The café wasn’t much farther. He made a left on Main Street. The delicious aromas wafted through the air and down the street. He found himself smiling as he stepped inside the restaurant. Happy memories flooded his mind. He recalled how his uncle used to bring him there for breakfast before they would catch the ferry for the mainland.

Uncle Gil had been an appliance repairman and it wasn’t beyond him to make early morning trips to the mainland to pick up parts. On those days, his uncle had let Aunt Birdie sleep in while they grabbed breakfast there. Those good-old days seemed so far away now.

When Ethan’s gaze settled on the community bulletin board, curiosity had him stepping forward for a closer look. His gaze lingered over the for-sale ads for cars, trucks, and motorcycles. He kept scanning, finding invitations to the quilting group, a card club, and some other organizations. He didn’t stop to read those. He was surprised at the number of accommodations for rent. He knew in another month they’d all be taken as the tourists flocked to the island.

And then he stumbled across a flyer for Spring Fling. He stepped up closer. He noticed the dates and nearly choked. His aunt failed to mention it took place in a few weeks’ time. He thought he’d just be helping out until Aunt Birdie could take over. But this made it seem as though he’d be doing a lot more than lending a hand. He swallowed hard.

As he considered how this information changed things, he entered the dining room. The walls were painted a beachy blue with ocean murals. The spacious room was filled with small wooden tables made of whitewash wood. And there was a long counter at the back that faced the kitchen. He headed for one of the blue stools.

The café was modestly busy, but it was also the end of March and the middle of the morning. He was certain as it grew closer to lunch, the crowd would pick up. He sat down at the white Formica counter, where he used to sit as a boy and order a chocolate milkshake. He hadn’t had one of those in years. His gaze moved down the counter area until he spotted a milkshake machine. A smile pulled at his lips. He wondered if they served them this early in the day.

He didn’t need to view the menu. He knew what he wanted. A server, dressed in black pants and a white top, with a bouncy blond ponytail and a nametag that read Darla, took his order.

He barely had time to read the headline news on his phone when there was a ding of a bell as the cook shouted, “Order’s up.” And then his eggs and fixings were served up piping hot as was a large mug of coffee, not one of those puny coffee cups that were more like thimbles.

The delicious food made him feel more human. And the hot coffee pumped some energy into his sluggish body. Things were starting to look up—if only they’d stay that way.