Free Finding Grace by Becky Citra Page A

to go to university.”
    She takes another breath and looks expectant, as if we’re supposed to say something. Mom winks at me and murmurs, “University. That’s impressive.”
    â€œFirst in the family. Gonna be a veter’narian.” Daphne sticks out her hand. “I’m Daphne.”
    â€œFlora,” Mom says. “And this is my daughter, Hope.”
    Daphne eyes my plate. “You’re cleaning that up fast. Want some more hash browns?”
    I control the urge to burp. “No, thank you.”
    â€œThis is very kind of you to open early for us,” Mom says.
    Daphne shrugs. “Makes no never-you-mind to me. I’m here anyway. And it’s nice to have someone to talk to. The hubby,” Daphne jerks her head towards the kitchen, “he’s baking that bread you smell and he don’t say nothing ’til after lunch and then he don’t say more than ten words. He don’t start really talking ’til ten o’clock at night, and then I’m worn out and you can’t shut him up.”
    Daphne heaves to her feet. “Time to make the coleslaw. I’ll get you some more coffee and hot chocolate. You set here as long as you want. Two mites like you don’t take up any space.”
    Mom sips her coffee slowly like she’s not in a hurry to go anywhere. At seven, Daphne turns the sign around in the door so it says Open . The café fills up quickly, mostly with men in work clothes and muddy boots.
    â€œLoggers,” Daphne says as she scurries past with plates of food. “They know they can get a decent meal here.”
    And I mean scurries . For such a large woman, Daphne can move fast.
    Mom watches her for a few minutes and then the next thing I know, she’s up on her feet, getting the coffee pot from the counter and pouring coffee for the loggers.
    My mouth drops open.
    The loggers like Mom and she kind of flirts back with them, but I know it doesn’t mean anything.
    When the last one is gone and there’s a lull, Mom pays our bill and Daphne says, “You can come anytime, Flora. You’re good for business.”
    When we get out to the sidewalk, the sun is shining and the lake sparkles like it is made out of tiny diamonds.
    Mom says, “That was fun. I haven’t waitressed for years.”
    She sounds so happy. If only it would last.

Chapter Twenty
    We end up having all our meals at the Top Notch Café. Mom says The Copper Room in the hotel is too expensive, but I think she likes hanging out with Daphne.
    Granny would have said that Daphne could talk the hind end off a donkey. When the café is quiet, Daphne sits with us and chats. Over breakfast waffles, lunchtime bowls of homemade vegetable soup, and suppers of shepherd’s pie, we hear all about the comings and goings of the village.
    We hear about the post office lady who likes sherry, and shy Mrs. Wilkins who left her husband for an encyclopedia salesman, and Grandma Bell, who isn’t really anyone’s grandmother and who is losing her marbles, and Daphne’s hubby Fred, who was born with one ear.
    This is the best story of all and I’m dying to see Fred, but he stays hidden in the kitchen, banging pots and pans and sometimes hollering at Daphne.
    When it’s busy, Mom gets up and helps with the coffee or clears dirty dishes from the tables.
    Daphne says she hates charging us, what with Mom being such a help, but Mom says we won’t eat for free, so we get complimentary desserts: chocolate sundaes, apple pie à la mode (which is French and means with ice cream), and pineapple upside-down cake.
    In between meals at the Top Notch, Mom shuts the curtains and lies down on the big bed in our room or sits on a bench across from the hotel, gazing at the lake. I borrow one of the bicycles from the hotel and ride around and around the village, hunting for Grace.
    By the third day, I’ve about given up.
    The bike is a pain in the