Free Pie Town by Lynne Hinton Page A

loss for words. He stood by the counter, shifting his weight from side to side. He slid his hands into his pockets. “Okay, I guess we’ll be seeing you all.” And he waved at everyone, grabbed his umbrella by the door, and headed out into the parking lot. He stopped and waited until the two strangers Alex had seen earlier were getting out of the car. He held up his umbrella near the door while the driver emerged. A man stood up next to Bernie, receiving the shelter from the rain while the passenger jumped out and ran to the door of the diner. She waited for the driver.
    “You think Bernie’s going to tell them to go somewhere else?” Alex asked.
    “Not if he wants to eat here again,” Bea replied, watching the two in the parking lot. She closed the register and headed back into the kitchen.
    Roger turned around to see the strangers. He watched the young woman as she stood near the door. She stretched her arms high above her head, her T-shirt rising, exposing her stomach. He glanced over at Francine, who looked down at him, lifting her eyebrows. Roger smiled and turned back to watch as the driver stepped out from under the umbrella. Because of the black shirt and the clerical collar, it was immediately clear he was a priest, and Roger and Francine looked at each other again, this time both of them raising an eyebrow. The priest shook hands with Bernie and headed toward the front door.
    “You think that’s the new guy?” Alex asked, referring to the priest. Everyone in town had expected him to arrive sometime that month.
    “I suspect so,” Roger replied.
    “Seems young,” Alex commented. “At least younger than Father Joseph.”
    “Honey, God is younger than Father Joseph,” Francine responded.
    Roger studied the two newcomers as they stood outside under the awning at the front door, the priest waving to Bernie. “You’re right, he does look green behind the ears, and he has a pretty young passenger traveling with him, don’t you think?” He turned back around and winked at the waitress, who was still watching the three people outside. “Wonder what Father Joseph would say about those two?” he asked.
    “Shoot, Father Joseph’s eyesight is so bad, he wouldn’t be able to tell which one was his replacement if they were standing right in front of him.” Francine shook her head. She glanced down at Alex. “You want a little cherry soda with your lemonade?”
    Alex smiled. “Yes, thank you,” he responded.
    Francine nodded and walked behind the counter to the beverage station. “Order up,” she called out to Fred as she placed the order at the counter that was the opening to the kitchen. “The sheriff’s grandson wants extra dumplings.”
    Fred walked over to pick up Francine’s order. “I got hot sopaipillas too, Alex,” he called out to his favorite customer.
    Alex backed up his wheelchair and turned around to face the restaurant owner. “Thank you, Fred,” he said. “You’re the best.”
    “You save a sopaipilla for me?” Roger asked.
    “You get tortillas like everybody else,” Fred replied. “I don’t want to be accused of trying to bribe the sheriff.”
    “Nobody has to know, Fred,” Roger replied.
    “I’ll know,” Alex chimed in. “And I will talk.”
    “Sorry, Roger,” Fred said. “Can’t afford to get busted. No sopai-pillas.”
    Roger smiled as Alex readjusted his chair under the table. Francine brought over their drinks just as the priest and his passenger entered the diner, shaking the rain from their hair and wiping their feet.
    Roger watched his grandson as the boy followed the pair with his eyes. “It’s not polite to stare, son,” he noted.
    Alex kept watching the two.
    “Alex,” Roger called out his name, trying to get the boy to look away from the strangers.
    “She looks a little like Mom,” Alex said softly, as if he was talking to himself, as if he had been expecting someone, but just not her.
    Roger studied his grandson and then glanced over to