Chapter 3. Small Town
House walked slowly back to the diner. His food was waiting for him, just as he left it, although it was beginning to get cold. Still, it was tasty. As he ate, he wondered what was wrong with Pete. From there it was an easy leap to wondering what Cameron might be doing working in a clinic in this town. And why was he so uncomfortable about seeing her if it was really Cameron he'd heard? He'd always found it easy to manipulate conversations with her. He knew just the right buttons to push to fluster her, like a schoolgirl when her favorite teacher pays her some attention, any attention. It wasn't like him to avoid a confrontation, but he knew he'd have a harder time deflecting any questions she'd ask than he used to in the past. They'd both changed, and, therefore, their relationship had too.
He thought about their last conversation before she left. She'd come to say good-bye, but more than that, to tell him off. All of her illusions about him were gone. She'd begun to consider him the devil incarnate, and claimed he corrupted everyone around him. She, more than anyone, had judged him and found him wanting. Had her condemnation of him increased his desire to reach out to people? How can I ever convince her I've been doing better? he wondered. Not that I'll have a chance.
He was surprised to find that he'd finished the lasagna and salad. He stood and went behind the long counter to get more coffee. He'd already lifted the carafe when he decided he could use a beer after all. He wasn't going anywhere until morning, not that he was too averse to drinking and driving. He'd done it before. But he'd stuck to coffee to keep himself awake. Now there didn't seem a point. He also helped himself to a slice of pecan pie from the display case. "Put it on my tab," he told no one in particular.
As he walked by Pete's table on the way back to his own, he snatched the newspaper Pete had been reading. Nothing made him smile like a small-town newspaper, full of the everyday goings on of a closed community. It would provide a good distraction from the thoughts he wasn't ready to face. He sat back down with his beer, his pie and the paper.
The newspaper didn't disappoint. It seemed that the Main Street merchants were petitioning city hall to repair the sidewalks, saying the cracking pavement was discouraging shoppers. The reporter speculated that they just didn't want to be sued by anyone who tripped outside their establishments. The Mayor's favorite cow had been found wandering down Highway 4 in the middle of Monday afternoon. The high school girls' softball team had trounced the team from Fair Haven, but the boys hadn't been so successful, losing their baseball game to Littleton.
When he was done with it, House returned the paper to where he'd found it. He debated about taking his plates, mug and cutlery back to the kitchen, but knew no one would expect him to.
He walked back out into the cool evening air. Leaving his car parked by the diner, since he'd be leaving from there after breakfast in the morning, he grabbed his leather jacket and put it on, and took the gym bag from the trunk before walking over to the motel office. A row of motel rooms extended perpendicular to the office toward the road.
It appeared that Mo was a part owner of the motel, too. It was called the Mo-Zee Inn, and had a sign similar in design to that for the restaurant, only this one depicted a man in bed under a patchwork quilt, snoring away, and underneath it read 'and get a good night's sleep'. House expected he'd find out who 'Zee' was as he opened the door and walked in.
A tall man with a full face, bright blue eyes and a head full of graying brown hair looked over from the Washington Nationals ballgame he was watching from his chair behind the counter. "Evenin'," he said. "Need a room for the night?"
"Yes," House replied. "Mo sent me."
"She did, did she? 'Xpect that means I have to give you the Presidential Suite." He looked at a board behind him, and selected a keycard from a slot. "Number Twelve. Right next to the office, and the closest to the diner. I'm Zach. I'll be here an hour or so more if you need anything." He handed House a form to fill out and ran his credit card.
Soon House was walking into a typical motel room. He noticed that the bed had a patchwork quilt similar to the one on the sign and smiled. He dropped his bag on top of the dresser and opened the bathroom door, as he began to remove his clothes.
The bathroom was clean and bright with a pile of fluffy white towels waiting on a wall rack and miniature toiletries on the counter by the sink. House glanced at his face in the mirror. He looked as tired as he felt. A quick hot shower relaxed some of the muscles that ached from the long drive and the effort it took to help with getting Pete to the clinic.
When he'd dried himself with one of the towels, happily oversized, he pulled on a clean T-shirt and sleep pants, then crawled into the comfortable bed. He slept better than he had in a long while.
When he woke, he was dreaming about a waterfall, but soon realized it was rain, pounding on the roof of the building as well as the pavement outside his room.
"Damn!" he exclaimed, but mentally congratulated himself for taking the car instead of the bike. He showered and dressed, packed the few items he'd taken out, and limped the short distance to his car to stow the bag in his trunk.
By the time he entered the diner and took the same booth as the night before, he was drenched and cold. His leather jacket hadn't helped much and he shook it to shed some of the rain. He was surprised to see Linda back again, waiting on a couple sitting at the counter. A teenage girl was pouring coffee for some of the other patrons.
"Good morning!" the kid said brightly as she turned over his mug and filled it with steaming hot java without being asked. She was tall, and wore the pink shirt with the diner's logo to better advantage than Linda.
"Not very good," House said, looking pointedly at the rain streaming down the window.
She chuckled. "You must be the guy who helped Mom and Aunt Linnie last night."
House chuckled too. He already had a rep with these folks. "I'll have the scrapple." He'd seen that on the menu the night before. It had been a long time since he'd had any. They must get a fair share of Pennsylvanians coming through.
"How did you want your eggs?" she asked.
"Scrambled will do."
"White or wheat?"
Would the questions never end? "You got rye?" There, he'd got one in too.
She nodded and smiled, then walked off to place his order.
House couldn't help overhear Linda talking to the couple at the counter. "Doc still doesn't know what's wrong with Pete, or her other patient, Buddy Eldridge's cousin Harry."
"We wondered why Pete wasn't out on his boat this morning, but figured it was the weather," the woman said. "'Course, that was before it really started raining."
"They say it's gonna be a big one," the man said. The couple wore matching sweatshirts and jeans along with boat shoes. Slickers sat on the chairs next to them.
Linda finally left them and came over to House's table. "Did Chrissy get your order?"
"If you mean a tall, blond teenage girl, then yes," House replied. "I'm surprised you're in already this morning."
"Oh, I work the eight to ten-thirty shift, then the 'leven to two, and the five to seven. The only reason Chrissy wasn't here last night was softball practice. She works before and after school."
It was more information than House needed, but he let her babble while he waited for his food.
"You still fixin' to head south today?" Linda finally asked.
He nodded.
"You know you'll be ridin' right into that big ole hurricane," she warned. "Alberto they're calling it."
He hadn't known, but now he had another thing to add to the 'stay' column on the whiteboard in his head. It was becoming much longer than the 'go' list.