Train Trax
an excerpt

Train Trax
Chapter 1

The woman slid the key into the lock, metal scraping on metal. The tumblers inside the lock turned and the door swung open.
Finally, someone bought the place. The diner passed hands every six months or so for years before finally sitting vacant.
The last owner called Handymen and Merry Maids, brought in a realtor, discussed things and fixed them a little. Once again, the converted railway dining car found itself on the market. It sat nestled in a building designed to look like a railway station near the corner of Sprague and Division, the main intersection of Spokane, with a train trestle that passed through the intersection. The dining car held the majority of the seating and the station housed another dining room, a kitchen, storeroom, and bathrooms.
The little blonde gal at the counter was a surprise. Several people had come for a look this time—a business man and his wife, already the owner of two restaurants in Spokane, the four college students—obviously dreaming, the man from up north, who had a successful restaurant in Metaline Falls, but was considering moving to be closer to his college-age daughter.
It had seemed unlikely that the blonde would be enthusiastic enough to follow through, yet here she was, going through her purse at the counter.
She picked up the phone and a puzzle expression flitted across her face as she put the earpiece up to her ear. What did she think? Of course there was a dial tone.
She pressed some buttons and waited.
“Hello, Jackie?”
She paused, playing with the phone cord.
“Grace. Remember, Grace? Your sister? The one you’re buying a café with? Your only sibling?”
The voice on the other end replied.
“Yeah, I’m using the phone here to see how operational it is. How did the caller I.D. work?”
She twisted the cord into an ungodly shape.
“Yeah, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Well, now we know, put a new phone on the shopping list.”
Looking over the mess of the cord, she attempted to wrestle it into straightness.
“Yeah, I’m here taking inventory.”
She walked away from the phone, pulling the handset away from its wall mount. The cord began to straighten.
“No-no, don’t worry.” She sighed. “I brought my laptop. If I’m dyin’ to go shopping I’ll do it on line.”
She returned a step and the cord had instant memory of the tangle.
“Taxi.”
She glanced up at the calendar, as she used her foot against the long cord. Would she ever get it straightened out? Why all this effort on a stupid cord?
“I have another appointment in two weeks.” Her tone of voice was bland. “They’ll do some more tests to see if every cell in my body has enough radiation.”
She paused, allowing her eyes to focus on nothing in particular.
“No, I’m kidding. They may put the next treatment off for three months.”
Grace crossed her fingers, rolled her eyes to the ceiling and mouthed the words, “Please, no more radiation. Please, put it off.”
“Well, did you place the ad?” She rejoined the conversation.
She paused a couple moments, straining to hear the other person over the rumble of the train behind the diner.
“It’s okay, Jackie. I’ll—”
She pursed her lips together as she listened to her brother.
“Okay, I’ll just worry about knives and forks and even smaller things like menus and stock, then... But doesn’t it make sense to have me at the interview? You’re the silent partner, remember? So be quiet. You’re not going to quit your highly coveted engineering job to work in a café, are you?”
The phone cord nearly tripped her, but she caught herself.
“Yeah, I appreciate that, Jackie. Thirty-seven years later, you’re still looking after your little sister.”
She let go of the cord and it was a mess again.
“Okay, I’ll talk at you later. You have the number here now... Bye!”
She listened to the person on the other end for a moment and hung up the phone.

Chapter 2

After countless hours of counting, Grace plopped herself into a booth and put her feet up. She typed numbers and inventory into the laptop nonstop for fifteen minutes before checking her email. Her inbox was empty. She propped her head up with her hand and closed her eyes.
Didn’t she have any friends?
After about an hour, motionless, it seemed she was asleep. She could be resting, or praying, or meditating, or whatever it is that people do these days. It was hard to tell.
The phone rang twice. She jumped out of the booth, nearly spilling her laptop onto the floor. A half of a moment of waiting as she stood revealed she had been sleeping, indeed. She cleared her throat picked up the phone and spoke sweetly, “Train Trax, this is Grace.”
Her eyebrow furrowed.
She repeated herself, “Train Trax Café, this is Grace...Hello?”
She slammed the phone down and pinched between her eyes. A café is no place to sleep.
Surprisingly, the phone rang again.
She picked it up with less ceremony, “Hello?”
She listened to the voice on the other end and the stress seemed to drain out of her face.
“Hi Jackie, did you call a moment ago?”
She paused. “Huh, weird. The phone rang and no one was there.”
She smiled, listening to the voice.
“I got the inventory done; we don’t need much. Oh, and I got a nap in to boot.”
She closed her eyes as she listened, and gave her scalp a good scratch.
“I’m fine...Jackie, I’m fine.”
Her finger traced an old stain on the counter. She wouldn’t ever know it, but it was from a cherished memento from Mrs. Rogers years and years ago. She always placed the coffee pot on the counter in that one spot. Mrs. Rogers was a sweetheart; she always had something kind to say to everyone and even about those who were mean to her.
“Yeah, I’d love...well, have you asked Bethie?”
Her finger stopped on the countertop as she listened.
“What time you think you’ll be here?”
She looked outside at the dark night sky.
“Okay, I’ll watch for you.”
She hung up the phone and sat back down in the booth. Terminating her connection to the internet, she began playing a game of solitaire, glancing out the window occasionally. A train passed behind the café.
Finally, there was a car horn out in the parking lot. It was a gray Camry with its lights on in the darkening afternoon. Grace shut her computer, turned out the light, and locked the door as she left.
She might work out, but it was too soon to tell.

Chapter 3

The very next morning, the familiar key found its way into the lock, and Gracie was back. After popping a few groceries in the fridge—too few for a business, she sat in the same booth with her feet up on the vinyl upholstery, typing away, pondering on the ceiling, and then typing away again. The occasional train behind the café didn’t seem to bother her at all.
Didn’t she have a home to go to?
A noise erupted from her purse like an angry bee. She dug for a moment and pulled it out. She didn’t bother looking at the caller id before answering it.
“Hello?” Her voice was eager.
She leaned her head back against the wall. “Hi, Jackie.” She almost sounded disappointed.
“No, I’m fine. Would you quit asking me that?”
She closed her eyes and sighed, but moved the mouthpiece away from her mouth as she did so.
“I’m at the café. I am making out a draft of the menu. I’ll finalize it when we’ve hired a cook, but since I’ll be cooking too, I thought I’d take a stab at it.”
She grinned and sat up, looking at her laptop.
“Yes, Jack, Daddy’s biscuits and gravy made it on the menu. How can you run a greasy spoon without biscuits and gravy?” Her voice had a false lilt to it.
How could she ever be a great café owner, if she couldn’t be authentic with people?
She closed her eyes and bit her lip, hard.
“Yeah, I’m still here...sorry.”
Her eyes remained closed, but she quit biting her lip.
“I miss him too. He’d be proud of us, Jack. He always said follow your dreams.”
Grace wiped away a stray tear.
“I’m going to call the biscuits and gravy, ‘Jack Sr.’s biscuits and gravy. I think he’d be proud.”
Her eyes popped open. “Jackie! I can’t print that on a menu...You’re right, it’d be more like dad if I printed it—”
She began scrolling on the computer. “‘Dad’s SOS?’ It’s rated PG at least. We could say the first ‘S’ stands for slop.”
She continued scrolling while she listened to him.
“Yeah—No, I’m going to wait to conference with the cook and finalize the menu before I stock food or set an opening date.”
Something outside distracted her attention momentarily.
“Having never worked as a kitchen manager, I don’t expect you to know any of that. Just as you wouldn’t ask me to come to work and build a... what do you do again?”
She scowled and furrowed her brow.
“Hmm...yeah...I understood that...or not...”
She stood up and walked around to the door, locking the deadbolt, and watching something outside. It appeared to be a grizzled old man.
“Okay, get back to work then... Hey, do you and Bethie want to come here for dinner tonight?”
Now she was talking.
“No, I completely understand—No, really, I do! I was married, once...”
Her eyes continued to follow the man outside as he walked around the backside of the building.
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, bye.”
She closed her phone up and slipped it into her pocket.
Keeping an eye on nothing outside, she reseated herself in her booth and continued typing. A train rumbled slowly behind the café.
A couple hours later, a rough draft menu was completed. Gracie got into the fridge and pulled out a container of deli soup out. She poured it into a bowl, and popped it into the microwave.
If this was her idea of cooking, she was a lost cause. This sort of behavior regarding food was scandalous. Certainly, somewhere in the world, Mrs. Rogers was suffering from indigestion, but had no idea as to the cause.
The microwave seemed to revolt, too. It popped and sparked. Grace yelped and opened the door, causing the equipment to quit and black smoke poured out from inside.
Something overcame her, so she bent over with her hands on her knees to steady herself. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she hit a button and put the phone to her ear.
“Jackie! The microwave just blew up!”
She looked even more startled.
“How am I supposed to know when you’re in a meeting? Why’d you answer?”
She stood straight.
“Never mind, I’ll take care of it myself.” She shut the phone and slammed it on the countertop. It rang again, almost instantly.
“Hello.” It sounded more like a statement than a question.
She shifted her weight onto one leg and pinned the phone between her shoulder and ear. The girl had an attitude.
“The dumpster’s not here yet, Jack, and I’m not sure I’d take it clear out there right now anyway.”
With a knee on the bench cushion, she peered out the windows and into the parking lot.
“There was some guy out there earlier; looked like a transient. Did we research this neighborhood?”
She didn’t seem to spot anyone out there now, and stood again.
“Never mind. I’m sorry for interrupting you.”
She walked around the counter to the microwave again. She pulled out the façade that posed as soup.
“No, you and Bethie have plans, remember? I’ll handle it. It’s a microwave, not a kitchen fire.”
She knocked on the countertop. She unplugged the microwave.
“Okay, bye.”
She closed the phone and set it on the island counter behind her. Palming her neck, gliding her forefinger and thumb down her throat toward her collarbone, she scowled at the microwave as she might an intruder.
Sighing with a smirk, she found the crawlspace door and opened it up. Peering into the dark, she smiled and went for the microwave.
Such a small, lithe thing shouldn’t have been capable of carrying an ancient microwave, but she managed it, and managed it well. She set it on the floor in front of the trap door and hopped down into the dark hole. She gripped the microwave, easing it and herself through the opening and into the darkness. After a moment, she reappeared and hopped out, closing the door behind her.
She dusted herself off with a self-satisfied smile, but didn’t stop there. A few springy steps later, she opened the storage room door and pulled out another microwave. Jerry Nichols stashed it there after her husband brought home two new microwaves—one for the café and one for their home. She never could throw anything away, dear lady.
This other microwave wasn’t as light as the previous one and Gracie almost connected it with the wall. The drywall remained undamaged as she shifted her hand to the corner as a protector and preserver of the café. Heroic girl; she might work out here after all. She set it down on the counter, and heaved for breath, leaning on the counter.
The lunch ended up in the garbage and Gracie ended up back in the booth after that.
Why wasn’t she hungry? This was no time to sleep; it was time to eat.
But Gracie didn’t seem to think so. Her blonde head rested on her folded arms as she leaned over the table.
She may have had a home to go to, but it was clear that she belonged here.

Chapter 4

The buzzing of the cell phone on the counter brought Grace’s head off the table. She had been asleep for hours. She rubbed her neck, looking around the room as the noise continued.
It’s on the island counter, Grace.
But she stood, confused. Dazed, she picked up the café phone, but she must have heard the dial tone because she set it down again.
By the time she reached the cell, it quit ringing. She looked at the caller I.D. and sighed.
“Leave a message, leave a message, leave a—” She coached into the air, but cut herself short. “Hi mom, you called?”
She moved back to her favored bench and sat down.
“Sorry, I was asleep.”
She rubbed the back of her neck.
“No, it’s okay, I’m doing better, remember?”
Grace’s head popped back up and she stifled a yawn.
“I finished my last series of radiation treatments one month ago, mom. Remember?”
She waved a hand in the air, appearing frustrated.
“I was probably pretty out of it if you called me then. I didn’t feel—”
Grace's feet rested on the floor, and she sat with her body pointed toward the microwave. The back of her heels rubbed against the seat and she tapped her toes on the floor.
She closed her eyes. “No, mom, I didn’t know you and Dave broke up—”
She puffed her cheeks up as she blew air out a tiny bit at a time.
“So you broke up with him? Then you should be hap—”
She stood and began to pace with lumbering steps. Her feet kicked out wide and her free hand swayed easily, but she went nowhere before she turned to walk the other direction. Her eyes glazed over the floor tiles.
“Well—”
She started to speak, but held the phone into the air instead. The woman on the other end rattled away. Grace pulled the phone back up to her ear, and then pulled it away again.
When the woman stopped for breath, Gracie opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short. “Huh?”
Her eyes moved back and forth as she listened.
“He’s fine. You know—” But she allowed her mother to interrupt her again.
“Mom, Bethie doesn’t have anything against you.”
Grace stopped in her tracks.
“Yes, I brought it up, okay? I get so tired of your harping on Bethie. She’s a good gal, mom—”
She bent over with a knee to the tile.
“Well, if you would just talk to her yourself, you’d see she doesn’t mean any harm. Mom, Jackie’s almost forty. Bethie is young, pretty, the mother of his child, and devoted to him. Why should he try to do better? Is that what you want for your grandson?”
Grace sighed as she fingered a chip in the tile. She would never know that one of the handymen chipped it, years ago, when installing the island counter. He dropped his hammer there, but immediately confessed to the original owner, Frank Wilson. Good old Frank, he was the best. He glued it back into place. It remained that way for years before coming up again during Joe Love’s time.
Frank had a great philosophy—hot food and spunky waitresses. He cared about everyone. He would’ve given you the shirt off his back, if you needed it. He put his heart and soul into the diner.
Joe Love, on the other hand, didn’t glue the chip back down when it came up; he lost it. He was always taking. Taking from the customers by overcharging them for their measly portions, taking from the employees by forcing them into overtime, and then refusing time and a half. Oh, he said they had a choice, but everyone knew if they turned him down, or left before he said they could leave, he would either cut them back on hours, and he would hire someone else, or he’d fire them, and he hire someone else. The veteran kitchen staff, who survived him, secretly called him “Love-less.”
"Loveless" was how Grace seemed to feel. Hands and knees on the floor with her cell phone jammed between her shoulder and ear, she fingered the missing piece as if it were an old wound she could feel.
“Well, it’s no wonder you’re not speaking to him, if that was the last thing you said to him. If I said that, I’d be deathly afraid to talk to him—What? Deathly? Why can’t I say ‘deathly?’”
She looked up from the floor.
“Mom, I’m not going to die. You’d know that if you came to see me.”
Grace sat back on her feet, knees bent, shaking her head. No, mom, I’m not mad at you—”
She threw a hand up in the air.
“Why would you be upset over Dad?”
She rose to her feet again as someone knocked on the window. She glanced over, and scowled, eyebrows furrowed. The old grizzled man that commonly haunted the place had returned. The question was, would Grace lock the dumpster?
“Mom, you two divorced thirty years ago! Are you claiming to be more upset that we are? Is it a contest? Do you really think—?”
The knocking returned and Grace waved them off. “We’re closed,” she mouthed.
“Mother! How could you?”
Her attention shifted again to the chip on the floor.
“An empathetic ear? Mom, we’ve been divorced for years! Did you know he’s remarried and has kids?”
Grace slapped her forehead.
“He doesn’t care, mother; he doesn’t care...”
The emphatic arm motions were back; Grace was very upset.
“No, Mom, he didn’t take good care of me! He got everything in the divorce! The house, the car, the dog, our friends—my health—everything.”
Grace shook her head no at the man outside.
“Yes, I told you, time and again.”
“Do you want me to call the Police?” She yelled at the window, “We’re closed!”
“No, mom, I’m not threatening you. There’s a transient outside.”
“I mean it, I will call.” Gracie moved to the café phone and picked up the receiver, pretending to push the buttons. The man outside moved off, ambling toward Division, and the large paintings of the marmots covering the cement undersides of the train trestle.
“That’s right, move out,” Gracie said into the cell phone, more to herself than to her mother, it seemed.
“Yeah, flip me off—you won’t be flipping me off after you taste my coffee.”
“Yeah, he left.”
She crossed the room and pulled a blind so that it fell SHINK! to the windowsill.
“Oh, I’m at the café.”
She moved to the next window and pulled that blind too.
“Jackie and I went in on a café together.”
She lowered the blind on another window.
“Well, I didn’t get the money from Ted.”
She stopped before she reached the next window.
“Fine, if you must know, Daddy willed me some money.”
She reached over for the cord of the shade, but missed it, turning away from it.
“Mom, must everything be about you? Can’t you just be pleased that he left something for your kids?”
Grace’s jaw dropped.
“I think Daddy would approve! He always supported my dreams. He sent me to culinary school.”
Grace’s eyes rolled to the ceiling.
“Mom—” she chocked out and sniffed.
“Mom—” she said again, wiping a tear away.
“I’m hanging up now, mom.” She blinked hard, eyes welling with tears.
“Good bye, mom.” Her voice sounded strained.
She snapped her cell phone shut and made a piteous sound. She covered her mouth, trying to stifle it, but was unsuccessful.
The tears came long and hard as Grace cried for the loss of her father, and over the coldness of her mother.

Chapter 5
Grace had practically moved into the café. Technically, she leased an apartment in Browne’s Addition, where she received mail—which she always brought to the diner—slept in a bed, and bathed, but breakfast, which was typically half a grapefruit with a muffin, was always at the café.
From there, she would move into the bathroom and apply makeup, take her ponytail out, and style her hair.
This was a far cry from Mrs. Rogers. She always showed up at six in the morning with never a hair out of place. She would work from sunup until the children arrived at diner on school bus. Then they would eat dinner and go home.
After three days of tremendous production, cleaning the café from top to bottom, she didn’t attempt much. She read news on the internet and watched the television sitting on the island counter.
Not a good place to leave a television set, Grace. Isn’t that where the customers eat? The diner had a television set mounted on top of a bookcase for years until ‘Love-less’ hawked it.
Always she watched the same shows at the same time; always she zapped a bowl of soup in Jerry’s old microwave—with it’s occasional grinding sounds; and always Grace would nap during Judge Judy. The trains behind the café hardly attracted Grace’s attention anymore. She was used to them.
One morning, just when things seemed to fall into a familiar rhythm, Grace brought in a newspaper.
She thumbed through the classifieds, as did many an owner before her. She flew to her cell phone.
She had a foot on her favored bench and an elbow on the knee that presented itself.
“Did you see it? Looks good!”
She straightened out her back.
“Nice work, did you write what I said word for word, or what?”
She grinned, wrinkling her nose.
“No, the timing is perfect. I’ve just been getting acquainted with the café.”
She slid into the seat.
“Nothing else. After months of everyday...stress, I’ve needed a few days of nothing.”
She turned the paper so it was oriented toward her.
“You’re being too hard on yourself—but I was wondering...”
She grabbed the remote and turned down the Price is Right.
“When is Bethie going to decorate?”
She pulled the phone away from her ear in a grimace. Jackie’s voice blared throughout the room.
“Well, have her call me, and tell her to bring that nephew of mine.”
Gracie’s face turned to wonder and her mouth moved as though she were looking for an appropriate place to interject.
“Okay—okay, I’ll talk to her soon.”
Grace closed her phone and finished her sentence, “I hope.”
The phone rang again. Grace flipped it open.
“Hello again.”
She shuffled thought the paper, flipping through the pages of a different section.
“Found it. Wow, that looks great. Opening day, October twenty-first. Comin’ up fast. Just over a week and we have yet to hire a cook!”
Grace’s face changed into a complete grimace.
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant, Jackie. Think of it this way, we can put them to work immediately—and not with work I can do myself.”

It was ten minutes later when Grace’s cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
She cocked her head to one side.
“Oh hi, Bethie! Thanks for getting back to me so quickly!”
Grace nodded.
“You know that is a great idea. When—?”
Grace continued to nod.
“Perfect, then why don’t we have dinner here afterward? I’ll cook!”
Finally, a real meal? Or would she microwave soup for them?
“What time will you be here?”

Grace cleaned the diner for dust as she had already scrubbed the place from top to bottom previously. At noon, she called a cab and left. She was only away for about an hour. She returned with bags from Rosaurs.
She stocked the cooler with a gallon each of chocolate and two percent milk, chicken breasts, Swiss and American, and Parmesan cheeses, half and half, butter, and jelly... and more deli soup. The other groceries favored enough to make it to the deli included breadcrumbs, tomato sauce, angel hair pasta, peanut butter, spices, bread, elbow macaroni, squash, tomatoes, olive oil, and canola oil. Ice cream went into the freezer.
Okay, Grace, it’s time to see what you’re made of.
She spent a short time prepping the chicken. She brought her own knives, which was an encouraging sign.
A slice down the center of the chicken breast, stuffed with ham and Swiss, breaded and placed in a pan to go back into the cooler.
She prepped macaroni and cheese casserole next, boiling water, concocting a cheese sauce and popped it into the walk-in with the chicken. Her tastes were definitely strange.
Surprisingly, she chopped the couple of squash in seconds. Her movements were precise and her hand was steady.
After cleaning up, the apron came off as she glanced to the clock on the wall. She turned on the television and took a brief rest for an hour and a half before noise from a minivan in the parking lot disturbed her.
She threw on her coat, grabbed her purse and left for the afternoon.

At four-thirty, the lock accepted a key. After several minutes of jimmying, the door opened, and a tall man with sandy brown hair entered.
He shut the door slowly behind him, watching it click into place. Unlike Grace, he didn’t lock the door behind him.
He walked into the center of the room and turned a slow circle, surveying. Eyeing the television on the island counter, he laughed and pulled out a notepad and a pen.
He looked over the walls as a train passed by, but his eyes didn’t settle on anything specific.
Jotting as he glanced at the television, he stepped across the tile until he spotted the cracked tile with the missing chip. He bent down on one knees and fingered the hole. His eyes were just like Grace’s.
On he continued, going from room to room, taking notes as he went along. He showed no qualms about entering the women’s room and flushing each toilet.
This had better be Jackie, Grace’s brother.
Finally, he dialed his cell phone.
“Hello! Where you guys at?”
He ran his forefinger up and down the wood paneling while gazing outside.
“Well, I’m at the café...”
He scratched his scalp from the base of his neck and worked upwards slowly.
“Okay, I’m going to head over to home depot then, I’ll see you soon... Hey! Love you!”
He smiled. “See you soon.”
He clapped his phone shut and locked the door behind himself as he left.

Chapter 6

Grace arrived before he returned. This time, she had a four-year-old and a young woman with her. The young woman was short, slightly, plump, with large brown eyes and a cheerful smile. She looked as if she was the boy’s mother.
Each of them entered carrying something. The women carried bags, and the boy carried a tattered blanket.
Dropping everything at her favored booth, Grace turned to her guest, “Do you have this handled? Do you care if I start dinner?”
“Please!” said the young woman, “Go ahead.”
“Stephan, where’s your train?” the young woman asked the little boy.
“In the car,” he said. “Can I play with the new one?”
“No.” The woman’s brown eyes sparkled at him. “Those are for Aunt Grace and Daddy’s diner.”
“And Mommy and Stephan’s diner!” Grace called from the kitchen.
The woman beamed a smile in the direction of the kitchen even though Grace couldn’t see through the wall.
“Grace?” she called.
“Yeah?”
“I need to run out the car, can you keep an ear out for Stephan? There doesn’t seem to be—”
“I’ll go with you, Mommy.”
Grace came out of the kitchen, drying her hands. “Are you sure?” She asked Stephan. “You and I could watch her out of the train window together.
A moment of indecision passed on the boy’s part.
“I’ll go with Mommy,” he said, almost in a whine.
“Oh Grace,” I’m sorry,” said his mother.
“He doesn’t know me yet,” Grace said in an undertone. “How could I possibly take it personally?” Louder, she called to Stephan. “I’ll watch you and Mommy out the window. If you see, me, will you wave?”
The boy barely nodded.
Mother and son went out the door. As they left, Grace knelt on her favored bench, and waved.
“Hi Stephan!” she called. The mother and son went out to a white minivan, the only vehicle in the parking lot.
Stephan and his mother returned shortly. Stephan was laughing.
“Did you see me?” Grace asked.
“Yes!” he laughed.

While Grace fixed dinner, the woman arranged items on the table.
Certainly, the items couldn’t stay there. Tables need napkin holders, salt and pepper shakers, advertized specials, and sugar packets. Coffee creamer and jelly were optional. Grace would never allow knickknacks, would she? Frank Wilson never allowed them.
But the woman moved the items before Grace ever saw them. After the woman rearranged them a couple times, she pulled out a finishing hammer and a package of brads from one of the bags. Seeming certain of where she wanted the items, she mounted the décor on the walls.
Funny thing, the underlying theme through all the décor was trains. No other owner had considered this step. The old white plastic clock found itself on the island counter and replaced by a clock with a purple train around it.
Grace reappeared after awhile. “Bethie, this looks great!”
Jackie’s wife, Bethie, and Stephan, his son?
“I’m not so certain,” Bethie replied. “I think this is hideous.” She took the purple train clock down and put the old white one back up. “And this doesn’t have the right effect either.” This time, it was a plate with an etching she brought down. “I bet I could find some old pictures we could put into frames.”
“Pictures from the area?”
“Yes, Riverfront Park used to be riddled with tracks and junctions and all sorts of—”
Grace nodded. “I like it. You could emphasize the area’s history.”
“And trains!” Stephan volunteered. “You should have a train.”
“Honey, we’re on a train.” Grace corrected him.
“No, I think he means a toy train.” Bethie mumbled to Grace, but spoke louder to Stephan. “Like a toy track around the room?”
Stephan nodded.
“That would be noisy,” Bethie said.
Grace shook her head. “Restaurants are noisy places. The nosier the better, I say.”
Just then, a train passing behind the café interrupted their conversation. Grace looked to Bethie, who appeared to be ready to speak, but laughed instead.
“What?” asked Grace. “The train?”
“Yes, the noisy train! Perfect timing. I could ask Jackie to mount the track, or we could hire someone from that model engine shop down the street.”
“There’s a model engine shop here?”
“Oh yeah,” laughed Bethie. “Been there for ages.”
Just then, something distracted Stephan outside. He went to the window. “Daddy!”
“No, no, Stephan, wait for Daddy to come in.”
In came the man with the sandy brown hair. The man who had been there previously was indeed Jackie, Grace’s brother.

Chapter 7

Jackie was an affectionate husband and father, it seemed. He kissed Bethie upon entering and after setting down his ‘Home Depot’ bag, scooped up Stephan for a mid-air wrestling tickle-fest.
“We were just talking about you,” Grace said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, your wife was volunteering your services. Stephan thinks we need a train to go around the room.” Grace pointed at the ceiling.
“Where? In the center?”
“No, honey, like they do at that one place, Cyrus O’Leary’s.”
“Oh yeah, nice thinking, Stevie.”

While dinner was baking in the oven, Gracie warmed the vegetables with butter in a frying pan, and Jackie mounted the television set in the corner. Bethie cheered him on.
Jackie wasn’t quite done by the time dinner was ready, having to debate the issue with Bethie regarding the needed clearance for a train. Grace came out to check on them once or twice, teasing Stephan as she did so, with a tickle to his neck.
After the third time she popped her head in, Bethie motioned behind her with her left thumb. “Is she all right?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Jackie whispered back. “She’s just not used to married people who like each other.”
Bethie covered her mouth with her long nails and stifled a laugh.
“I’m going to conduct interviews here on Saturday. Do you think you would want to see a movie with her?”
Bethie glanced at Stephan. “Maybe. He doesn’t sit through Sesame Street. How could he sit through a movie?”
“Don’t take him.”
Bethie’s face lit up as she got her cell phone out. She pressed a couple buttons, but waited until the train rumbled past. Cell phones at the café were definitely new and different.
The phone went up to her ear.
“Hi mom—hey, what are you doing Saturday?”
Bethie glanced at Stephan and wrinkled her nose in a smile at him.
“Well, would you be willing to take Stephan?”
Bethie shifted her weight from side to side, Jackie stopped what he was doing to look at her, Stephan continued playing with his train on the floor, and Gracie pulled the chicken out of the oven.
“Okay, I’ll call you with more details tomorrow, okay? Thanks, Mom! Love you!” She snapped her phone shut.
“Dinner’s ready,” said Grace as she popped her head out of the kitchen.
Before she could disappear again, Bethie called, “Hold up! Want to go out with me Saturday?”
“To a flea market? To find décor?”
Bethie turned with her eyebrows high in her curly dark bangs.
Jackie smirked and continued grunting and puffing as he screwed the bolt into place.
“Yes,” said Bethie. “I was going to say movie, but—”
“I bet you know all the best places to look, too.”
“Yes, and with you and me together, it’ll be twice as many eyes.”

One of the tables in the back dining room was set with a tablecloth. Grace set the food out on an adjacent table and filled everyone’s drinks.
“Do either of you want wine with your meal?” she asked, filling her own glass. The diner didn’t have any goblets, but Grace did everything with style.
Jackie and Bethie exchanged a glance, but Grace didn’t catch it.
“We both have to drive home tonight,” Jackie said.
Grace didn’t look phased.
“I’ll have some tea, if you have it.” Bethie smiled politely.
“I do.” Grace left the room.
Jackie and Bethie looked at each other. More than just an uncomfortable look passed between them.
As Grace reentered, Jackie straightened himself out slightly. “Grace, will we be serving alcohol here at the diner?”
Grace frowned as she poured hot water into a mug and offered tea samples to Bethie. “It’s not really something we talked about, Jackie. We could, if you wanted to, but it would require a liquor license, and might not be worth the effort. We close at four in the afternoon.”
This wouldn’t have stopped old Love-less.
Bethie started laughing with her mouth shut.
Jackie looked relieved.
Grace raised her eyebrows. “Well, that’s a relief!” she cried.
“Were you thinking about Uncle George?” asked Jackie.
“No, I was thinking about Grandpa,” Gracie said.
Bethie nodded to her. “I was thinking about your grandpa too.”
Grace nodded, looking somber. “If you change your mind about the wine, it’s in the walk-in. But don’t feel...”
“Got ya,” nodded Bethie as she inhaled steam from her tea. “We understand.”

Chapter 8

That Saturday, it was Jackie who came to the café instead of Grace, as planned. He drove up in his gray Camry.
What would he know about hiring a cook? Every other owner, including Love-less was familiar with a kitchen. Jackie could appreciate food, like any other human on the planet, but that was as far as his knowledge seemed to go.
He entered boldly, for not knowing his way around a kitchen, with a briefcase and a laptop in his left hand. Under his right arm, he held a newspaper, and in his right hand, he held a lidded coffee cup labeled “Jacob’s Java.” He crossed the café to the far end, remaining in the main dining room, but choosing the booth farthest from the door.
He retrieved a yellow steno notebook out of his briefcase and set it on the table. Then he thumbed through the sports section until he found the crossword.

A half hour later, someone entered—a white haired blonde with black eyebrows and too much make up. Frank Wilson would have never approved. Spunky, not punkish. Love-less, on the other hand, might have tried to make a move on her.
Jackie looked down at his cell phone, and pressed a couple buttons.
“Come in,” he said without looking up.
She approached the table, scowling.
Jackie half stood and extended his right hand. “Jack Stuart.”
“April Rayne.”
They shook once and sat. Jackie pulled her application out of his briefcase.
“Obviously, I received your fax, thanks.”
She nodded, the corner of her mouth moving up ever so slightly.
“Says here you graduated from Tropica Cooking School in Florida? When?”
“Oh-five. Does that have anything to do with the hire?”
Jackie looked up at her with his eyebrows high. He shrugged a shoulder and nodded his head no.
April blew air up into her bangs in a sigh.
“Do you have any questions for me?” Jackie asked as he looked over her resume.
“Yeah, who have you hired so far?”
“No one.”
“No wait staff, no dishy’s?”
Jackie shook his head.
“Well, I won’t do my own dishes. You should know that up front. And I won’t allow my recipes to be tampered with. I make the menu, or no deal.”
“Really.” It sounded more like a statement than a question.
“Yeah, I’m good. I could get a job in New York, if I wanted, but I’m here in this dumpy town because my mom is sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Jackie opened his mouth as if he would say or ask more, but didn’t. He closed it again like a trap.
“So why don’t you hire your dishy’s and your wait staff first, then call me. I’ll tell you if I’m interested.”
“Right,” Jackie said rather flatly. “Thanks for coming.”

The next applicant was ten minutes early. He came in with a baby on his hip, looking rather embarrassed. The baby had dark brown eyes, and a full head of curly, black hair.
Jackie stood and the man approached, putting his hand out. “Tony Gianetti, sir.”
“Jack Stuart.”
They shook.
“I’m sorry I’m bringing my baby... I work nights at the Comfort Inn, housekeeping. I get home and my wife ran off to Holy Family—her sister’s having a baby. She told me she’d be home in time, but...”
Jackie smirked.
“And thank you for seeing me. I don’t know much about fax machines, but I can interview real well.”
Jackie nodded.
“I grew up in Grandma’s kitchen, where I learned to love food, if you know what I mean... I went to school at the Coeur d’Alene Chef’s Academy and graduated at the top of my class in two t’ousand two. I have a reference there, his name is Angelo Perenelli.”
Tony leaned over and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. After shifting through a few cards, he passed one to Jackie. Jackie jotted the number down on the yellow paper and handed the card back.
“I worked at IHOP for three years, but the new head cook there didn’t like me much when he came in. He brought in his own people. I got the housekeeping job after that because I have a family to support, with Rosie here, and Marie at home—or she would be home if she weren’t with her sister.”
Jackie nodded.
Tony continued, “I got in the rhythm of the night shift, which made it hard to look for work during the day, see. But I saw your ad for the new restaurant and thought, ‘Tony, hey! Do you want to be changing sheets forever?’ And I don’t. So, I called—if you need help openin’ your new restaurant, I can help, see?”
“Okay,” laughed Jackie. “Any suggestions?”
“Any cook you interview needs their own dishy.”
“Really?”
“Well, any good cook. You hire a dishy yet?”
“No.”
“Exactly my point. Any good kitchen manager or owner is gonna hire a good cook first.”
“Really?”
What a relief. Jackie was getting good advice.
“Yeah, so if you hire me, I’ll bring along whatever you need. I’ll be your man. You need a dishy? I got my sister’s boy... Anthony, he follows me everywhere—follows directions real good. You need a waitress?”
“I don’t know. My sister may have something to say about that.”
“Your sister? Yeah. You gotta go with blood first. I respect that. If she wants more help, I could find someone, ya’ know? Maybe Anthony’s girlfriend, maybe my wife’s sister—”
“The one who just had a baby?”
“Yeah... she wouldn’t be able to start right away, but maybe soon. Her ol’ man don’t take such good care of her, ya’ know?”
Jackie rubbed his forehead. “Well, how little you willing to work for?”
“How little?” laughed Tony, “How little? How little you looking to get away with?”
Jackie grimaced. “I was hoping to start the cook out at fifteen dollars an hour. It’ll be our first month, so we’ll be in the hole, but as we climb out, I’d like to offer more—Grace will have to let me in on how much more.”
“Hey—for fifteen dollars an hour, I would do a whole lot more than just cook, ya know?” Tony laughed good-naturedly, and the baby laughed at him and connected her hands with his mouth with glee. She looked to be about ten months old.
Tony may not have had a resume for Jackie, but he did have heart. Hopefully, Jackie would see he was the right one for the café.

Chapter 9

“Mario N. Barry” was on the top of the resume in front of Jackie.
He was waiting for this one. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. He crossed his legs, resting his ankle on top of his knee. His foot wriggled up and down.
He got out his cell phone and dialed. His foot was in constant motion until he lifted his eyes up.
“Hello.”
He scratched behind an ear.
“I’m waiting.”
Stretching his free arm out, he arched his back.
“His resume is the best looking of the batch. It appears professional, he’s trained locally, at Spokane Community College, and so he may understand the people here.”
Jackie flipped a page, looking over the resume.
“With wackos like you running around, don’t you think that’s important?” He grinned
He threw a hand up in a gesture of surrender. The café rumbled as a train passed behind it.
“All right—All right—You know—know I was just teasing.”
Jackie yawned.
“It looks like he was in Seattle for awhile, but now he’s cookie for a restaurant in the Valley called ‘Sports Score.’ I’ve called all his references; they have nothing but high praise for him.”
Jackie yawned again. “Sorry... must...have...more...coffee!”
He glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes ago... I know, it doesn’t look good...Wait, he’s here. Love you.”
Jackie made a kissing sound into the phone and snapped it shut.
He turned the ringer off while the applicant entered.
“Mr. Barry,” said Jackie as he got to his feet and held out his hand. “Jack Stuart.”
“Thanks, Jack. So what have you got going on here?”
Jackie explained the diner. “My understanding is that this was a dining car at one point in time. Over the years, different owners have added on a station, or redone the bathrooms, modernized the kitchen—”
“Menu?” Do you know what type of food you’ll serve here?”
“Just plain ol’ food,” said Jackie. “My sister has a menu worked up.”
“Oh really, ha! Well, that was kind of her... hmm... I suppose you’ll keep a couple items off it to make her happy?”
“No, I’m not in charge of that, Mr. Barry—”
“Right, well that’s encouraging. It’s good to know what kind of creative license I’ll have here...”
“No, I’m afraid you misunderstood. She’ll be the kitchen manager.”
“Oh no, I won’t need a kitchen manager. I’m sure I can help your business succeed. As you can see,” he said, gesturing to his resume, “I have plenty of experience.”
“Hmm—I appreciate that. As co-owner, she may not be sold on the idea.”
Mario N. Barry didn’t even blush. “Co-owner? I see. She’ll see her business is in good hands. If you look my resume over, you’ll see I’ve learned about kitchen managerial work during my education.”
“Right,” said Jackie, flipping the pages and changing the subject. “So, you have your own dishy?”
Good, Jackie, pull up what you’ve learned.
“Yes, my own prep cook. I have at least three serves I can bring with me as well.”
“Three?”
“Yes.”
“From?”
“My current job.”
“What will the owner of the business do after you’ve left with your dishy and three servers?”
“That’s his concern. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll have someone else in right away.”
Jackie merely raised an eyebrow in response.
“If I may—what is the starting wage?”
“Fifteen per hour.”
“Serious?”
“We’re just starting out. Certainly, with your education, you understand that we don’t want to go in the hole any more than we have to.”
Mario N. Barry flushed a little. “Well, creative license and all, I would still be interested. It would be a chance to make a name for myself.”
Jackie laughed under his breath. Did Mario hear it?
“If I were to offer you the job,” Jackie asked, “how soon could you take it?”
“Well, I would need to meet your sister first, but then I would be available in two weeks.”
“Why meet my sister first?”
“Sounds like she’ll be around a bit. I like to know if I can work with whoever I’m going to be working for.”
Jackie sat back and crossed his arms, looking at Mario. He scowled with a furrowed brow.
Mario N. Barry stiffened.
“Thanks for your time,” said Jackie stiffly, getting to his feet. “I’ll call you with my decision.”
As Mr. Barry left, the hydraulics on the diner’s front door gave way suddenly, and the door slammed angrily behind him.

Chapter 10

Jackie’s cell phone buzzed on the table.
It was turning into a long day for him, and he was starting to show fatigue. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and picked up the phone.
“Hello?” He pinched his eyes shut and aggressively scratched his scalp just over his forehead. It appeared as if he was trying to stimulate hair growth—or maybe a thought.
“How are you two?” Having fun?” Now the scratching moved just below his left collarbone.
“Good—” He yawned, dropping his jaw quickly up and down, rubbing at an ear.
“Really?” Jackie got to his feet and lumbered toward the kitchen.
“Hold on.” The fatigued interviewer entered the walk-in, shivering, grabbed a casserole dish and pulled up the foil.
He grunted ‘man-talk’ into the phone, “o...o...o...o...o... What do you want me to do with this?” He stood motionless, staring into space across from him. “375 degrees in the oven at four pm?”
This wasn’t going to help Jackie right now.
He continued listening as he put the enchilada dish back on the shelf.
“Okay...” He left the walk-in and strolled around to the freezer. Opening the door, his face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“I don’t care if it’s not homemade! Marie Callendar’s is good!” He selected a pot pie and left the freezer.
“Thanks, Gracie; you’re the best—well aside from Bethie.”
He snapped his phone shut and slid it into his pants pocket.
Ambling out of the kitchen, he set the pie box down on the island counter. Briefly, he read the directions on the package. Ripping the pull-tab off as if he’d never eaten before, he opened the side and placed the box with the pie in it into the microwave.
“Power, time, one, zero, zero, zero,” he said as he punched in the numbers. “Power, zero, time, five, aero, zero, start.”
The microwave started up, making its dysfunctional sounds. ‘clank-clank’ and occasionally a grinding sound. Jackie shrugged a shoulder at it and turned to walk back to his booth, but stopped after two steps.
He stood stock still, listening. Finally, he turned toward the wall to his left. Did he hear it too?
He had. He placed his hand up to the wall and felt the miniscule vibration.
“No train,” he said, aloud.
Chapter 11

After lunch, interviews were underway again. A tall, lanky young man with a bright orange afro was sitting across from Jackie.
“Thanks for coming, Mr.—”
“Miet, ‘pleased to meet you,’” said the man.
“Well, Stuart,” said Jackie, fumbling through the resume, “I am Jack Stuart.”
“Oh, that’s funny, but I go by Stu.” The man was all teeth as he smiled.
Jackie nodded to him and quickly looked down again at the paperwork.
“So when did you graduate?”
“Well, I would have been 2005, but I had some issues with my car...”
“So you haven’t actually completed culinary school.”
“Uh, no.”
“I have to be honest,” said Jackie, “this doesn’t look like an application for cook, maybe prep cook, or wait staff—”
“Oh, I’d take any of those jobs! Are you going to eat that?” Stu referred to Jackie’s half-eaten pot pie.
“Well, we’re not hiring for those positions right now, but I can keep you in mind when we do.” Jackie ignored the young man’s question regarding his food.
The men stared at each other for a moment. Stu Miet must have realized the interview was over at that point because he flashed his enormous set of teeth again, stood and offered a handshake to Jackie, who was standing as well by this time.
“Thanks for your time,” Jackie said kindly.
Jackie walked Stu to the door and opened it for him. He let it do and watched the hydraulics as the door slowly swung shut. It worked perfectly.
Shrugging, Jackie went back to his seat to look at the next resume up.

The last interview of the day was for an E. Colli. Jackie called on his references, leaving messages. He called directory services for Florida on Tropica Cooking School. As soon as he shut his phone, he launched a tirade over the fact that there was no such place. He pulled out the crossword puzzle that he had started that morning and worked on it for some time before glancing at his watch.
Three-forty-five. Jackie jumped up and ran into the kitchen where he turned the oven on to 375 degrees. Returning to his seat, he looked out the window as a train rumbled slowly behind the café.
At 4:00, the enchiladas—the first ones to ever be prepared at the café—went into the oven, and the resumes returned into the briefcase. Jackie turned the television on and flipped through the channels. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. As the contraption hit the air, a buzzing sound became audible.
“Hello?” He turned the volume down on the television set.
“Yeah, I’m done. My last interview was a no-show.” He continued flipping through channels.
“I’m going to sleep on it. I think I’ve narrowed it down to two, but I need to wait on references for my first still. I wasn’t really impressed with her, but she might still be in the running. Looks like I misread her application. Tropica Cooking School is in California.”
Jackie glanced at the clock. “Yeah, tell her it’s in the oven.”
Closing his eyes, he listened to the voice that must have belonged to his wife, “Are you picking up Stephan first?”
He scratched his chin with his right shoulder. “Okay, I’ll see you in an hour. Love you...bye.”
Only time would tell who would get the position. A good staff could bring amazing spirit to a restaurant; a poor staff would only ‘make do.’ Jackie didn’t realize how important his decision was now, but hopefully by morning he would.
Train Trax 12

Sunday morning, Grace came in as usual. This morning was different though. She turned on the Sunday Morning Show and cranked the volume loud enough for anyone to hear it in the kitchen. She was feeling good today; she was cranking out a brunch the café hadn’t seen in years, and she was doing it on her own. She put off the French toast, pancakes, and waffles until the end and whipped up scrambled eggs at the same time. At about 11:30, another key turned in the lock and Jackie entered with his family.
“Grace?” He called over the television set.
“Hi!” she called as she came out of the kitchen. She had a work uniform on today. Buttons up the right and left sides of the white smock showed who was in charge of the kitchen today.
She gave her brother and sister-in-law a hug and kissed her little nephew on the cheek in spite of his squirming. She clapped her hands. “Who is hungry?”
“I am!” Stephan seemed to come alive suddenly.
“Breakfast is ready! Let’s eat in here today.”
They sat at the island counter together as Grace took their orders and instantly brought out the food. Grace served herself last, bringing out a little bit of everything she had cooked up from the kitchen.
Jackie’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “I want some of that!” His words were barely distinguishable through his mouthfuls.
“I’m done serving! What do I look like, a short order cook?” Grace quipped.
Jackie looked at Bethie with a sudden movement of his head and bobbed it back at Grace. “As a matter of fact, yes, you do look like a short order cook.”
“Well, go get it yourself!” she laughed at him. “I have tons more in the back.”
Jackie took his plate and moved around the counter to enter the kitchen.
“Oh gosh,” Grace laughed to Bethie, “I didn’t think he was serious! Jackie! I would have got it for you... Sorry!”
He popped his head through the kitchen doors. “I’ll be eating in here, this morning. I can tell when I’m not wanted!” He disappeared through the doors again.
“We want you, daddy!”
“Just kidding,” he said as he popped back through. There was a bit more on his plate. “I just want to be closer to the food.” He disappeared back into the kitchen again.
“Jackie!” Beth yelled, “Get in here!”
“Geesh!” he said, reappearing with a plate full to the brink. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but do any of you care? No—”
Grace shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“Well, how is it?”
“Delicious!” Bethie volunteered.
“Well...” Stephan began.
“Yes?”
“Do you have any of that milk?”
“Yes, I do,” said Grace, hopping off her stool.
“Nonsense!” said Bethie. “Drink your orange juice first. You asked for it.”
Grace sat back down.
“I’ll get it when he’s eaten a bit more. I don’t want him to drink his lunch.” Bethie spoke with sternness.
“Brunch,” corrected Jackie.
“Whatever,” said Grace. “Maybe for you, but Stephan’s already ate today, I bet?”
“Yes, I didn’t think he’d make it through church,” Bethie said.
“I wouldn’t, if I were his size,” Grace said “How was church?”
“It was great,” said Jackie, speaking rather quickly. “You know, you could come with us.”
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant...Jackie, you know I don’t—” Grace sighed, shaking her head.
Bethie accidentally bit her fork. “Ow!”
“Try not to eat your fork,” Jackie quipped with a smirk. “Forks are not for eating.”
“But they are,” said Grace, eyebrows up and a serious look on her mouth. “I don’t expect Bethie to use her hands...”

The banter continued throughout breakfast and through clean up.
When they were finished with their work, the three of them sat down at Grace’s favored booth.
“Well?” asked Grace. “Do we have a cook?”
“I think I decided on one, yes. Let me give him a call.” Jackie, sitting on the outside of the booth next to his wife, rose to his feet and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through numbers before finding the one he wanted.
Holding the phone up to his ear, he turned the television set down.
“Hello. This is Jack Stuart.” He scratched his nose and gave Stephan, who was playing on the floor, a wink.
Grace hopped up and left the room.
“Are you still available for that cook’s position?”
Grace entered the employee area near the back door to grab her laptop.
Jack grinned from ear to ear. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
Grace returned quietly, and plugged in the laptop.
“Well, would you have time to come to the café this afternoon for orientation?”
Grace booted up her computer.
Jack rubbed his temple for a moment. “I see, I think that’d work out.”
“What was the name of that website again?” Grace asked Bethie.
“Just type in the search field ‘Oriental Trading Company.’” Bethie hopped up and moved around to sit next to Grace.
Grace followed her advice and clicked in the appropriate spot. When she pulled up the appropriate web site, she typed “train” on the search line.
“Holiday train décor,” said Grace as she peered on the screen.
“Not quite what we’re looking for,” Bethie admitted. “Next page?”
Grace clicked on the arrow and the new screen popped up.
“Ooh, look,” said Bethie, “train tattoos.”
“Seventy-two for four-ninety-five,” said Grace.
This attracted Stephan’s attention and he crawled on his mother’s lap, looking over Grace’s shoulder too.
“I want train tattoos.”
Grace smirked, “When I was your age, a tattoo was a completely different thing.” She clicked the next button to check out the next page.
“Train whistles!” Bethie exclaimed.
“Putting train whistles in the shopping cart. But we have to keep them. They’re nine-ninety five per dozen.”
“Maybe you can give them to VIP’s,” suggested Jackie. “He’s on his way over right now.”
“Do we need to vacuum?” Grace asked nervously.
“It looks fine to me. We’ll clean it more later, if you like. You stay down; you’ve had a full day.”
“Jackie, don’t baby me.” Grace snapped at him.
Jackie didn’t reply.
“I’m sorry,” said Grace, “I’m a little stressed. I don’t want him to turn his nose up at the place... and I could’ve used a nap. I’ve gotten into a habit.”
“Not a bad habit,” admitted Jackie.
“Mommy takes naps sometimes when she thinks I’m sleeping,” Stephan admitted, patting Grace on the forearm.
Grace’s and Bethie’s eyebrows shot up as they looked at one another.
Bethie shook her head while Grace nodded. “He’s got you figured out, has he?” the aunt asked.
“I guess so. He’s lucky I don’t take him home and put him down for a nap right now.”
Jackie shook his head. “I’d like you to meet the new cook too.”
“Check it out,” said Grace, “Good and Plenty candy theatre boxes. Now tell me, what does that have to do with trains?”
Bethie shook her head. “Absolutely nothing.”
Jackie turned on the game and sat in the next booth over. Stephan joined him, crawling into his lap.
“Oh look,” whispered Bethie to Grace.
She saw it too. It was a little engineers costume set. Grace put it in the shopping cart along with a train crossing light with sounds. “It’ll go right next to the cash register,” she explained to Bethie.
After going back to the first page, and throwing in some stickers into the mix, Grace found packages of crayons to add to the mix and hit the check out.
“Tomorrow I’ll find some coloring pages to print for your younger clientele.”
“Will you have time to help mount our flea market finds?”
“I should. I’ll call you.”
Just then, Tony walked in the front door. Everyone stood, introduced himself or herself and shook hands.
“Have a seat,” suggested Jackie, and they moved into the dining room where they could sit around a table, facing each other, rather than the intimate confines of a booth.
“Well, you’ve met my brother Jackie,” said Grace, “and my sister-in-law, Bethie, and my nephew, Stephan. My name is Grace Stuart, and I’ll be working the restaurant with you. I expect you to be professional, clean, and you take orders from me, got it?”
Jackie looked surprised. Bethie looked stoic. Tony didn’t look phased.
“Yes, ma’am. I am here to serve.”
“Perfect, that’s what I’m looking for. Oh, and the ability to follow a recipe. This isn’t ‘Iron Chef America,’ this is my place. This isn’t your proving ground, understand? It’s mine. You have no money invested into it; you have the ability to walk away at any time. Jackie and I are in this together, and Bethie by extension. If you screw up, we get hurt.”
Tony looked somber. “I understand.”
“So I’m the lead cook, the lead waitress, and the kitchen manager, understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jackie may have stepped in to rescue him from Grace’s drilling. “Tony, you said you can start Wednesday?”
“Yes sir. I called them today and said I may have found another job.”
“May?” asked Grace.
“If you didn’t like me, I wanted a job to go back to.”
Grace nodded.
“Were they okay with the short notice?” asked Jackie.
“Yeah, I told them my brother-in-law needed work. He can push a vacuum just like anyone else.”
“Let me guess, his wife just had the baby.”
“Yep.”
“I’ll be back in a sec.” Grace got up and left the dining room for the back room.
“Do you remember when you said you would be my man?” Jackie asked him in a low voice.
“Whatever you need.” Tony replied, matching his tone.
“There may come a time when I need a favor, but not today.” Jackie locked eyes with him.
“Just let me know.” Tony sat up a little straighter.
Grace returned with a key and handed it to Tony. His face lit up.
“Did you have health insurance at The Comfort Inn?” Jackie asked.
“Couldn’t afford it.”
“We will try to line some up this month, provided the restaurant doesn’t fall flat on its face.”
“The business,” corrected Grace with regal charm and immense wisdom. What a beautiful, intelligent woman she was. “The restaurant seems to be in fine condition.”
“Sorry,” Jackie called to the four walls around him. “I meant the business, not the building.”
He might work out in the kitchen after all.

Train Trax 13
A key turned in the lock and in walked Tony. This time, he had his daughter on his hip, and a young woman followed him in. The young woman appeared to be a relation of Rosie's. She had the baby’s dark eyes, black, curly hair and rosebud lips.
“Tony, are you sure we’re supposed to be here?” she pursed her mouth together.
Tony flipped on more of the lights. “I have a key, Marie. This is my new job.”
“Oh, no, baby! Not another new job. What was wrong with The Comfort Inn?”
“It was night janitorial!”
He watched her face change slowly.
“This isn’t...?”
He shook his head.
“This isn’t?” The volume built in her voice.
“No, baby it’s not,” he laughed and caught her with his free arm as she rushed to hug him. He buried his face between her and the baby.
“You remember when ol’ Tony told you he had somewhere to be Saturday morning?” He grinned.
“Yes—oh! I’m so sorry, babe!”
“It’s no problem. Rosie and I came together and had an interview for Train Trax Café.”
“So what will you do? Cook? Have you met the other staff?”
“This isn’t IHOP, baby. This is Train Trax. That’s a high quality establishment!”
Marie’s face changed again. She took a step back and smacked her husband in the arm. “Hey, what are you playing at? This isn’t IHOP? Of course this isn’t IHOP. So do you know the other employees or not?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I met Grace today—she’s the other owner and cook slash waitress slash kitchen manager. But that’s it—no other employees yet.”
“Other cook? No other employees?”
“Nah, I told ‘em I’d bring Anthony with as my dishy-prep cook.”
“Anthony, a prep cook?”
“That’s what he did at IHOP. Anthony, my prep cook.”
Marie’s jaw dropped and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh Tony—” Her hands went u to cover her mouth and nose. “You got a cooking job.”
“Yes, I got a cooking job—but not just any cooking job, I got the cooking job. These guys treat me right, I could retire from here.”
“So, you’re the head cook?”
“Aside from Grace? You know it,” he grinned.
She hugged him long and hard.
“Oh Tony, I’m so proud—so proud!”
Train Trax 14

Tony’s first day of work was Wednesday. He and Anthony arrived promptly at nine am to Grace and coffee.
“Anthony, this is my boss, Grace. Grace, this is my dishy, Anthony.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
They shook hands.
“Pleased to meet you, Ma’am.”
“Anthony, what kind of experience do you have?”
“I worked with Tony at IHOP.”
Grace nodded. She appeared stern and skeptical. “All right, today is test day. All the recipes I want prepared are in the kitchen. URM stocked us yesterday, so I double-checked—You have everything you need. Right to left, as soon as we’re through with coffee.”
“Coffee? asked Anthony. “You are a nice woman.” He spoke imitating the simplicity of a child.
Grace threw her head back and laughed. “Well, thank you, but you haven’t tried the coffee yet.”
They hadn’t more than a couple sips when Bethie arrived with Stephan.
“Bethie, Stephan, this is Anthony. I believe you know Tony already?”
“Pleased to meet you,” Beth smiled the words out, rather than speaking them.
“All right,” said Tony to Anthony, “you ready, man?”
“But my coffee! This is good!”
“Take it with you. It’s time to get to work and let these ladies talk.”
“What do you think?” Bethie asked as the two employees left the room.
“Too early to say,” said Grace. I hope they know their stuff. I can see why Jackie hired him, but...”
“Sometimes personality isn’t enough?” Bethie offered. She put her back to the window and her feet up on the seat.
“No,” agreed Grace, “sometimes it isn’t enough.”
“What’ll you do?”
“I’ll tell Jackie that I fired his cook.”

In the kitchen, things were going down. Tony and his nephew began prepping like mad.
“You know what’s riding on this, don’t you?” Tony asked.
“This is your big chance.”
“Yes, it is.”
Wordlessly, they organized ingredients, recipes and pans.
“We’re gonna treat this like three big lunch orders followed by a big dinner order.”
Slowly, but surely, things began to take shape.
Forty-five minutes later, Anthony brought out five different dishes. With a bow, he excused himself to return to the kitchen.
“Not much for wait manners,” said Bethie.
“Yeah, but that’s not what he’s being hired for.”
Grace pulled out a yellow steno notebook. The girls out front sampled and tasted. When they were finished, Grace and Bethie switched tables, taking only the coffee and mugs with them.
“Did you know,” Grace asked her sister-in-law, “the secret of great coffee?”
“I might,” she offered. “What is your secret?”
“Coffee goes into a pump thermos or, if it’s on a burner, gets thrown out every half hour.”
“Then you’re throwing coffee out all day and making it all day.”
“Best case scenario, I’m making coffee all day anyway. Worst-case scenario, it’s just coffee.

Fifteen minutes after the first wave of food, the second appeared. They followed the same routine, sampling the different items offered. Grace took notes, while Bethie picked her favorite.
After the third wave, Anthony took his little bow, but Grace stopped him from returning to the kitchen.
“Would you and Tony join us please?”
He took a slight bow and left.
Tony came out a moment later with Anthony on his heels. He checked his watch as the kitchen door swung shut behind them.
He smiled at the tasters.
“Nice work,” said Grace.
“Really? Thank you,” said Tony. “You didn’t think the quiche a little flat?”
“That’s the recipe,” said Grace, “Not you. I’ve held onto that recipe because it was my grandmother’s. We may need to make some improvements on it.”
“It’s a good recipe; might need some whipping cream.”
“Whipped cream in quiche?” Beth looked green.
“No, whipping cream,” said Grace, “Light cream, without sugar.”
“Oh,” said Bethie, frowning, but nodding. “Whipping cream.”
“The only thing I didn’t like was the doneness of the burgers.
Tony turned a slight shade of pink and nodded his head.
“But that’s just my personal preference. Bethie prefers them to that doneness.”
Some of the pink faded and Tony played with his foot without looking at it. “I decided to err on the side of cooked.”
“I can understand that,” said Grace. “Now, how about you help us clean this up before getting into dinner meals?”
A quick look passed between Tony and Anthony. Grace didn’t know it, but Tony and Anthony had filled the ovens with dinner entrees already.
“You heard her,” said Tony, “let’s get to work.”

Dishes were bussed quickly. Between Tony and Anthony, Bethie and Grace did barely anything at all.
Anthony reappeared a moment later to wipe down surfaces. Without asking, he refilled the ladies coffee.
Grace eyed Anthony and spoke in an undertone. “Not a very good prep cook if he’s not helping.” She raised an eyebrow.
A moment of silence passed through the dining car.
“Order up!” called Tony through the heat-lamp window.
Anthony disappeared again into the kitchen.
The next time they appeared, it was with dinner.
Train Trax 14 and a half

On Friday, after seven at night, Jackie was at the café. He woke Grace after letting himself in. She had her head resting on her folded arms again, mouth slightly agape, with rhythmic breathing. She shut her eyes halfway, even after Jackie entered.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I could ask the same. Do you sleep here all night?”
“I’m small enough to bathe in the sink, so yes.”
Jackie shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“I didn’t mean to,” defended Grace.
This was a total lie. She didn’t care where she slept, it seemed. She was just as comfortable sleeping here as anywhere. The only other owner who ever behaved this way was old “Love-less” who was indeed loveless after his wife kicked him out. She caught wind of one of his affairs after sending someone in to the café that he didn’t know.
“Well, never mind. Unlock the back door for me, would ya?”
She got up as he walked out the front. Meeting him at the back door, she opened it to a generator. Jackie used a dolly to get it through the door.
“What is that for?” Her voice had a bewildered pitch to it.
“Power outages.”
“Power outages? We’re in the middle of the city, during the fall, in a climate where humidity is minimal. Are you telling me that Spokane has rolling blackouts?”
“No, but it was November of 1997 when ice storm hit.”
“Whoa, you weren’t here in ’97.”
In 1997, Ron and Kerry Hauser owned the café. They never knew it, but the café hadn’t lost power. Instead of coming in to check on things, and possibly offer the space as a place for folks to buy food and rest in warmth, they stayed away. In their defense, it was said that the roads were pretty bad. Many people can drive on snow or in the rain, but solid ice is sometimes a different story altogether.
“I wasn’t here in 1997, but Bethie was. She seems to think that the café needs a generator.”
“Whatever happened to that fifty one percent you’re always preaching about?”
“Forty nine has to win out some of the time, right? Otherwise it wouldn’t be forty-nine percent, it’d be ten percent.”
Grace blinked hard while she shook her head. “What? What are you talking about?”
“I have deferred to her judgment,” said Jackie. “Do you need more of an explanation than that?”
“Well, where does it go?”
“In storage, unless you need it, then it goes outside.”
“You expect me to haul that thing outside?”
“I expect Tony or Anthony to haul that thing outside, not you.”
Grace seemed to balk the moment he agreed with her. “Well, I’m not that weak or fragile.”
“No, I didn’t say that. You shouldn’t be troubled with it though.”
“No, I shouldn’t be.”
After Jackie put it away, Grace continued her line of questioning. “What does it run on?”
“Gas.”
“We can’t keep gas in the café.”
“No, but there’s a gas station two blocks up the street. I might put it in the dumpster lockup area.”
“Oh, that sounds safe.”
“You’ll thank me when you need it.”
“Okay, I’ll be sure to thank you when I need it. What happened to Bethie to make her feel this way about ice storm?”
“She was living in a dumpy old apartment at the time. Electric baseboard heaters. The power was out on her apartment for three days, so she evacuated after the first day. It was just too cold. Getting out of the neighborhood with all the downed limbs and power lines was another matter entirely.”
“Was it just her neighborhood, or the whole area?”
“Yeah, Grace, it was just her neighborhood. There was an ice storm that affected only a twelve block radius.”
“Stop it. I can tell when you’re mocking me.” She shook her head at him. “I’m too tired for this.”
“When’s your checkup?”
“Never mind, I’m a big girl, I have it handled. Tell me more about the area.”
“It’s the stuff of legend. Some places in the outlying areas were out of power for a month. Some, like Bethie, got their power back on in three days or less. It was a hard time for all.”
“Huh, I never heard of it before.”
“Me neither, not til I got here. But then, this is just little podunk Spokane.”
Grace raised an eyebrow for half a second and dropped it.
“Come on, let’s lock up, and I’ll give you a ride home,” said Jackie.
Train Trax 15

Sunday, October twenty first was opening day. The first wave of customers were Tony’s Italian grandmother, his uncles and their wives and not just a few cousins—some with spouses and children, some with girlfriends or boyfriends, and some single ones.
Grace was in her element. Cooking school, or no, she was a great waitress, and fed off the people in the café. She was flirty with the babies, kind to the elders, and in tune with the younger set as well.
Tony’s grandmother’s bill mysteriously disappeared once she received her food. She was so thrilled, she went back into the kitchen and gave her grandson’s cheek, and her great-grandson’s cheek a pinch and spoke affectionately to them in Italian.
Tony was baffled. It wasn’t he who picked up the tab. He took Grace aside privately.
“Whatever she owes, figure it out and take it out of my check.”
“Don’t you have any cash on you?”
He sighed.
Grace pulled cash out of her pocket. It was her tip money so far that morning. She split it with him. “Does Anthony need cash?” she asked quietly.
“Anthony lives with his mama still,” said Tony. “He’ll be fine.”
Anthony’s official application had him pegged at nineteen. Grace didn’t know this, but Jackie did.
“Oh, by the way,” Grace said in an undertone. “I didn’t really lose her ticket. I comped her meal.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Tony, returning to the kitchen. “You’re gold, girl!”

The second wave of customers came in after church. This wave included Jackie and Bethie, plus many of their fellow churchgoers. The diner almost burst at the seams. There was a waiting list an hour long, most filled with cell numbers of those who opted to hang somewhere else while they waited for a table.
Tony put out an emergency call to a couple of his cousins who returned to help out in the kitchen, and Jackie and Bethie both, after a brief snack, received a crash course in waiting tables. Grace bounced between the kitchen, the dining rooms, and the dish room.
Two sixteen year old cousins of Tony’s showed up, relieving Anthony and Grace from all dish room duties.
“We’ll definitely be making money on Sundays,” Gracie told Jackie in passing.
Bethie’s mom showed up, picking up an order to go and took Stephan with her. She congratulated the trio on their opening day and ducked out.
“Did mom pay?” fussed Bethie a half hour later. “I’ll pay mom’s bill.”
“Is she charging you for babysitting?” Grace laughed.
“No,” Bethie replied as she cleared a table.
“Then don’t worry about it. She’s your mom. How am I supposed to charge your mom?”
In the middle of the hubbub, Jackie had a private conversation with Tony. “What’s your cell number?” Jackie asked him.
Tony told him while flipping burgers and checking fries.
Jackie dialed it into his cell and hit a button, waiting.
“It’s not on,” Tony said. “I’m at work.”
“It’s okay. It’ll register my cell number.”
“What’s sup?” Tony pulled out a casserole dish from the oven. “Anthony, warming station.”
“I hired you because I thought I could depend on you in a pinch?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope it never comes to it.”
“Yeah?”
“Just have my number in case anything goes wrong.”
“Is your sister having a problem? With a guy?” Tony puffed his chest up, probably unconsciously.
“Nope, she left him Chicago, years ago. Just if Gracie ever starts acting weird, call me.”
“Is she on drugs?”
“No!” laughed Jackie. “I just need to know someone’s looking out for my little sister, that’s all.”
Things finally quieted down at three enough for Jackie and Bethie, the two prep cook cousins, and one of the dish girls to go home.
As the afternoon crowd began to trickle in, Gracie took to popping popcorn in the microwave for the folks waiting for a table. There were none yet, but she wanted to be prepared.
About the time the dining car was full, there was a terrible rumble like an earthquake. It caught Grace off guard and she fell to the floor, spilling coffee everywhere.
The lights flickered off and someone screamed. Tony rushed out of the kitchen, banging the door open as he went.
“Ho-lee crap,” he said, looking outside the window. He went to Grace and helped her up, immediately, his attention shifting between Grace and the window outside.
As soon as Grace was on her feet, she began checking the customers for injuries. No one sustained any injuries.
“Where are we?” someone asked.
“I don’t know,” Grace said, just above a whisper.
Train Trax 16
“Where on God’s green earth are we?” one of the customers asked.
Grace and Tony were speechless, but looked at each other in shock. Grace pulled her cell phone out of her apron pocket and flipped it open. “Tony,” she said urgently, “No reception.”
He hastened back to the kitchen and returned with his in hand. This time Anthony was with him. “I’ll go fire up the generator,” he called to Grace.
Tony and Gracie looked at each other in disbelief.
“My GPS says we’re at forty-six degrees 53" 38.38' north 118 degrees 10" 18.53" west.”
“What?” Gracie exclaimed.
It sounded foreign, but felt familiar. Outside was nothing but rail going past a stream and a field.
“What do we do?” Grace asked Tony, panicked.
“Well, feed these people, for starters. I’ll think of something.”
They would probably never know it, but the dining car had been here before. Ages ago, when the dining car functioned with a train, there had been an accident on this spot. For some unknown reason, the train derailed her. The dining car sat with all the other cars for some time until the railway worker completed the repair of the rail and brought in proper equipment to move the heavy cars into place.
The power flickered back on. Good ol’ Jackie made sure that Train Trax would be a safe haven and covered for a power outage emergency.
Grace calmed the customers down. “Let’s all eat, and then we’ll form a plan for getting you home.”
She went from table to table, soothing people and taking orders. Most of the items could be micro waved, but she assumed that Tony might have food on the hot plate as well.
Grace found dissuading one of the gentlemen from panic not so easy.
“I’m going to take a look outside.”
“Are you sure?” asked Grace. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. This is all so unbelievable, it’s surreal.”
“Huh?” he asked. “Anyway, you ain’t keepin’ me here. Forget food.”
The man walked out of the diner stubbornly.
Grace served customers and received updates from the patrons as to the man’s whereabouts. Was she too busy to watch him? Or irritated that he hadn’t followed her advice?
Right about the time the orders started coming out of the kitchen, the café shook again.
They had returned to Spokane.
Train Trax 17

At the end of the day, three employees sat in the dining room.
“I put a note out on that guy’s truck,” Anthony told Grace.
“What’d you say?” She pushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and attempted to tuck it back up in her ponytail, but it slid free.
“I told him to come in and see you before he takes off.” Anthony looked grim; his forehead lined with emotion.
Grace nodded. “That’d be good. I’d like to know he was okay.” She shook her head and bowed forward somewhat. “I still can’t believe what happened today.”
“That was just plain weird. Marie’s never going to believe it,” said Tony. He pulled a chair from another table and put his feet up on it.
Leaning forward with her hands braced on her knees as she sat, Grace laughed and gave her head the slightest shake. “I’m not sure I believe it.”
All three of them chuckled together. Grace’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her apron like a surprise gift, and opened it.
“Jackie, hi.” She mouthed the words, ‘It’s Jackie,’ to Tony and Anthony.
“Yeah, it was a good day—” She looked as if she would continue, but his excitement seemed to cut off her sentence. It was audible through the phone. She smiled at the ground.
“Um—I’m talking with the guys right now...Listen, can you come in while they’re still here?” She scratched the back of her head and squinted while she asked.
“What do you mean, ‘Everything okay?’” Her eyes widened as she looked from Tony to Anthony.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, they’re great... it’s nothing like that at all.” The heightened suspense seemed to lift off and she rolled her eyes, for obvious entertainment of the guys.
“Yeah, how would he know what happened unless he was here?” Anthony said in a loud whisper.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She sat up a little straighter in her chair, on the edge of the seat and stretched her back as she spoke.
Grace clapped her phone shut. “You guys don’t mind waiting, do you?”
Anthony’s eyes widened as he shook his head; Tony replied with a firm, “No!”
“You guys hungry? Can I make you anything?” She planted both feet firmly on the carpet as she put her hands back on her knees. She appeared as if she were half stretching her back out, half ready to spring into action.
“I’m okay,” said Anthony. “I got a break about an hour ago. I was cleaning on a full stomach.” He patted his stomach.
Grace nodded at him. “Good, very good.”
“I’m hungry, but I can get it myself,” said Tony. He didn’t look like he was going anywhere.
“Nonsense,” said Grace. “You’ve been on your feet all day. Let me get it...”
She got up and walked to the kitchen door, pushing it open with one hand.
“I love her,” said Anthony. “She’s—like—the perfect boss.”
“Shh!” said Tony, “yeah, I told you this was a good setup for us. Jack’s even talking about health insurance.”
Grace returned immediately, looking dazed. “I forgot to ask what you wanted.”
“You’ve had a full day, Gracie, let me get it.” Tony started to lean forward, his feet making it to the floor, but Grace held up a hand.
“No, I’m just distracted—it’s been an amazing day,” she laughed. “And I need to eat too. What do you want?”
“Just zap some of that lasagna for me? It looked so good.” Tony put his feet back up.
“You got it.”
Grace made two plates of lasagna, one for Tony, and one for herself too. Bumping around the kitchen, she pulled out her ticket and made notes of the leftovers from the big first day. Tony had wisely left the food that would not reheat well in the table, but everything else he tucked away safely in the walk in.
“Those table items need to go home with Tony, Jackie, and Anthony tonight,” she mumbled to herself.
She wrote three separate tickets and dropped them into her apron pocket.
Nothing quite goes down with lasagna like milk, and Grace brought out two tall glasses of it. After disappearing into the kitchen again, she brought out two scoops of ice cream over a warmed brownie and placed it in front of Anthony.
“Grace... Grace, Grace, Grace...” mumbled Anthony as he rolled from his chair. He got down on one knee with both hands over his heart. “Please, would you marry me?”
“Shut up!” Grace laughed, exuding confidence. “What are you, like eighteen?”
He turned pink. “I’m nineteen!”
Grace laughed and patted him on the shoulder. She turned and walked back to the kitchen.
“Anyway, I was only kidding!” Anthony called after her.
“I know!” Grace called from the kitchen. Her voice could be heard through the warming window—the ‘order up’ window.
“Anyway, I already have a girlfriend.” Anthony mumbled so that only Tony could hear.
“Anyway, you’re lying,” Tony said over his shoulder, mocking the young mans overuse of his favored word.
“I am not!” Anthony protested.
“Oh yeah? Who?”
“Well, she’s a girl...”
“I hope so,” said Tony. “Just give it up. You don’t have to lie to impress me. You know that.”
Anthony played with his food. “Well, I wish I had a girlfriend.”
“Why?” asked Grace, reappearing suddenly with two plates.
“Well, I...” began Anthony, playing with his ice cream. “Uh...”
“Yes?” Grace badgered him as she placed the two plates on the table. Tony sat up to the table, scooting his chair in.
“See...” He looked up at Grace this time with his mouth trying to form words, but said nothing.
She stood patiently for a moment, with a crease across her forehead and her hands in fists on her hips, and then sat down. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Shut up and eat your ice cream.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He hung his head.
Grace looked at Tony and opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a terrible rumble. The lights flashed off.
“I got it,” said Anthony, as if he were speaking about a ringing telephone.
“I just don’t understand how he can be so lackadaisical about this,” Grace commented.
“He’ll freak next year, I’m sure. It’ll catch up to him right ‘bout that time.”
Grace laughed. What else was there to do? The only noise present was the grating of metal forks against the café plates until the generator kicked the lights back on and a background hum filled the diner.
Anthony returned. “We’re somewhere else this time.”
“Really?” asked Grace, with her mouth full of food. She waved her hand in front of it to cool it off. It was obviously burning her.
“Yeah, we’re in Rathdrum.” Anthony leaned toward the window.
“How do you know?” asked Grace.
“We go this way to Silverwood.”
Tony got to his feet and went out to the main dining room.
“Silverwood? What is that?” Grace dangled her fork in mid-air. “A birch forest?”
“Yup!” Tony called from the next room over, “there’s the DQ, right over there.”
“Dairy Queen,” Anthony explained, “is our favorite stop on the way home.”
“Yeah, there’s this gas station-convenience store at the road that intersects with the highway... Don’t ever go there.” Tony returned from the other room.
“What?” asked Grace.
“The highway Silverwood is on connects with this road, and it goes through Rathdrum, right?”
“Okay...” Grace said, with reluctance in her voice.
“Well, there’s this convenience store there—and they are very rude. Wouldn’t let my wife use the bathroom—well they did, but griped about it the whole time, even though we were gassing up and purchasing food—they were all, ‘Why can’t you use the Silverwood bathrooms.’”
“Oh,” said Grace. Her eyes were wide and she nodded and shook her head at the same time, giving her the appearance of having a swimming head. “What is Silverwood?”
“It’s a theme park,” said Tony. “With a water park.”
“Anyway—” Anthony began, but a buzzing sound from Grace interrupted him.
Grace pulled her cell phone out of her apron pocket. “I have reception.”
“Hello?” she asked as she pulled it out of her pocket.
Jackie’s voice blared through the phone. Grace almost dropped it.
“Here, let me talk to him,” said Tony, as he took the phone from Grace who was willing to give it up.
“Jack, it’s Tony. Your sister’s all right.” Tony furrowed his eyebrows as he spoke.
He looked out the window.
“Yeah, that’s what we wanted to talk to you about—” Tony used the time that Jack gave him by interrupting to take another bite of his food.
“Well, we’re actually in the café, in Rathdrum.” Tony tried looking out of the dining room windows, but everything was dark.
“If you want to drive up here, I could prove it to you,” said Tony. “But I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. I would wait right there, and stay in the parking lot. DO NOT LEAVE THE PARKING LOT.”
Grace rubbed her eyebrows with her left forefinger in two soothing motions.
“Can you imagine what would happen in he was in the way of the diner when we returned?” the dishy asked Grace quietly.
Grace quit rubbing her eyebrows and let her hand slide over her temples as she looked to Anthony. “If we make it back. What if it stays here?”
“Just a sec—” said Tony into the phone, but to Anthony he said, “You, shut up, go clean up or somethin’. Don’t upset Grace.” To Grace, he said, “Of course it’ll be back. It went back earlier, why would it be different this time.”
She shrugged with a shoulder and shook her head, but didn’t give him an answer.
Anthony didn’t obey his uncle when it came to cleaning up, but he didn’t say another word.
“Just hang on, okay?” said Tony into the phone.
He sat up straight with his elbow in the air at a ninety-degree angle from his body.
“Well, do what you think you need to, but I’m tellin’ ya, I bet we won’t be too long. We weren’t earlier...” He looked Grace in the eye. ‘Do you want to talk to him?’
Grace closed her eyes and shook her head. Was enough for her to just wait it out? Certainly Jackie’s distress wouldn’t help her any.
“Okay—okay—I’ll see you soon.—Bye.” Tony clamped the phone shut and passed it back to Grace. He shook his head and took another bite. “Poor guy... And I thought we were stressed out!”
Train Trax 18
Tony was right. It was only a matter of minutes before the rumbling of the diner indicated that it had moved again. Did it jump back to Spokane? If so, was it in its proper place? How awkward would it be if the diner landed backwards? It seemed to go from one familiar feeling place to another.
The key was jammed into the lock, but Anthony was at the door first. He wrestled with the knob inside.
“Just a sec, lemme pull the key out!” Jackie’s anxious voice sounded out from the great beyond.
The key slid out, and Anthony let the anxious man in.
“Grace!” he practically ran through the dining car section, nearly bowling Anthony clear over, to hug his sister. “You okay?”
“Mphh... MMmpls... Mmhy,” Grace said into his coat.
“What?” He let go of her and looked her full in the face.
“I’m fine now that you’re not suffocating me.” She smiled at him, but fatigue lined her face below her eyes.
“What happened?” He was almost shaking her.
“Let’s go sit down.” She gestured to the back of the restaurant.
The quartet retired to the dining room.
“How did this happen?” asked Jackie, sitting down on a chair in the aisle. He used the chair Tony previously propped his feet up on.
Grace shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t think any of us know how it happened, but we did lose a customer when it did,” said Tony. He looked at Jackie with stern concern on his face. It was a familiar expression, used by many a kitchen manager in years past, to assure their bosses that they did indeed take their job seriously, but weren’t stressed about it. Tony was in a position no employee had ever been in before.
“We were in the middle of nowhere,” Grace explained, “and he just didn’t want to stay put.” She used her hands to talk to him, as if he would somehow understand better with the strange gestures.
“Is that his truck in the parking lot?” Jackie asked, pointing in the general vicinity.
“We’re guessing so,” said Grace, shrugging with one shoulder. “It doesn’t belong to any of us.”
“Dang it!” said Jackie, under his breath. He stared at the floor.
They were all silent for a moment, looking at one another.
“So now what?” asked Jackie, popping his head back up quickly. He seemed to be in a rush.
“I don’t know,” said Grace, propping up an eyebrow.
“Do you think we can find a judge that will listen to us in court?”
“What are you talking about?” She narrowed her eyes at him in concentration.
“I’m saying something isn’t right about this place and we’ve been had!”
“You’re talking about real estate law? At a time like this? How could—”
“Whoa, whoa,” said Tony with a hand up between each sibling. “Everyone take a deep breath. First of all, no one is talking to a judge. Jackie, if you want to get yourself committed to Eastern State Hospital, there are faster ways.”
“Isn’t Eastern State the University?” Grace asked.
“You’re thinking of Eastern Washington University in Cheney,” Anthony explained to her in a low voice. “Eastern State Hospital is at Medical Lake, and it’s for...” but instead of finishing his sentence, he tapped his right temple with his index finger on the same side.
Jackie seemed to deflate.
“Secondly,” Tony continued, “this is an act of God.”
“Tony... please—” said Grace. She rolled her eyes and looked away from the conversation momentarily.
“No, let him continue,” said Jackie. “Hear him out.”
“There’s no way something like this should happen. I’ve never heard of anything like it. Never. Not in any ghost story, not in the Enquirer, never have I heard of something like this.”
“Well, there’s ‘Doctor Who,’” Anthony offered.
“Anthony! I’m workin’ here. What are you talking about? I’ve never heard of Doctor which whatever.”
“It’s ‘Doctor Who,’ and he travels through time in a Tardis, landing on different planets, sometimes Earth and different cultures and aliens and stuff...” Anthony received a bone-chilling look from his uncle that interrupted his discourse without hope of ever reviving it.
“Nobody is traveling in time,” said Tony to Jackie. “Nobody is serving coffee to aliens. This is not area fifty-four. This might not even happen again. Now Grace, we had a good first day, didn’t we?”
“We brought in over five thousand,” Grace spoke to Jackie with a sunbeam on her face.
Jackie studied Grace’s face for a moment. This was so important to her; certainly, her brother could see that.
“Let me sleep on it, okay?” asked Jackie as he stood. “Are you guys cleaned up?”
“Except these dishes,” said Anthony, leaving his seat, “I’ll get em.”
“Good man,” said Tony. “About time.”
“Okay, you guys have transpo home?” Jackie asked. “That truck is the only rig in the lot.”
“Yeah, I parked on a side street. I’ll take him home,” Tony said with a nod at Anthony in the kitchen.
“Okay, I’m taking Grace home. I’ll sleep on it and call you in the morning, okay?”
“Yes sir.” Tony said with a quick bow of his head.
Grace followed her brother without too much of a fuss, but dawdled in the kitchen as she took care of the food that wouldn’t reheat well. She sent some home with Jackie, some with Tony and some with Anthony.
“C’mon, Grace; I don’t want to be here if this place jumps again tonight,” Jackie said, as he popped his head into the kitchen.
“I don’t think it will, it’s been hours between jumps.” She handed him a pan of something covered in foil. He took it, but didn’t hardly seem to notice it.
“I don’t want to end up somewhere I don’t want to be.” Worry lined his face.
“Here I come. Goodnight guys!” She allowed Jackie to escort her out of the kitchen and through the dining car.
“Goodnight, Grace!” Anthony hollered, while Tony said, “See you in the morn.”
Train Trax 19

Early the next morning, the gentleman who left during the visit to the old crash site returned. He arrived in a car driven by a woman. She fixed her gaze straight ahead of her. While he spoke to her, she didn’t turn toward him, or offer him any sort of answer, but her face remained in a frown. She drove off the moment the car door shut.
He hung his head as he walked to his truck. He inserted the key in the lock, jumped in and started it up.
Noticing Anthony’s note on the windshield, he reached out and grabbed it. He stared at it long and hard before crumpling it into a tiny ball the size of a jelly packet. He threw it to the far side of his truck and slammed the truck’s door shut.
He revved the engine hard and drove off, running over a concrete pile-on.

Anthony was the first to arrive that morning. He sat on the step and stared at the empty parking lot as the sun rose behind him. Next was Grace, who let him in, and went to making coffee immediately.
As soon as it was ready, she brought him a cup. “Need your own key, Anthony?”
He shrugged. “Not necessarily. I would have taken the bus this morning—but it was too early. Eventually I’d like to get a car, but in the meantime, I’ll just make sure I get here after everyone else, especially as it gets colder.”
“Well, as you see,” she said, showing him the face of her watch. “I get here at about five am. And Tony,” she said, gesturing to the car through the lot, “gets here about 5:15.”
Anthony nodded. It was obvious that he wasn’t really awake yet, or that the warmth of the diner was causing sleepiness.
“Hurry up and drink your coffee before Tony gets in here,” Grace suggested.
“Yeah.”
“You know what a slave driver he is.”
Tony came in through the back door only moments later and Grace greeted him with a ‘cuppa joe.’
“I take it the café was here this morning when you arrived?” He spoke over the rim of his cup.
“Yes,” laughed Grace, shaking her head in disbelief. “I was afraid to bring it up this morning. I thought it might have been a dream.”
“The café was here,” said Anthony, “but the truck is gone.”
Both Tony and Grace crossed the dining car to look outside. “Sure enough,” said Grace. “Do you think he’ll be back?”
“No idea,” said Anthony. “Wasn’t here to see him. He could have been here five minutes before I arrived, or he could’ve come last night after we left.”
“Or,” Tony offered, “someone else came for the truck.”
“At least that would mean he was in contact with someone about it. I think we’ll just need to assume that everything’s okay with him.”
Tony shook his head at her. “You have to assume that he’s man enough to handle himself when he walked out of the diner yesterday.”
“What do you mean, ‘man enough?’ Are you pulling some sort of macho crap or something?” Grace challenged him with her fists on her hips.
“No Ma’am, no macho crap from me. I’m just saying he’s confident enough to be all right. He left the café to go out into who knows what.”
“You are pulling macho crap, Tony Gianetti,” Grace mumbled as she walked off.

Jackie was in before work, checking on things. He was in a mad hurry to get out to The Valley, but Grace insisted that he wait long enough for her to toast an English muffin and pour him some coffee to go.
“I’m warning you Grace, if this happens again—what happened last night—I’m shutting this place down.” He waved a finger in midair, as if chiding her.
“I didn’t do it, Jackie! Nothing is broken, no one was hurt!” She took a step back, palms open, as if she was readying herself to catch something.
“But we lost a customer—and out in the middle of nowhere!” Jackie gestured at the door.
“He’s fine. If he was man enough to leave the café, then he was man enough to handle himself out in the world.” She used her hand like a stop sign, emphasizing the word, “man.”
Hmm... Grace, those words sound familiar, but they don’t sound like yours.
Jackie sighed. “I’m not going to argue with you about this.” He turned to leave.
“Good, I’m glad,” said Grace stubbornly.
The moment Jackie’s car pulled out of the parking lot, Grace heaved a huge sigh.

The day was fairly non-eventful until about one o’clock. A patron from the previous day’s excitement approached her. “Hi, Grace,” he said offering her a handshake, “I’m Zeke Taylor.”
“Pleased to meet you, what can I get for ‘ya?” She eyed him over the top of her ticket tablet.
“Well, I’ll start with a cup of that wonderful coffee of yours,” he said flashing his brown eyes from behind his black-rimmed glasses, “but I’d really like to talk about yesterday.”
“I thought you were here for that,” she said with laughter in her voice. “You caught me in the middle of lunch rush, but if you can come back in a couple hours, I’ll be free for a few minutes.”
“I’ll wait,” he said lightheartedly, and he pulled out a backpack full of textbooks. He was obviously a student, but either an older one, or one showing signs of premature graying.
Grace left for the coffee and he opened a book in front of him and eyed the other customers.
A mouse of a woman was sitting nearby. She seemed nervous and uncomfortable, but curious. “What... What happened yesterday?”
He didn’t hear her at first, or realize anyone was addressing him. After she repeated himself, he switched booths, leaving his belongings behind to keep his seat warm.
“I’m not sure you would believe me.” He scratched the beard that was trying to come in, black against his pale skin.
The woman said nothing, but continued to stare at him. She rested her hands on the table with her long thin fingers interlocked.
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” Zeke said confidently. “This whole diner jumped. We ended up somewhere near Washtucna.”
She shook her head, her mousy brown hair swaying slightly. “I can’t believe that,” she said.
“Told ya,” Zeke said, as he clapped his knees and stood. He returned to his seat to study a specific page in his textbook.
The woman was so upset, she left, fumbling with her keys. She didn’t pay her tab.
It could only be the woman who dropped off the gentleman that morning before the diner opened.
As Grace watched her go, Zeke slipped around behind her, grabbing tip money off one table to cover the woman’s receipt. He returned to his table before Grace saw him.
He’ll probably get indigestion. He deserves it.

About an hour later, Grace came by Zeke’s booth to refill his coffee again. “Thank you,” he said politely.
She set down the carafe and sat opposite.
“So you have a moment?” he asked her, sipping his coffee.
“I do,” she smiled.
“I propose...” he arched an eyebrow at her, “putting a map up of all the locations that this diner visits.”
“What makes you think we’ve been anywhere else?” She smiled the question at him.
He smiled back at her pleasantly, “Because I came by again last night, and found the diner gone.”
“Really? Did you see my brother then?” Grace cocked her head to the side.
“Your brother? Nice. Yeah, I saw him as I drove by.” He wrinkled his nose at Grace.
“Are you flirting with me?” She smirked at him.
“I might be. Is there a problem with that?” He smiled coyly.
“Nope,” she said as she stood, picking up the coffee carafe. “Usually, the guys that flirt are the best tippers.” With that, Gracie walked away, but not before she flashed a smile back at him.
Zeke let out a small laugh, as soon as she was out of earshot, and let out a deep breath. He ran his hair through his wavy black hair.
Zeke didn’t stay long after that, but the woman returned. She sat in a booth at the far end of the dining car, staring straight ahead for a long time. She looked positively despondent. Grace asked her a couple of times if there was anything she needed, but the woman didn’t respond, so the waitress left her to her thoughts.
Then, with a rumble and shake, the diner shifted places again. When the lights came back on, Grace was sitting at a table with an elderly man.
“Hi,” she said as she stood. She walked to the door and locked it. Looking outside, she saw the great blue body of water.
Did she know it was the Great Salt Lake?
“Oh my word!” the despondent woman yelled. “He was telling the truth.”
Grace went back to her. “If you hang on, we’ll be back in Spokane in a jiffy, okay?”
The woman left her seat. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this. Do you know where we are?”
Grace shook her head, and tried to stay calm.
“Everyone all right?” Tony asked as he came out of the kitchen.
“No injuries, Tone—” Grace called to him, but shifted her attention back to the woman. She was crying.
“Come on, let’s sit down right here,” said Grace, leading the woman by the elbow.
“I’m glad you locked the door.”
“Why?”
“We’re in Willard, Utah.”
“Why is that so bad?” Grace furrowed an eyebrow.
“I was raised here,” the woman said in the lowest tone possible.
“Well...” Grace began, “Can I get you something to eat?”
The woman stopped looking outside to stare at Grace. “But I didn’t pay my bill earlier.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t! Don’t tell me the café magically pays people’s bills for them!”
Grace raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue.

The café didn’t stay away for very long. The moment it returned, the woman left the diner.
The rest of the evening was pretty quiet. As soon as the diner closed, Grace disappeared for a few minutes, but came back with a map. She spread it out over the island counter and looked it over for a few minutes before marking the little town in Utah.
Willard, Utah was the station where the dining car loaded bad produce one during a stop, years and years ago when the diner was in high use on a passenger train. Everyone who ate the produce became very ill and had a very bad ride. It was very embarrassing.
Train Trax 20
On Tuesday of the Grand Opening week, Zeke returned again after 1 pm.
“Gracie,” he called to the waitress, and she smiled politely at him, “can I get a meatball sandwich?”
“Coming right up. You want something to drink with that?”
“Yeah, how ‘bout some milk?”
“You got it.”
While she was away, Zeke booted up his computer. Seeing her approach, he seemed to psych himself up, crossed h is fingers briefly, and knocked on the tabletop.
But she wasn’t coming for him. She refilled coffee at tables two and nine, then she seated a couple and took an order at table eight. As she walked toward the kitchen, Zeke tried waving her down unsuccessfully, and grazed her arm as she walked past.
“Yes?” She smiled politely, but recoiled from him.
“Can I talk to you about the shifts again?”
“Uh—I close at six.”
“Oh, it’ll only take a moment.”
Grace didn’t hesitate. “Lemme get this order back to Tony and grab your food.” She didn’t wait for a response. She turned the ticket in to Tony, refilled waters in the back dining room, and run out a couple. Only after she grabbed Zeke’s plate to bring it out to him did she return to him.
“Did the café jump again last night?” he asked with a smile. He motioned to the seat across from him.
“Yes.” Grace either didn’t understand that he was inviting her to join him, didn’t have time, or didn’t care.
“Do you know where you went?” He appeared very eager. A couple other customers turned their heads to look over at him.
“Shh!” Grace scolded him and sat down across from him. She leaned in, whispering, “Willard, Utah. We had a view of the Great Salt Lake.”
“That’s out of state!” He spoke in an excited whisper.
“Yes, Utah is out of state.” Grace spoke with sarcasm, but smiled.
He leaned back and smirked at her. “Where’s your map?”
“It’s here. I haven’t posted it yet.” She nodded toward the register end of the restaurant.
“Why not?” He fired at her.
She looked at him stoically. “My brother’s threatening to shut me down.”
“What does he have to do with it?” He shrugged.
“He’s the co-owner.” Grace’s tone of voice was flat, as if she could care less.
“Leaving you as the other co-owner?” Both of Zeke’s eyebrows flew up his face.
Grace let out a breath like a laugh and rolled her eyes. “You’re about as sharp as they come, aren’t you? Where you going to school?” She looked at his textbooks, now shoved to the far side of the table to make room for the meatball sandwich.
“Gonzaga, where else?” He gave her a lopsided grin.
Charming.
Grace shrugged, “I’m still fairly new around here, so I can think of half a dozen other places.”
His cockiness fled his face. “Well, Gonzaga’s north of the river. I’m an engineering student.”
“Really? My brother is an engineer.” Grace almost sounded interested.
“Wow, what a coincidence; you should introduce us.” Zeke was excitement himself.
“Nope.” Smiling, Grace stood up and returned to work.
“What? No?” Zeke called over the back of his booth with an arm over the tall divider. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to tattle,” said Grace as she entered the kitchen.
Tony was busy at work with Anthony doing dishes at the moment.
“Everything all right?” he asked. For good reason, Grace didn’t usually cross the kitchen threshold when Tony was on duty. Manners.
She took a deep breath and looked out the warming window at the customers. “Just some yay-who asking questions about the shifts.”
“Work shifts?” Tony checked the fries.
“No, location shifts,” Grace clarified. Her hands were on her hips.
“What’s a yay-who?” Anthony asked, drying his hands after just washing them.
Grace smiled. “I don’t know, but it’s a word... I don’t know where I heard it...”
“Anyway,” said Tony, wiping his hands on his apron, “want me to get rid of him?”
Grace rubbed her brow for a moment. “Nah,” she sighed. “He’s a paying customer. I’ll handle it.”
She left the kitchen and Anthony whispered to Tony, “Then why’d she come in here then?”
“You gotta understand women,” said Tony, “sometimes they just need to talk.”
“Yeah, like you’re a pro,” said Anthony sarcastically.
“Hey,” said Tony pointing a wooden spoon at his nephew, “Don’t be dissin’ my skills... and respect your elders.”
Anthony snorted out a laugh at the last line, and Tony just shook his head.
If Tony were to achieve his revenge, it wouldn’t be at work.

As the relatives bantered in the kitchen, Grace approached Zeke in the dining car. “So what’s your interest in the café?”
“Well, it’s not every day that you find something that can’t be explained. If I could get to the bottom of it, I could write my master’s thesis on it.”
It was a sly line, would Grace find it intriguing or flattering?
“Oh, so you’re a graduate student?” Her voice betrayed interest.
“Well, not yet,” he laughed, “but by the time I get to the bottom of it, I should be. I’m real close to graduating. Might do it this semester.”
“Ah,” said Grace, as if she had unearthed a murder plot, “a motive.”
“Well,” Zeke continued brazenly, “and any chance to see kitchen staff here at the café is always welcome.”
“You have a crush on our cook?” Grace winced, putting on an obvious act. “I hate to break your heart; he’s married.”
“Oh, no, I don’t swing that way.” Zeke laughed, without even the slightest tinge of discomfort.
“Oh, then you must be speaking of the dishy. He may not find you quite his type.”
Zeke rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You just don’t take a compliment, do you?”
“I’m not kitchen staff.” She didn’t flinch.
“Oh, my mistake. I should have said that I would welcome any chance to see the wait staff.”
“Oh, I see.” But that was as far as Grace was willing to comment.
Zeke laughed uncomfortably. Grace sure did know what she was doing; and smiled blandly, as if she were used to this sort of attention. Someone came in the front and her attention shifted. “Well, nice talking to ya’”
She walked off to seat the customer. When she was finished, Zeke flagged her down again.
“How’s your food,” she asked. “Anything else I can get you?”
“Would you make a note of the time, every time you jump? That would be very helpful. I think I could learn about the timing of the café that way.”
“Yeah, I could do that,” Grace said with a bland smile. She plopped his check down on the table and walked away.
Zeke was ready to leave a few minutes later, and packed his textbooks up. He took his ticket to the cash register after plopping some coins down on the table where he sat. Glancing around the restaurant, he grabbed tip money off another table and plodded it down next to his own. He strolled to the register after that, using a relaxed pace.
Grace rang him out, but he didn’t make any more attempts at small talk.
And neither did she.
Train Trax 21
Wednesday of Opening Week could only be described as bizarre.
Before work, Jackie stopped by. He came in before Grace and turned on the radio. When she came in, Jackie was singing along with the music while practicing his out-of-sync drumming on the countertop with a couple of butter knives, “Into marvelous light, I’m running... out of darkness, out of shame... by the cross, you are the truth you are the life you are the way... Lift my hands and spin around, see the light that I have found, oh the marvelous light, marvelous light... sin has lost its power, death has lost its sting...”
“Turn that crap off,” quipped Grace. “What are you doing here so early?”
“I’m just checking on everything...” A giant rumble frightened the poor man, who took a seat, but immediately sprung up to look outside. On one side was a highway near the train tracks. Above them in magnificent splendor were high mountains; mountains that made the Cascades look cheesy.
“Where—are—we?” Grace whispered.
Jack shook his head for a moment before he could answer her. His eyes we