“Where you at?”

“Skelly’s Diner.”

“That far out gonna cost you, ’specially in all this snow.”

“How much?”

“Fifteen bucks.”

“I got it.”

“All-righty. Give me ten minutes. Be out front, so I don’t have to wait.”

The line goes dead before I can reply. Keeping an eye on the cantankerous waitress, I disconnect and quickly dial the number for my soon-to-be landlady, Mrs. Bowman. She’s a little less colorful than the driver and agrees to meet me in half an hour at the property I’ll be renting.

I set the phone on the counter. Dee Dee the waitress is pouring coffee for Suggs. An oversized muffin sits on a saucer next to his mug. He says something and she giggles, slaps at his hand. She pauses at the two coverall-clad men, who’ve finished their meals, and refills their cups. Setting the pot on the burner, she heads my way and picks up the phone. “You done with this?” she asks.

I nod. I’m wondering if I have time for a cup of coffee when the coverall-clad man closest to me lays a five-dollar bill on the counter, rises, and saunters over to me. He’s about thirty. A couple days’ growth of beard. His coveralls are dirty, and he smells of ground steel.

“You need a ride somewhere?” He jabs a thumb at his friend. “My buddy and I just finished our shift and we can drop you somewhere if you want. No charge.”

I look past him at his friend. I feel Suggs watching me, but I don’t look at him. “I already have a ride.”

“You sure? Save you some bucks?” He grins. “It’s cold and snowy out there.”

His friend leans forward and makes eye contact with me. “Warm in our truck.”

“And we got four-wheel drive.”

“Driver’s on the way,” I tell him.

He smiles, but it’s not quite so friendly now. “Suit yourself. I reckon we can take a hint.” He glances at his friend. “You ready?” He grins at the waitress. “See you tomorrow, Dee Dee.”

“Be careful out there.” She goes to where they were sitting, swipes the five off the counter, stuffs it into her pocket, and begins clearing the dishes.

Suggs does a good job of keeping the cranky waitress entertained while I wait for the driver. By the time I see the blue van pull up, she’s laughing. Gathering my box and suitcase, I lug both to the door and walk into my new life.

* * *

I’m midway to the van when I hear the driver’s-side door slam. A woman the size of a ten-year-old with curly gray hair, a red quilted coat, and a hunched back hustles around the front of the vehicle and meets me at the side. She gives me a quick once-over. “You Miller?”

“Yep.”

She wrenches open the sliding side door. “You can put the suitcase on the seat. I got a bad back, can’t lift nothing these days.”

I load both and climb in.