’ he asked, then laughed.
That laugh was golden, Betsey thought.
What the hell is with you, woman? Smitten much?
‘Bargain, right? Especially since it’s so big some of the old-timers get a to-go box and have the rest for dinner later.’
He wrinkled his nose and her stomach did that weird electric boogaloo again. ‘Leftover eggs?’
She shrugged and caught his gaze directed right at the three pearly buttons on the bodice of her hideous ensemble. Her cheeks coloured and her heart did a little rhumba to go with the dance her stomach was doing.
‘I think they stick with leftover meat and hash browns. The eggs and toast get consumed at breakfast.’
She rubbed her forehead. Why was she running her mouth to this poor guy?
He didn’t seem to mind, though. ‘And the fruit?’ He smiled at her and she could tell he was now studying her the way she’d been studying him. With interest. Her skin suddenly felt too tight.
‘I’m pretty sure the fruit gets taken home and then thrown out anyway. Poor fruit. But what can you do? It seems to be the fate of diner fruit. Warm orange smiles and wrinkled grapes. It’s sad.’
He chuckled again and closed the menu. ‘You sold me. I’ll take the number one. And skip the fruit.’
She shook her head and tsked at him. ‘Oh, mister, we can’t skip the fruit. That might bring about the apocalypse.’
He nodded. ‘I understand.’
She hurried off to place his order, studiously ignoring the fact that her knees felt like they might buckle and dump her on her ass.
‘He’s a cutie,’ Mrs Kline whispered-shouted as Betsey passed. Betsey cringed. Her chest flushed with heat when she heard him laugh again.
You didn’t say it, she reminded herself. Mrs Kline said it.
‘I need a number one,’ she said to Tony. Then, as an afterthought, ‘Extra fruit.’ This time Betsey was the one to laugh.
Archie watched her go. She had quite the ass, he thought, as he kept his eyes pinned on her curvy form. Then he felt bad for thinking it. He had no right to even be noticing women right now. His life – the love part and otherwise – had been a trainwreck lately. To notice her might put a curse on her.
‘The curse of Archie Rader,’ he said to himself softly.
‘Who?’ The old woman had a highly complicated bun that appeared to be long braids wound atop her head. Her hair was the colour of fresh snow.
‘What?’
‘Who were you talking to?’ she said.
‘Myself.’ He had to smile at her. She was so obviously nosy and unapologetic about it.
‘And you are?’
He stuck out his hand. ‘Archie Rader.’
‘Madeline Kline.’ She shook with a good amount of strength for a woman he was guessing to be roughly seventy. ‘That was Betsey Smith you were just ogling, by the way.’
‘I wouldn’t call it ogling,’ he said, lying.
‘Really? At eighty-one I’d definitely call it ogling. I’ve seen quite a few ogles in my life.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘What are you doing here in Deep Creek Adjacent?’
‘Pardon?’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Eating. But I meant the Deep Creek Adjacent thing?’
‘Oh, we’re not the actual lake. And not ritzy enough for some of the lake folks to acknowledge us. Inside joke, we’re Deep Creek Adjacent. Of if you’re lazy like a lot of the locals, DCA.’
‘Oh. I see. I’m just passing through. I’m starving and the guy up at the last gas station said to come here to eat.’
‘Ah, that’s Gary. Gary sends everyone here because the owner is his cousin. I swear he gets a kickback.’
‘That’s fascinating, Mrs Kline,’ Betsey said. She set his coffee and orange juice down and cocked a thumb back towards the counter. ‘Go back to your seat.’
‘But Betsey, I was just getting to know Arch–’
‘Mrs Kline, we talked about this.’
The old woman sighed. ‘Fine, fine. I’m going.’
‘Saved by the Betsey,’ he said, studying her warm brown eyes. Her hair was the colour of light coffee with streaks of golden honey. It was a strange colour set off by her dark eyes. ‘Thanks.’
‘No problem. She’d make you unhinge your jaw so she could count your teeth if you let her get away with it.’
He doctored his coffee while she stood there. Then he asked. ‘Any cheap accommodations around here?’
‘Some. Up by the main road. Pay-by-the-night places. But they’re a little…’ She shrugged. ‘Is seedy a word we still use?’
‘We do.’
‘Good, because it is.’ She held out her hand. ‘Betsey Smith.’
‘So I heard. I’m Rader.’
‘That’s not what I heard.’
He put his head down and shook it. ‘Archie Rader, but I go by Rader when I can. I try to anyway.’
‘Why? Archie’s nice.’
‘Archie is a comic-book character.’
‘But he’s also a you.’
Archie sipped his coffee. ‘Who was named after a comic-book character.’
‘Oh.’ She shrugged and smiled. The smile amazed him. It took her already warm and friendly face and transformed it to stunning. ‘Back to the seedy motel then.’
‘Good choice. Change of subject.’
‘How long are you looking to stay?’
The bell dinged loudly and a man barked, ‘Order up, Bets!’
Betsey held up a finger. ‘Hold that answer. That’s your food. You look starved.’ Archie couldn’t help but watch her walk away again. There was a lot of swing on that back porch, as his grandad used to say. He smiled. Then he saw Mrs
