Secrets of Forever
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Marie Ferrarella
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Prologue
While Miss Joan’s Diner—the only restaurant in the small but thriving town of Forever, Texas—was rarely ever empty, the hours between 11:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. were hands down the busiest time of the day. That was usually the time when ranchers and small business owners chose to take a break from their hectic lives and reconnect with friends and neighbors. For the space of an hour or parts thereof, they forgot about deadlines and schedules, or the problems that ranching might generate, and just paused to take a deep breath.
Even so, most of Miss Joan’s patrons were usually in a hurry, wanting to eat and go before their self-indulgences created some sort of a problem that left them answerable to either bosses or, on occasion, to themselves.
Miss Joan, owner of the diner for as long as anyone could remember, presided over all this organized chaos with an iron, blue-veined hand, making sure her customers never had anything to complain about, be it the service or the food.
As usual, her full complement of waitresses—four—was on hand during this time frame. While they knew better than to rush her customers, Miss Joan always made sure they kept everything moving right along.
Noticing one of her regulars staring off into space while cradling a cup of coffee in his rough hands, the sharp-tongued woman said, “You want to nurse what’s in front of you, Jefferson, go to Murphy’s.”
Murphy’s was the local saloon run by three brothers. When they’d taken over the family establishment after their uncle died, the Murphys had struck a deal with Miss Joan. They’d promised not to serve any food other than pretzels, and Miss Joan had promised not to serve any sort of liquor, not even beer. It was an arrangement that served both establishments well.
Today, for some reason, it seemed as if the diner was even busier than usual.
The noise level was higher. Not to mention the diner seemed hotter than usual. Miss Joan could feel perspiration beading along her brow beneath her ginger-colored hair. She paused just for a second to take in a deep breath.
Something felt off to her and she didn’t like it. She just wasn’t herself.
The diner owner had just refilled Jerry Walker’s coffee cup and turned to replace the coffeepot on the burner when she abruptly froze. Her perspiration intensified. Not only that, but her pulse raced in time with her heart. The latter was suddenly beating so hard, her head felt like it was spinning.
Isolated in her own little world, Miss Joan didn’t see one of the waitresses closest to her, Vanessa Aldrich, looking at her, concern etched on her fresh features.
Vanessa had temporarily forgotten about her customer sitting at one of the tables, waiting for his rare steak.
“Miss Joan?” Vanessa whispered. When she received no answer, she repeated the diner owner’s name and laid a hand on the older woman’s bony shoulder.
Miss Joan all but jumped the way a person did at the sound of gunfire. “What?” she snapped, doing her best to try to cover up her reaction to what was the most startling moment of physical weakness she had ever experienced.
“Are you all right?” Vanessa asked her.
Miss Joan had prided herself on being equal to and surviving every curve that life had ever thrown at her, including one very big one. Surviving and managing to go on even stronger than before. It was a well-known fact that Miss Joan was the one who provided strength to many people in Forever. She did so while maintaining an air of wry aloofness.
Despite this façade, in times of need or trouble, Miss Joan was always the first person everyone turned to, the first to provide unspoken moral support, not to mention the occasion roof overhead and/or source of much needed employment. It was an open secret that the woman had a heart of gold even though she pretended to remain distant and disinterested even when interacting with her patrons.
The terrifying wave of weakness disappeared as suddenly and mysteriously as it materialized and, within moments, it was as if that debilitating moment had never even happened.
Almost back to her old self, Miss Joan drew back her thin shoulders and raised her head like a soldier on the verge of battle.
“Of course I’m all right. I’d be even better if my waitresses were moving a little faster instead of stopping to gawk at the woman they work for. Your break time comes after the lunch rush, not in the middle of it,” she reminded Vanessa as she waved her hand at the man sitting to her right. “Now take Rudy here his steak before it turns cold and Angel has to make him a new one.”
“Yes, Miss Joan,” Vanessa murmured, hurrying over to her neglected customer’s table.
“The girl was just concerned, Miss Joan,” Rick Santiago, Forever’s sheriff, pointed out to the woman he had known ever since he had been a boy. “There’s no need to snap her head off.”
Penciled-in deep brown eyebrows drew together over the bridge of Miss Joan’s amazingly perfect nose. “There’s always a need to bite their heads off,” she informed the sheriff with no hesitation. “And I’ll thank you to let me run the girls in my diner the way I see fit. I don’t tell you how to run the town, now do I?”
The sheriff merely smiled because they both knew that was not the case. Miss Joan was the most opinionated person Rick knew. He also owed her a great deal. Everyone in town did. He nodded at his almost empty coffee cup. “How about a refill?”
“As long as you promise to keep your opinion to yourself,” Miss Joan said. She positioned her coffeepot over his cup but held off pouring as she waited for Rick’s response.
He nodded. “For now,” he replied.
Miss Joan sighed. “I suppose that’ll have to be good enough. For now,” she echoed as she finished refilling his cup.
Rick inclined his head in silent agreement. A draw was the best that anyone could hope for when it came to Miss Joan.
