Chapter Three

 

 

IVY

 

The City of Bells Pass was hopping for a Monday morning. With our population sitting at a hair under four thousand residents, we sit squarely in the definition of a city via population standards, but we all carry a small-town mentality. We’re proud Bells and always ready to lend a hand to anyone in need. The city has grown over the past years to include a smaller village and several outlying areas now considered part of the Bells Pass School District. I love the fact I can walk down Main Street, coffee in hand, and know most of the people I pass. I also love all the small mom and pop shops whose owners work hard day in and day out to keep us going. I would hate to be forced to shop at big box stores where no one cares whether I’ve been sick, or ready to celebrate a milestone in my life. I’m a small-town girl who lucked out being born into a city of small town folks.

I sipped my brown bear honey pot latte I picked up at Crystal’s Coffee Bar as I walked toward the lawyer’s office. I had the envelope with the contract from Miss Bevvywetter in my shoulder bag, and it felt like it was burning a hole straight through it. Since she currently resided in a facility where she didn’t have all her faculties, I didn’t want to get too excited about the possibility of taking over the diner until I knew if the transaction would be legal. I know Shep was enthusiastic and passionate Friday night about the opportunity, but I’m a bit more skeptical. Since the guy who brought the envelope was clearly from a big city firm, I wanted my own lawyer to read the language and advise me on how to proceed.

“Heya, Ivy,” Mrs. Beesweasel waved from where she was setting out buckets of potatoes and onions by the feed store. “I hear good news came your way!”

I crossed the street to speak without yelling. “What do you mean?” I asked, my what the heck is going on meter going off.

“Rumor has it Miss Bevvywetter is leaving you the diner,” she said matter-of-factly.

I was taken aback and stuttered around for something to say. “Who…what rumor?” I asked, my voice shaking. I didn’t want anyone to know yet. Did Shep tell someone? I asked him not to.

She patted my shoulder. “You know nothing goes unnoticed around here, darling. The big city lawyer rolled down the street in his big city SUV with the name of his law firm right on the side of it. It didn’t take but a little bit of figuring from there. Especially once Mr. Merriweather saw him go into the diner and hand you an envelope.”

I smiled, sipping my coffee. “Good to see the rumor mill is active and accurate as ever,” I said, winking. I waved and crossed the street again, deciding it was wise to hurry along to the office and hide, before everyone wanted to talk about how I was taking over the diner. I didn’t know if I was taking over the diner, though I sure was tempted.

I’ve worked at the Nightingale Diner since I was old enough to carry a tray and never once considered finding a new job, even when Miss Bevvywetter and I saw things differently. She’s an old spinster who used to work every day at the diner making pies and cookies nonstop for the patrons. The last five years she switched to part-time and after her stroke, the job of pies and cookies fell to me when I wasn’t waitressing. I didn’t mind. I thoroughly enjoyed my time baking far more than waitressing. If I took over the diner I could probably stop waitressing altogether if I wanted to. The diner was sitting in the same spot long before me or Miss Bevvywetter worked there. It opened in 1945 after the Second World War when several nurses came back to Bells Pass no longer interested in working at the hospital. They opened Nightingale Diner and since then it has gone through multiple makeovers and upgrades, but no one could ever erase the aura the diner carries. Homecooked food, laughter, family-style dinners, dates, heartbreak, happiness, and celebrations were at the forefront of its aura. Most of Bells Pass High School has walked through the doors either as workers or guests. Back in the day they used to hold sock hops there once a month. I figured the only place to hop was down the center aisle, but it never seemed to deter anyone. There are pictures on the wall to prove it.

The question I’d asked myself since I’d taken possession of the envelope Friday was important. What would I do, as the owner of the Nightingale Diner, to further its aura and keep it thriving. I had ideas, let’s face it, we’re in the twenty-first century now and there were things I could do to bring the diner into the present and future by simply installing a credit card machine. I would draw the line at wi-fi though. I enjoyed hearing the diner filled with laughter, chatter, and little kids excited about their chocolate chip pancakes. I couldn’t work in a place where every patron had their heads in a phone during the whole meal. Don’t get me wrong, I love the ability to sign on and be anywhere in the world from a device in my hand, but I don’t want to do it during dinner.

I could feel the mealy bugs in my belly start to squirm as I approached the lawyer’s office. Taking over the city’s only home-style diner was a big deal. I wasn’t sure I could do it justice, but I wanted to try. First, I had to make sure the contract had both mine and Miss Bevvywetter’s interests at heart. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open to Wipple, Utley, and Burleson, the only law firm in Bells Pass. My lawyer was Lance Burleson, the youngest partner in the firm, and a kid I went to high school with. His uncle helped me over the hump when my mom died and I had no idea how to navigate the legal pitfalls of the situation. When he retired, I promised Lance I’d be loyal to him. I called as soon as I got the contract and he promised to see me this morning.

“Hi, Jenny,” I said when I stopped at the receptionist’s desk. “I’m here to see Lance.”

She picked up a folder and scooted around the desk. “Of course, Ivy. He’s waiting for you. I can’t believe Miss Bedwetter left you the diner!” she said in hushed excitement. “You must be dazed and thrilled.”

I nodded. “Definitely both of those things. Mostly, I’m curious and trepidatious. I want to make sure it’s all on the up and up before I sign anything.”

She walked me toward Lance’s office. “Don’t blame you there. It did come out of the blue, after all. I’m pleased as punch for you. You deserve it,” she gushed, squeezing my shoulder before she knocked on the office door. Apparently at Wipple, Utley, and Burleson they announce clients the old-fashioned way. We heard a muffled ‘come in’ and she held the door for me while I crossed to his desk. He stood and scurried around the desk to hug me.

“You could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard you were getting the diner, Ivy,” he said, taking the folder from Jenny. She left and the door clicked behind her, leaving us alone to convene over the contract.

I held my purse on my lap and sat on the edge of the seat, nerves getting the better of me. “You weren’t the only one. I wasn’t expecting a lawyer to walk through the door on a Friday afternoon and hand me the diner either.”

“Do you have the paperwork?” he asked, waiting patiently.

I drew it from the bag and handed it over, waiting while he read the document and the contract before lying it on his desk. “This appears in order, Ivy.”

I cleared my throat. “I don’t doubt it’s legally proper, Lance. I’m more worried about opposition to the transfer and who it benefits.”

He cocked his head to the left. “Opposition to the transfer? Miss Bevvywetter was an old spinster with no family, Ivy.”

“None? There won’t be any nieces or nephews, maybe a long-lost cousin, who shows up and wants the diner?”

He held up the contract. “Not if you sign this. It has safeguards in it and was written and signed by Lucille long before her stroke. She knew the diner would have to go to someone upon her death. The someone she chose, is you.”

I took a deep breath through my nose to calm my stomach. This might just be on the up and up. “What about the legal language in the contract? It doesn’t say anything about what I have to pay a month to own it, which is why it feels sketchy.”

He folded his hands on the desk and leaned over on them. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” I asked confused.

“Ivy, there’s no payment to take possession of the diner. When the nurses founded the diner they were all older, single nurses. None of them ever married or had children. They decided the best way to keep the diner open, and avoid a large corporation buying it or tearing it down, was when they were ready to retire, to gift it to another single, childless worker with the understanding they would then gift it forward again. They named the diner after Florence Nightingale for a reason. She trained countless nurses for no charge and was a shining light in the world back in the 1800s. Lucille didn’t pay a dime to buy the diner, neither did any of the owners before her. Their responsibility was to keep the diner open, profitable, and add their own touch to the history of it. The house and the diner are the owner’s responsibility to maintain, but there is no monthly payment to a bank.”

I sat in the chair completely dumbfounded by what he told me. “How come I never knew any of this?” I whispered, leaning forward. “Why didn’t Lucille ever tell me?”

“It’s an unspoken legacy, Ivy.”

“Then how do you know?”

“We’ve been Lucille’s lawyers since she took possession of the diner. We’re fully aware of the situation and how it works. Lucille went out of town to have the contract drawn up for who she planned to leave it to. Even we didn’t know. She used the same firm every previous owner before her has. She was looking out for the diner and for the new owner, since she knew you used our firm.”

I had to shake my head a bit to clear it. “Lance, this is all so out there,” I said, touching my temples. “I can hardly think.”

He laughed and leaned back in his chair, his hands folded on his belly. “It’s a lot to absorb, I’ll give you that. Do you want the diner, Ivy?”

My head bobbed immediately, resembling a bobblehead in a car window. “Yes, I do, but I don’t plan to be an old spinster, Lance. I want to get married and have children. I’ll still continue to work at the diner, but if a spinster is what she wants then I’m not the person to take over the diner. There’s no language in the contract about giving it to anyone. I’ve read it thoroughly multiple times.”

He nodded and grinned, his boyish features still there as he approached thirty. “Lucille knew you would go on to marry and have children, which in her opinion is just another way to continue the legacy of the diner. When your mother died, Lucille gave you a job because she saw in you the character of someone worthy to continue the legacy. You stepped up, did the job, stayed late, multitasked, didn’t complain, and worked hard to get your degree while you worked full-time. She has no qualms you’ll keep the diner a successful business in Bells Pass, even when you have children. You’ll teach them the same values, give them a job, and maybe someday, you’ll give one of them the diner. She told me as much. The only stipulation, which you see at the bottom, is you cannot profit from the sale of the diner. You must contact the law firm before you do anything in regards to the diner changing hands.”

He pointed at the name at the bottom of the contract and my brow furrowed. “I read that, and so did Shep, but we thought it was the law firm of the guy who dropped it off. Like I was supposed to call him with questions before I signed. I called you because I wanted my own lawyer to look at it.”

He shook his head a touch. “No, this part of the contract is the language telling you, without outright telling you, about the Nightingale legacy. I’m giving it to you straight because I’m your lawyer and it’s what you’re paying me to do. If you sign this contract you have a job, a business, and a legacy, for life. As long as you put your heart and soul into taking care of your customers, which you already do, and keep a keen business eye to the trends and food of the future, you’ll have a successful income for years to come. From what I hear the house needs a bit of work, but nothing you can’t do a little at a time. Some plumbing issues, which I would bet Shep could do, and a new roof down the road. Since there’s no rent or mortgage to pay, it shouldn’t take long to save the money for the repairs. Lucille’s items are being cleared out as we speak and the home will be move in ready once the cleaners leave.”

I leaned forward again, my voice no louder than a whisper. “Lance, is this really happening?”

He nodded, a grin pulling his lips up and his eyes sparkling. “It’s really happening, Ivy. You impressed Lucille, and she may never have showed it, but she knew you were the next Florence of the Nightingale Diner.”

 

 

I lifted my fist and knocked on the metal door. It opened to the street and I always wondered why he kept living here. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz, but then again, it was cheap. An efficiency room at Bells Pass Motel was under three hundred a month, so for a single guy, it stretched the budget on a meager salary. I waited patiently while I heard him yell out he’d be right there. I would bet anything he was shirtless working out with his weights again.

The door opened and Shep stood in front of me, his hair mussed and his shirt askew. His face was ruddy and his forehead glistened with sweat.

“Ivy,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“I don’t know why,” I answered. “We both had a big day. I sort of thought you might come over to talk about it.”

He shrugged and stepped aside, letting me in. “Let me shower quick and we’ll go to your place and talk. You know how I hate you being in this place. It’s not for ladies. Is that another pie?” He leaned down and inhaled deeply. “Mmmmm, sour cherry, I’ll be right back.”

He jogged to the bathroom and I sat on the bed, resting the pie in my lap. I guess we were going back to my place. I had an idea, but I wouldn’t tell him about it yet. When he strode out of the bathroom a few minutes later he was shirtless, his slim, but muscular, chest glistening with the hint of water left from his shower. The band of his boxer briefs sat higher than his jeans and it gave him the look of a model ready to shoot a commercial for BVDs. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his body and for the first time, took notice of how much he excited the woman in me. I wanted to run my hands over his muscles and see how he felt under my hands. What is wrong with you? I scolded myself. This is Shepard. He’s been your friend for twenty years. Stop lusting after him for the good Lord’s sake.

“You’re going to crush the pie,” he said and I jumped, not realizing he was dressed and standing in front of me.

I looked down and my hands were grasping the edges tightly, the crust crumbling under my thumbs. I relaxed and he took the pie from me, his eyes holding concern, and something else I couldn’t decipher.

“Are you okay, Ivy?” he asked in the whisper he’s used since we were kids.

“Just a little overwhelmed,” I admitted, my eyes downcast to the floor. He set the pie down and took my hand, helping me to stand and then right into his arms. He hugged me with his strong arms wrapped around my back, comforting and safe. If I wanted to, I could stay there all night. The thought disturbed me and excited me at the same time. Why was this happening now after I’d buried my feelings toward him for years? Maybe it was the stress from the last few months. First finding Lucille in such dire straits, and then having to jump in and be Lucille at the diner. I’ve been running on empty for a few weeks now. I had better build my wall back up around the part of my heart that holds my feelings for Shep. Clearly, it’s crumbling. 

“Let’s go have some pie and talk,” he whispered, rubbing his nose against mine like we’ve done since childhood. “You look like you need it.”

I dropped my arms and the hug ended, but not the feelings spiraling through me at breakneck speed. “My car is out front.”

He grabbed his wallet, keys, jacket, and finally the pie. “I should drive, then you don’t have to bring me home.”

“True. I do have to be at work early tomorrow. Follow me though, there’s a detour to my apartment now.” It was a lie, but I didn’t want him to go to my apartment while I went to the house.

“I was by there on my way home, there was no detour,” he said suspiciously.

“Some sewer problem,” I said immediately. “I know a different way.”

He rolled his eyes. “If there were sewer problems, they would have called me. What are you hiding?”

Crap. I’m no good at lying. “It’s a surprise, okay? Would you just follow me?”

He shrugged and opened the door for me. “Okay, lead on then.”

I let him keep the pie and I angled into my old Chevy Malibu. It may be old, rusted out, and ugly, but it ran like a champ and had low miles. It never gave me any problems and until it did, or it fell apart, I wouldn’t be getting rid of it. Shep drove an old truck he’d inherited when his dad died three years back. He has spent time and money on the beast and now has it running in tip top shape, with a new paint job and pinstripes to match. It was one of the things I loved about him; he always took advantage of situations most would pass on. He wasn’t afraid of hard work or getting his hands dirty when he knew it would benefit his future.

I waved as I drove out of the parking lot and he fell into place behind me, his arm resting on the wheel of the truck, and a smile on his face. I forced my eyes to face front and not glance in the rearview mirror. I had approximately five minutes to get myself under control before I did something to screw up a twenty-year friendship I couldn’t live without.