And years later, it’d been over coffee and tears that Olivia confessed Stan had asked for a divorce after Jordan’s death. And later, it was where Olivia told her she’d been appointed to the bench. The Pancake Palace was a place of memories for them, good as well as bad.
“The Pancake Palace? You’re really serious?” Will said again. “I can afford a lot better, you know.”
“You asked and that’s my choice.”
Will nodded. “Then off to the Palace we go.”
Her brother insisted on driving and Olivia couldn’t fault his manners. He was the consummate gentleman, opening the passenger door for her and helping her inside. The snow that had fallen earlier dusted the buildings and trees but had melted on the sidewalks and roads, leaving them slick. The slate-gray skies promised more snow, however.
Olivia had been out with her brother plenty of times and he’d never bothered with her car door. She was his sister and manners were reserved for others.
She wondered if Will’s solicitude was linked to her illness. Although he might’ve been reluctant to admit it, Will had been frightened. His caring comforted her, particularly since they’d been at odds during the past few years.
He assisted her out of the car and opened the door to the Pancake Palace. They’d hardly entered the restaurant when Goldie appeared.
“Well, as I live and breathe, it’s Olivia!” Goldie cried. Then she shocked Olivia by throwing both sinewy arms around her. “My goodness, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Merry Christmas, Goldie,” Olivia murmured.
The waitress had to be close to seventy and could only be described as “crusty.” To Olivia’s utter astonishment, Goldie pulled a hankie from her pink uniform pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again,” she said with a sniffle.
“Oh, Goldie…” Olivia had no idea what to say at this uncharacteristic display of affection.
“I just don’t know what Grace and I would’ve done without you,” Goldie said, sniffling even more. She wiped her nose and stuffed the hankie back in her pocket. Reaching for the coffeepot behind the counter, she motioned with her free hand. “Sit anyplace you want.”
“Thank you, Goldie.” Olivia was genuinely touched, since Goldie maintained strict control of who sat where.
Although Goldie had given her free rein, Olivia chose the booth where she’d sat with Grace every Wednesday night until recently. It felt good to slide across the cracked red vinyl cushion again. Olivia resisted the urge to close her eyes and breathe in the scent of this familiar restaurant. The coffee had always been strong and a hint of maple syrup lingered, although it was long past the breakfast hour.
Goldie automatically righted their coffee mugs and filled them. “We’ve got a turkey dinner with all the trimmings if you’re interested,” she announced.
Olivia still struggled with her appetite. “What’s the soup of the day?”
Goldie frowned. “You aren’t having just soup.”
“But…”
“Look at you,” the waitress chastised. “You’re as thin as a flagpole. If you don’t want a big meal, then I suggest chicken pot pie.”
“Sounds good to me,” Will said.
Goldie ignored him. She whipped the pencil from behind her ear and yanked out the pad in her apron pocket. From sheer force of habit, or so Olivia suspected, she licked the lead. “Okay, what’s it gonna be? And make up your mind,’ cause the lunch crowd’s coming in a few minutes and we’re gonna be real busy.”
It was all Olivia could do to hide her amusement. “Okay, I’ll take the chicken pot pie.”
“Good choice.” Goldie made a notation on her pad.
“I’m glad you approve.”
“You’re getting pie a la mode, too.”
“Goldie!”
One hand on her hip, Goldie glared at her. “After all these years, you should know better than to argue with me.” She turned to Will. “And that goes for you, too, young man.”
Will raised his hands in acquiescence as Olivia sputtered. “I stand corrected,” she said, grinning despite her efforts to keep a straight face.
Goldie left to place their order and Will grinned, too. “I guess
“I guess I was,” she agreed. It was nice to know she’d been missed.
Grace would get a real kick out of hearing about this. Olivia would make a point of telling her when they met at the Christmas Eve service later that evening.
Looking out the window, Olivia studied the hand-painted snowman, surrounded by falling snow. The glass next to Will was adorned with a big-eyed reindeer. A small poinsettia sat on every table, and the sights and sounds of Christmas filled the room as “O, Little Town of Bethlehem” played softly in the background.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to join us for Christmas dinner?” Olivia asked her brother.
He shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but you’re not up for company yet.”
