It was where I discovered her one night, following dinner, two weeks after the regular season had begun in the Inn. I had gone into Arch’s to buy envelopes to mail a letter to Carolyn. Amy was sitting in a booth with Carter. He saw me and motioned me over.

“Bobo,” he said, “this is Amy Lourie. You’re going to be serving her breakfast in the morning. Amy, this is Bobo Murphy, your waiter and my boss, and if you understand anything he says, you’ll be among the few. He’s from Georgia, way down yonder in Dixieland.”

Amy Lourie flicked a smile to me. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

“Hi,” she said.

I nodded a reply and forced a smile.

“Why are you called Bobo?” she asked.

I blushed. “One of my sisters gave it to me. She couldn’t say brother. She called me Bobo and it just stuck.”

“You’re really our waiter?”

“I—I don’t know.” I looked at Carter.

“You are,” Carter said. “They always sit in the middle dining room.” He moved in the seat of the booth. “Come on, take a load off.”

I sat beside Carter and looked away from Amy Lourie. I was uncomfortable.

“They just got in,” Carter explained. “Amy comes up every year with her folks. They spend the summer.”

“My parents love it here,” Amy said softly.

“You don’t?” Carter asked.

She moved her hand to touch the milk shake in front of her. Her hand and her fingers were as beautiful as her face. She looked around the store, then said, “I like it, but it can get a little boring.” Her eyes covered me. “Have you ever been here?”

“I’ve never been anywhere, until a few weeks ago,” I said.

I could see the flash of delight in her eyes. She said, “You really are, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?” I replied.

“From the South.”

“I told you he was,” Carter interjected. “Come on, Bobo, say ‘y’all’ for Amy.”

I blushed again.

“Leave him alone, Carter,” Amy said. “I love the accent.”

“You better get used to it,” Carter told her. He grinned. “You should see the look on old Mrs. Mendelson’s face when Bobo tries to speak German.”

“Carter, that’s mean,” Amy said. She was still looking at me. “How did you get to be our waiter?”

Carter chuckled. I knew it was a tender matter with him. He had been at the Inn for two years as a busboy, and I had been promoted from dishwasher to waiter in three weeks.

“I’m not sure I know,” I answered.