The restaurant looked exactly how I remembered it. The two story building had its own private garden dining area in the front with a black iron fence, gating it in. There were some customers sitting out there now, enjoying their breakfast before heading off to work or school. A dark green awning hung out from the building, shielding these customers from the morning sun. Across the awning in bright white, block letters spelt out the name of the name of the restaurant and my last name: Moody's.
I got out of my car, a black nineteen-seventy Buick, and approached the restaurant that my uncle had owned. The car had also been his; it seemed almost everything I owned now had once belonged to either him, or my parents. I entered the dark inside of the restaurant and was met by a blast of cold air. I remembered being six years old and watching my dad install that air conditioner. He had thought that customers would like it if they could cool off right when they got inside.
While the outside of the restaurant hadn't changed at all, the inside seemed nicer and cleaner than I remembered. The booth cushions had apparently been replaced and polished. There wasn't a speck of dust or debris anywhere on the floor. Uncle Vince obviously picked up the slack when my family left.
"Ma'am?" A familiar Southern drawl said from behind the bar. I looked over to see Shelly Singer, a fifty-something year old woman who had worked at Moody's since I was little. "If you would go ahead and sit down anywhere you like, a waitress will be with you shortly."
I stepped up to the bar, suddenly feeling small. "Actually, I'm here to see Valerie. She's supposed to talk to me about..." I trailed off, not knowing how to say that because my uncle died, I now owned the place. Shelly's eyes widened as she looked at my face and her moth opened to make a perfect "O".
"My heavens," She muttered. "Suzy? Is that you?"
My face broke into a smile and I nodded. "It's nice to see you, Shelly." Shelly squealed with excitement and she hurried out from behind the counter. I laughed as she rushed to me to give me a big hug. I hugged her back. When Shelly let me go, she held me out at arm's length to get a good look at me.
"You've gotten taller," She said with a smile. "And you've dyed your hair!"
I scratched my head self-consciously. "Yeah, I wasn't up for being blond." Shelly's smile faltered a bit.
"I'm really sorry about Vince," She said sadly. "I know that you and your uncle were pretty close before y'all moved away." I nodded. A few of the customers were watching us with curiosity and I was reminded at the size of this town. By tomorrow, half the town would know that I was back.
Shelly must've read my mind because she glanced at customers and rushed me behind the counter and into the kitchen. I breathed in deeply: this had been my favorite place when I was younger and it still was just that. A large island stood in the middle of it, and at the moment it was strewn with ingredients for the omelets that I had seen some of the customers eating. And behind the grill, wielding a frying pan and spatula, was Valerie.
Valerie had just started to work when my family had decided to move away from Charming. I didn't remember her as much as I remembered Shelly, but I could remember one time when Valerie had let me help her bake the muffins for breakfast.
"Hey Val," Shelly said. "Look who's here!"
"If it's those damn bikers again, I'm gonna-" Whatever Valerie would do to those bikers, I didn't get to hear. She turned around and stopped speaking right upon sighting me. She stared at me for a while before recognizing me and breaking into a smile. "Well, isn't it little Suzie all grown up? How old are you now?"
"Twenty-two," I said, allowing Valerie to quickly hug me before she returned to the omelets before they burned. Shelly left to go answer the ringing phone, leaving me to wander around the kitchen.
"So what's been going on, sweet pea?" Valerie asked without looking at me. She was focusing on making the omelets.
I shrugged. "I've graduated college but now I'm completely broke. I got called in for the reading of Uncle Vince's will, and that was the first time I heard about him being dead: he and my parents weren't on the best of terms before we left. So, all in all, pretty crappy."
Valerie glanced at me from the grill, looking sorry. She removed the omelets from the heat and placed them on separate plates. "Sorry to hear that, I know that Vince always wanted you to take over this place."
"Honestly I'm thinking about working here for a few months and then selling it." I said honestly. Valerie gave me a sharp look.
"But this place was your uncle's life work! You're prepared to get rid of all that?"
"I'm not going to be selling it to a complete stranger!" I defended myself. "I'm gonna see if there's someone in town who'd want it. Someone who I know would take good care of this place." Valerie nodded but still looked vaguely annoyed. I took in the ovens behind me. "Do you guys use these often?"
Valerie followed my gaze and shook her head. "Only whenever we make muffins for breakfast. Your uncle was terrible at baking desserts." I snorted, remembering one time when he had tried to bake brownies with me. He had nearly set the kitchen on fire.
Shelly returned, looking nervous. "Um, Val, we better get some muffins in the oven." Valerie narrowed her eyes at Shelly. Shelly swallowed. "SAMCRO just called and a few of them will be here in about a hour."
"Who now?" I asked, feeling oddly left out and nervous all of a sudden.
"I imagine you were too young to remember SAMCRO." Valerie said. Then she turned to Shelly. "Make sure the other employees know it, we don't want them to try and stop them." Shelly nodded, her cheery self gone in a second. Valerie looked back at me. "Help me get the muffins ready."
I hurried and followed her to the walk-in pantry in the back where the ingredients were kept. Valerie headed straight for a cardboard box and she pulled out a bag of instant muffin mix.
"You guys use instant?" I asked in surprise. Valerie looked a little ashamed.
"Like I said, your uncle was horrible at baking, and so am I."
I did some fast thinking. "Um, what kind of muffins do these guys like?"
Valerie narrowed her eyes, thinking about it. "Blueberry and chocolate are the favorites." I took the instant mix from her hands and dumped it back in the cardboard box.
"No more instant," I said curtly. "Now help me find some baking powder, flour, vanilla extract, and salt" I left the pantry while Valerie hunted these ingredients down while I grabbed two eggs, milk, and (to my relief) blueberries from the refrigerator. Valerie placed her ingredients down on the island next to mine, and watched me pluck up a clean bowl. I noticed her staring. "Since we left I kinda got obsessed with baking and my mom hated using instant mixes, so we made just about everything from scratch."
Valerie continued her usual business as customers came and left. A few other employees came into the kitchen when they heard about me. I didn't recognize any of them and I struggled to remember their names as I busied myself with the muffins. Shelly shooed them all away, telling them to get with their jobs. The muffins were almost out of the oven when Valerie and I heard Shelly through the kitchen window.
"W-Well, hello there!" She said unnaturally loud, letting the whole restaurant know just how scared she was of the SAMCRO men that had just walked in. I couldn't make out the response, but it didn't matter cause the kitchen door opened with a snap and three of most intimidating men I had ever seen walked in.
The first one was built heavily, but you could tell by looking at him that it was all muscle. He had gray hair and a mustache to match. His blue eyes scanned the kitchen, resting on me for a moment before he turned to Valerie.
His companions weren't as built, but they could probably still knock anyone down. One had curly black hair and a mustache and small beard, and he was taller than the first biker and he completely towered over me. The last biker had dark brown, almost black hair that was graying and along scar that slashed through the side of his face. I shuddered at the idea of how he got that scar.
"Mornin' Valerie," The first biker said. His voice was a deep growl. Valerie narrowed her eyes and nodded curtly at him.
"Clay, we got the food baking right now," She said shortly. Clay sniffed the air and grinned.
"Smells better than usual," He said. That's when he fully noticed me standing by the ovens. He cocked his head to the side. "Who's this."
Before Valerie could answer, I cleared my throat. "Moody," I said. The two nameless bikers glanced at each other. But Clay remained expressionless, he was too busy scanning my face for what I knew what similarities to my uncle.
"Vince mentioned a niece." Clay said finally. "He's got a picture of you from high school graduation in his office." Without meaning to, I glanced in the direction of my uncle's office, which I had completely forgotten to go into. "You look like your dad, though. Except with dark hair."
The oven beeped and I stiffly retrieved the muffins from the oven, feeling all three bikers watching me closely. They had walked in here like they owned the place, did Uncle Vince make a deal with them before he died? I placed the hot tray on the island and saw that Clay was speaking to Valerie in a hushed voice. Then Valerie assigned one of the other kitchen employees to keep an eye on the stove before she and Clay went into my uncle's office. Meanwhile, the curly haired biker walked forward and tried to grab a muffin. Without thinking about the consequences, I slapped his hand away, making a loud snapping noise.
"Ow!" He said, rubbing his hand. He looked from his hand to me with mistrust and anger in his eyes. "What the hell was that for?" The biker behind him was containing fits of laughter.
"Force of habit," I said quickly. "If you mess with them too much before they've cooled, they can fall apart really easily." He continued glaring at me, as if trying to find something to say to that. "Do you want some ice?" I asked, despite the fact that I hadn't hit him that hard. The man's expression softened just a tad and he shook his head. He pushed himself up to sit on the island-top. I made a mental note to wipe down the counters as soon as these guys left.
"Do ya happen to have any water?" The biker in the back asked in a Scottish accent. I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and tossed it to him. He caught it and raised it up to me, as if giving cheers. "Name's Chibs, by the way. And the pouter sitting on your counter is Tig."
"Okay," I said, forcing myself to remember their names. It felt like it'd be important to remember them. Chibs nodded at me again and chugged a decent amount of his water. Tig remained sitting on the counter, glancing every so often at the tray of muffins. I spotted the cook at the stove watching them carefully. And then Shelly would glance in through the window to check on them.
Looking down at the muffins, I deemed that they were ready to be put into a to-go bag. I grabbed a fresh spatula and carefully removed one from the tray. Tig was watching with narrowed eyes that widened with surprise when I reached it out to hand to him. The fresh muffin hung in the air for a moment before Tig reached out and took it. I then went to find a bag large enough for the muffins while he bit into it.
"Holy shit," Tig said through a mouthful of blueberry muffin, sending bits of it onto the clean floor. The cook stared at the crumbs and then glared at Tig before turning his back on them completely. I returned with a to-go bag and began to pile the muffins into it. Tig stared at me, having just swallowed his first mouthful.
"These are different than usual," He said. "What did you do to make them better?"
I blinked at him. "I made them from scratch." I said simply. Tig stared at me as if I was going to tell him the elaborate process of making them better. Chibs strode forward and, with a wary glance at me, reached in the bag to get himself a muffin. But before he could begin to eat, Clay barged back into the kitchen.
"Put it back, Chibs, we'll eat it all at the club." Clay said with a disapproving glance at Tig, who had crumbs in his beard. Chibs gave Clay a look that said "are you kidding me?" but tossed the muffin into the bag anyway. He rolled the top of the bag down and took it, following Clay and Tig to the cash register. I walked to the window to see them pay.
Before they turned to walk out the door, Chibs glanced up and saw me watching. He raised his water bottle again (it was just about empty), and called out, "Thank you, Miss Moody."
Tig saw me too and repeated it, "Thank you, Miss Moody." Clay glanced between his club members and me before nodding at me. Shelly gave them their change with a very shaky hand, and the bikers left. I finally got a good look at the back of their leather vests.
Sons of Anarchy.