Gabriel raised a brow. With everyone that came and went, how could she possibly know how long he’d lived there? “Um…yes.”

She laughed knowingly. “It’s a small town. We pretty much know everyone who lives here. Take your time and let me know if you have any questions.”

“Thanks.” He guessed if he lived in a town with fewer than two thousand residents, he might get to know everyone after a few years, too. Taking a seat on a bench near the front door, he scanned the menu and found everything from French toast and waffles to sandwiches and comfort foods like pot roast and chicken and dumplings. The foodie in him wanted to sample just about every item, but his saner mind reminded him that at thirty-six he was closer to forty than not and his metabolism didn’t work quite as fast anymore. After serious debate, he settled on fried pork chops, candied yams, macaroni and cheese, and collard greens. He’d save the meal for dinner and wouldn’t have to worry about cooking.

“Would you like cornbread or a biscuit?” the woman asked as she input the order.

“Cornbread, please.”

“Okay. It should be up shortly.”

While waiting, Gabriel went back across the street to the bakery and purchased blueberry and apple-cinnamon muffins. Due to his impromptu food purchase, he elected to head back home instead of carrying the bags through town. He didn’t remember his family ever eating at the restaurant, probably because his grandmother and mother had prepared all the meals during their visits. This time he planned to sample all the food joints to his heart’s content, though Nana had already extended an invitation to dinner for later in the week. He looked forward to doing both.

When Gabriel returned home, he couldn’t resist one taste. He bit into the still warm pork chop and groaned. Samples of the other foods elicited the same reaction. Macaroni and cheese and candied yams were among his most favorite foods, and he’d thought no one could come close to preparing them as well as his mom and grandmother, but Ms. Ida’s wasn’t far off. He had to make a concerted effort to close the container and not devour the entire meal right then.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then went to power up his computer for the meeting.

Darius logged on first. “What’s up, D? Did you manage to survive not being able to go anywhere after seven?”

“I see you’re starting already. It hasn’t been that bad.”

“What hasn’t been that bad?” Brent asked, coming online.

“Firefly Lake.”

“Ah. Oh, yeah, you were supposed to have dinner at the neighbor’s house. How did that go?”

“Food was off the chain. The woman can cook, and, Darius, she’s far from pushing fifty. More like thirties.”