Filling up his coffee cup, she set the full carafe on the table between them, next to the ashtray with five butts from Kathy’s smokes. “Thank you,” Floyd said. Holding the mug to his lips, he blew just enough to cool down to the top of his coffee.

Kathy slid back into the booth, flipping open the box of cigarettes and lighting it. The way she held the smoke and her lighter reminded him of Janice, but he didn’t mention it to her. Exhaling smoke, Kathy said, “Well. That was a lot.” She took another drag, sitting sideways in the booth, leaning against the window overlooking the gravel parking lot. “You ready for the rest?” She pointed at Floyd with her cigarette.

Floyd nodded, not really sure he wanted to hear the rest. One of his friends, not exactly close friends but friends nevertheless, was dead. If she had more bad news, Floyd wouldn’t be surprised.

“Janice gave me the diner,” Kathy said, exhaling the blue smoke hanging over the booth.

“Gave it to you?” Floyd asked. “Why? That don’t make no sense. No sense at all.”

Kathy nodded. “Yeah. I agree. It makes no sense to me, either. But she did, all legal-like.” She took another drag and exhaled, coughing. “She made it legal, let me sign name, and even gave me some time to think it over ‘fore I did.”

“How long she give you?” Floyd asked. Janice wasn’t the kind of person to give someone a third or fourth chance. Once. Then twice. Do it again three times? Then you were done. Janice didn’t have much patience, especially regarding business. Her ex-husband had less than a few hours to hand over the keys and sign away his ownership rights and privileges. Janice didn’t believe in futzing around.

“All the time in the world. But I decided right then and there.” She pantomimed her signing the paperwork. “All done. It was mines. All of it. The gravel parking lot. The grill. The paperwork,” she cringed at the words, sucking hard on the Camel light. Exhaling, she continued, “The barstools. Coffee makers. The food in the walk-ins. The walk-ins. All of it. Janice was gonna go on a cruise.”

“The one she kept talking about for all those years?” Floyd asked. Kathy couldn’t figure it out. It was as if Floyd was genuinely interested in what Kathy was saying. Cookie came out of the kitchen. “Hey there, boss lady,” he waved at Kathy and then Floyd. “How you doin’, Floyd?” Floyd nodded at him. “I’m gonna start sweeping and mopping in the back unless you gots somethin’ else you want me to do?”

“You want anything, Floyd?” Kathy pointed at him with a yellowish finger, still holding her half-smoked cigarette. “Besides coffee, I mean.”

“A couple of pancakes, hash browns, and two eggs, over-easy,” Floyd smiled, winking at Cookie, shooting Kathy a finger gun.

“You old coot,” Kathy shook her head, waving Cookie back to the kitchen. “Get it goin’, Cookie.”

Cookie saluted Kathy. “Yes, Ms. Kathy. Get right on it.”

“Glad to know she got the cruise she worked so hard for,” Floyd said.

Kathy sighed. “Yeah. She didn’t, though.”

This time, it was Floyd who looked upset. “What? What do you mean, Kathy?” He sat up, leaning over the table. “She’s dead too?”

Kathy did her best not to look at Floyd, knowing the second she did, she would start crying again. That was why she didn’t want to talk to him about it in the first place. “Um, yeah. She died before she got in the car to go to Sioux City.”

Floyd wanted to ask but saw Kathy was struggling to keep it together. She worked for the woman for years, let her basically give her the diner, and then, before she took her first plane flight, died in her own driveway. She didn’t tell Floyd the details. “She had a stroke before she finished loading the car.”

“Oh my,” Floyd said, the blood running from his face, tears slowly seeping from his eyes. Kathy scrunched her face, scrubbing the palms of her hands into her eyes. It worked to keep from crying, but it didn’t keep the shivers away.

The two of them sat in silence, sipping their coffee, Kathy smoking three cigarettes down to the butt before either of them said another word. Cookie brought out Floyd’s food, neither of them saying a word to each other or Cookie. The cook knew better than to interrupt their time and set the hot food on Floyd’s side of the table with a small container of maple syrup. Cookie heard enough of their conversation to know the EPA was still in town. Walking back to the kitchen, after emptying Kathy’s ashtray and bringing her a clean one, he started sweeping, then stopped. In the kitchen, a phone was hanging on the back wall, closest to the emergency exit, doubling as a service entrance.

Once he heard Floyd’s knife scraping the plate, he quietly walked over to the phone. He didn’t think about it; he just dialed the number burned in his memory. Cookie had been dialing the Portland, Oregon number for weeks, thankful that Kathy didn’t scrutinize the bills like Janice did. He explained to Janice that he was calling his sister, but only for a few minutes, and whatever charges Cookie incurred, he’d pay for – no questions asked. Janice agreed. Kathy didn’t know and probably wouldn’t have cared. But he did his best not to talk for too long.