Lee

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“Are you gonna go?” Jackson asked.

I chewed on a nail. “Do you think I should?”

“Seriously. Did you look at the man? Tall, built like a brick wall, and sexy as hell. Those freaking eyes. Did you look at those green eyes of his? And his face. Square jaw, perfectly shaped nose, and full lips. What more could a girl want? And oh, my God. Sexy. Did I say sexy?”

“Yes, you said sexy, dammit. Several times. But …”

“But what?”

“You know.”

“Oh, come on, Lee. If anyone gives a shit about you, he won’t give a damn that you’re missing a foot. One foot doesn’t make an individual. It’s what’s in here”—she slammed a hand to her chest—“and here”—and she aimed an index finger to her temple—“that counts.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just scared. And you know how fragile I am.”

“Fragile, my ass. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Call him. You said you would.”

I needed to divert Jackson’s attention, so I motioned to the computer. “What do you think about these?” I asked, because the truth was I was shaking in my britches.

Jackson walked behind me as I worked on the flyer I planned to distribute around town. Her silence unnerved me.

“Well?” I asked as I glanced at her over my shoulder.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you like about it?” I asked.

“How the cafe stands out among the text.”

“What don’t you like?”

One arm crossed over her chest while the other elbow rested on it. She leaned her chin on the hand that was in the air and thought for a minute. “I don’t think the text is a true representation of the cafe.”

“Got it.” I deleted what I had and redid it, using a different font. “How’s this?”

Watching her, her eyes lifted and brightened. “Perfect.”

I finished it up and loaded it on my thumb drive. “Gotta go. I have occupational therapy today.” This was part of my rehab that was included in what I called my package. “I promised Scuttlebutt he could go with me. I think he’s bored not being in school for the summer. I’ll get these printed ASAP.”

“Awesome. And Lee, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Hey, I’m kind of like Scuttlebutt. I need something to do too. Laters.”

My brother was waiting for me as I pulled into the driveway and he ran out to the car. Occupational therapy was in the next town over, a much larger one than Drummond. We had to drive past the train station and as we did, my brother wanted to know why I was spending so much time there.

“I’m helping Jackson out. I work there now.”

“But you can get a better job than that.”

“Can I tell you a story?” I asked. “Mom told it in the car on the way home from the airport, but you were listening to your music, so I doubt you heard it.”

“Sure.”

I launched into the one about our great-grandfather. I wished I hadn’t been driving. When you told Scuttlebutt an interesting tale, his eyes saucered like the moon. And I knew when I finished I would be peppered with questions.

“Why didn’t he fly?”

“No one did back then. Think about your history, Scutt. Commercial airliners didn’t become popular or affordable for that matter until way after World War II.”

“Oh, yeah. So where was his family? Didn’t anyone care about him?”

“Sure they did. But times were different. His daddy had died, and his mom lived way out in the country and had his younger brothers and sisters to worry about. But here’s the coolest thing about what he did. Since there was no one to meet him, after he fully recovered, he went to that train station every day until he felt the last soldier had come home just so every one of them would have somebody to greet them when they walked off that train.”

Scuttlebutt was super quiet for the longest time, which was very unlike him. Then he started bursting with words that stunned me with their brilliance.

“Lilou, you and Jackson are going about this cafe thing in the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?”

“You gotta tell her to change it.”

“Why?”

“Look at you. Look at Great-Granddaddy.”

I wanted to laugh because he was using the term like we’d known the man intimately, even though we’d never met him.

“Your point?”

“You both had the same things happen to you. You should tie that together and use it for the cafe theme. I think you should change the name of it. The Depot Cafe is too boring. It’s not catchy. No pizazz. Every old train station probably has one. Jackson should change it to I’ll Be Waiting.”

This kid was a genius. “You may have something there, but I have to run it by Jackson because it is her place.”

“Lee, you should see if the newspaper would do an article on you and Great-Granddaddy.”

“Oh, Scutt, that’s a great idea, but I don’t know if they’d be interested in something like that.”

“I can’t think why they wouldn’t.”

We drove on and arrived at the therapy place. My brother was totally invested in this cafe thing and barely paid attention to what I had to do. He nodded and hummed every now and again, but his brain was buzzing. When he didn’t talk, I knew he was doing a lot of thinking, especially since a video game wasn’t anywhere in sight.

We got in the car and were headed home when he asked, “Can we stop at the cafe? To talk to Jackson?”

Dang, this kid was totally into this. “If you want.”

We swung by and the place was empty. She’d closed for the day. It would be great if her business was ready to sustain the dinner hour and she could stop serving breakfast.

Having heard the door open, Jackson greeted us. “Hey!” She grinned when she saw my brother. “How was therapy?”

“Great. Only a few more and I’m out of jail,” I said. “Listen, this kiddo here has something he wants to run by you. He’s not sure if you’ll think it’s worth anything but then again, you never know.”

“What is it?”

And my brother proceeded to tell Jackson of his ideas. I beamed with pride at the way he laid out the entire plan. He didn’t randomly spit out bits and pieces of information but gave her the story, where he was coming from, and why he thought it would boost the cafe up in the eyes of potential customers. He also was very tactful in the way he approached the name change.

“So, it’s not like The Depot Café isn’t really cool, because it is. But maybe if you added something else to it, like I’ll Be Waiting, it might jazz it up some.”

“So what do you think?” I asked.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Scuttlebutt interrupted. “You need press.”

We both looked at him and wanted to chuckle.

“Press?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah. You need the paper to cover this place.”

“Dude, I know you mean well, but how are we gonna get the paper interested in a cafe?” Jackson asked.

Little bro curled his hand, blew on his fingernails, and rubbed them on his chest. “Don’t worry. I got connections.”

“I have connections,” I corrected.

Scuttlebutt looked at me and asked, “You do?”

“No, I was correcting your grammar.”

He looked at the ceiling as though he was begging for intervention. “I’m trying to help you and you’re correcting my grammar.”

“So, who are these connections?” I asked dubiously, moving him off the grammar topic.

“My friend, Charlie Ammons. His dad works at the paper. I’ll ask him about it.”

Jackson pinched her lower lip. “So, I’ll Be Waiting, huh? How about I’ll Be Waiting, and then in smaller letters below it at The Depot Cafe?”

“Yeah, that’s awesome. It has a much better ring than The Depot Cafe. Don’t you think?” little bro asked.

“I have to agree. It doesn’t stand out.”

“I suppose you’re right. Okay, let’s do it. That means we need to get our sign changed,” Jackson said.

“And we need some old-timey pictures of soldiers back in World War II at train stations and then maybe more recent ones. They may be harder to find because eventually, people started flying.”

Scuttlebutt piped in, “And you can also throw in any old picture of people meeting others getting off the train.”

“Good point,” I said. “I’ll start searching online. Oh, and maybe we should do a Grand Re-Opening. Really work this thing to the max, you know? So let’s see how long it will take to get it all in order before we decide on a date.”

Jackson stood there, her hazel eyes turning warm and golden. “How can I thank you two. This is so … well, it’s just great and I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate it. But one thing, I may be in a bit of trouble if it costs too much.”

My gray matter whirled as an idea took shape and manifested. “Look, do you want a business partner?”

She cocked her head and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I have extra money. I can partner with you. Not a fifty-fifty deal because you’re doing the chef work and all, but maybe twenty-five seventy-five. I can help you out now with whatever you need, and we can draw up a contract. This way, you won’t feel so overwhelmed by your debt.”

“You would do that?” she asked.

“I am already emotionally invested in this place. I may as well be financially invested too.”

Jackson held out her hand and said, “I’ll only do it under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You call Rusty and accept his offer for a date tonight.”