Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
The sun was fully up now, casting long, pale squares of yellow light across the clean laminate table.
Clara walked over, holding a hot glass pot of coffee in one hand and a thick ceramic mug in the other.
Morning, she said, her voice warm and steady. Would you like some cream with that?
Just black, thank you, Carter said.
She poured the dark coffee into the mug, filling it almost to the brim without spilling a single drop.
The steam carried the deep, rich smell of roasted chicory and fresh ground beans.
Carter took a sip, the heat warming his fingers as he held the ceramic mug.
The coffee tastes exactly the way it used to, he said.
Clara smiled and wiped the edge of the table with her apron.
Henry said you like it strong, she said. He made sure we used the old measure this morning.
He knows how this place is supposed to run, Carter said.
He does, she said. He spent twenty minutes showing me where the extra register tape was kept before we even opened the doors.
