After an hour and a half involving two cds, a ten minute battle over the radio, one horrible off key rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody (thanks to her daddy's falsetto), three rock paper scissor battles over control of the windows and cooling system, and one twenty minute tirade over the necessity of fake ball sacks on truck hitches, they pulled into a truck stop appropriately entitled Franny June's.

Franny June was exactly one inch shorter than Rachel. She admired her for her impeccable self confidence and canny business acumen. She had a head full of obviously dyed, permed black hair, always wore bright red lipstick, and had at least ten long, curling chin whiskers. She seemed to have a new one every year. It was always a fantastic surprise, also was whether or not she would have her teeth in, and, if she did, which pair. Rachel had seen three different sets over the span of eleven years.

First, there was the standard set. A perfectly nice set of teeth that one couldn't tell apart from natural except for their perfection. The next pair were either gold or gold plated. She'd told Rachel she wore them when she was feeling fancy or exceptionally lucky. Lastly, her most disturbing pair, was a set made of, or so she claimed, the actual teeth from her favorite horse. They looked just slightly off, enough to make one feel unsettled and not know why. She called them her biting teeth and Rachel had seen grown men cower in fear when she was wearing them. Alas, Rachel had never had the opportunity to actually see her bite anyone. It was number twelve on her list of things to do before she, or Franny, died.

With pep in her step, Rachel practically floated into the truck stop. She chirped a bright thank you to the trucker, a large man with a tiny kitten on his shoulder, who held the door open for her. The iconic and utterly unforgettable Franny June was behind the glass counter with a candy cigarette dangling between her lips as she marked something in a very old ledger book. She had one new chin whisker so long it split at the ends.

"Showers are free when you pay in cash for fuel. 10% off in the diner as long as you buy forty gallons."

"I apologize, Miss Franny, our vehicle doesn't hold that much fuel, but we will happily pay full price for a delicious, cruelty free breakfast from your fine dining establishment."

Franny looked up, a wild smile stretching across her face. She was wearing her biting teeth.

"Well, if it isn't Ohio's prettiest little cardinal!" She laughed and put her cigarette behind her ear. "I hate to tell you, sweetie, but not a single bit of that breakfast is cruelty free. Hans says I'm the cruelest woman he's ever known and that I'm cruel to him every single day. Not even those funny pancakes of yours are safe."

Her daddy's deep laughter rang through the store as he came up to the counter. "Miss Franny, I don't imagine you have a single cruel bone in your body.

"Elias, my favorite officer! How is that fancy doctor husband of yours?"

"As fussy and brilliant as always. He had an emergency surgery today so he couldn't come with us. He sends his regards."

"I'll catch him on the Chrismachannukah visit then. Well, come on over to the diner and take a seat. Steak and eggs, medium, baked beans, three pieces of smoked sausage, grits, and a pot of coffee for you, and a stack of funny pancakes covered in bananas, strawberries, and peanut butter, a glass of orange juice and a glass of water for the little birdy?"

"Yes, please," Rachel beamed.

Miss Franny nodded and headed to the back with a loud call of "Hans!" as she did so.

Rachel settled into their typical booth across from her daddy and wiggled impatiently. "Well?"

Elias carefully unwrapped his silverware, pointedly not looking at Rachel. "Do you mean a well as in a water well or well as in a state of being? Because I'm doing well, thank you, but I'm not sure where the nearest well is."

"Daddy," Rachel absolutely did not whine.

His mouth twitched, hiding a grin, "Yes, my strange little lamb?"

Rachel blew her straw wrapper at him. It was a trick he'd taught her their very first visit here. It drove her dad absolutely mad. He had the audacity to laugh.

Franny came by with their drinks, dropping off a carafe of coffee, an ancient mug, and a tiny metal pitcher of cream for her father and a large plastic glass of water and a glass tumbler full of orange juice for Rachel.

"Now, you'd better warm up those pipes. I've picked out a good song for you to sing this year. I might finally stump you."

"Ooo, do I get a hint?" Rachel asked excitedly.

"No," Franny replied, winking at Elias as Rachel predictably pouted.

The bell on the door clattered, and Franny shook her head. "You two enjoy your breakfast now."

With surprising swiftness, she walked back toward her glass counter.

Rachel turned her pout toward Elias.

"After I finish my coffee," he conceded.

Rachel sighed dramatically. She couldn't complain, however, because at least he wasn't making her wait for two cups. That would be absolutely unbearable. Just as he was getting down to the last drugs of his cup, Hans came out with two platters piled high. Hans was a simple man. An ex-convict, he had some of the most poorly drawn tattoos she had ever seen. Particularly the lazy eyed cherub using the restroom. But he made truly delicious food. He was soft spoken and when Rachel had nearly cried when she realized by going vegan there was nothing filling on the menu she could eat, he'd given her a few extra napkins and asked if she had a recipe. She did and he jotted it down carefully on a steno pad, took it back, and came out with the best vegan pancakes she had ever eaten. Really, the most scandalous thing about him was that he was Franny's fourth husband, despite being her daddy's age.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, smiling brightly as he plopped down a platter 6 pancakes high, peanut butter spread between each one, and absolutely loaded down with fresh strawberries and bananas.

Hans smiled and then glanced over his shoulder at Franny. He whispered conspiratorially, "A rough empress, that's your clue." He shared a friendly handshake with Elias and made a beeline back to the kitchen.

Rachel's mind buzzed with possibilities, focusing on the empress part of the clue first. Elias nudged the pancakes in her direction and she started eating as her mind whirred. There were many queens she could think of, but an empress? That was much harder. Empress made her think of someone who was elegant, classy, and the absolute best at what she did. But a rough empress? She was stumped. She was brought out of her stupor by laughter.

She looked at her daddy and frowned.

He shook his head as his laughter petered out. "I'll need to tip Hans extra, slipping you that clue so I could sneak a second cup of coffee in."

"Trickery and deceit! How could you, Daddy?" Rachel cried.

Elias smiled over the rim of her third cup, "Oh, so very easily, Rachel, so very easily."

Rachel tossed her hair over her shoulder and refused to look at him. She caught sight of her pancakes and was surprised she'd eaten over half of them already. Elias continued to sip his coffee and work his way through his third piece of sausage. Finally, Rachel gave in.

"Well?" She prodded, "Where are we going today? What's the itinerary? Did I forget something? You should have given me hints. I do better with hints, Daddy. I could have made a color coded hour by hour calendar and–"

"Which is exactly why I never tell you until breakfast is nearly done. Every year," He reminded her, highly amused.

"One cannot receive what they want unless they first make an effort to retrieve it," Rachel pronounced politely.

Elias finally put his coffee cup down. "Fine. I'll tell you. But it's mostly the same every year."

"That's not true! We don't go to the toy store anymore, and, despite my petite frame, I have graduated to the young women's section. And we go to Woodhouse now instead of Le Peep. We've also switched from Vera to Ira for my hair–"

"Vera died. She was 91."

"And! You always plan at least one thing that I can never guess."

"I suppose I do," Elias smiled softly.

Rachel beamed. "Am I allowed to know yet?"

Elias grabbed his butter knife and drew an imaginary map on the table and began to gesture.

"First, Mr. Wheelock's, for your tiny feet. Then we'll head to the Easton Town Center and hit the department stores, and any other stores you want to look at."

"I may try the more 'gamer' type stores. I do enjoy the occasional subtle geeky thing. And, as Noah is visiting more, I would like to peruse some of the multi-player games I have dismissed in the past."

"Rachel, you like geeky things all the time, you just tend to keep it quiet."

"I'm not certain if I keep it quiet, or if people simply look over me, seeing what they think I am, not who I actually am."

Elias sighed and he reached across the table to pat her arm, "It's a tough thing, kiddo. But I think there are at least a few people now who are beginning to see you as you really are."

Rachel perked up, "Yes. I think so too. So the Center?"

"And that's where we'll catch lunch. Then to the stationary shop, then off to the Ohio Theatre to see the matinee showing of 'Follies.'"

"Oh Daddy, you didn't! So many of the songs are becoming iconic already. I can't believe it's showing here in Ohio. Is it a traveling circuit or is it a local group putting it on?"

"I'm not sure," Elias admits.

"I look forward to it no matter the performers!"

"Good, because after that we're going to get your hair tended to. Ira moved to a new shop, it's a little deeper down town, next to several spas. I have your appointment set for four. You can decide what you want done, as always. After that we will be dining at Woodhouse–" Rachel clapped excitedly–"and our last stop for the evening–"

"Wait, we're doing something else? So late? Does Dad know?"

"Of course he knows," Elias chuckled, "Now, I'm asking you to keep an open mind."

Rachel narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Elias surged on.

"A good memory I have with my own father is going to watch baseball games with him. At least two every summer. He'd load up all of us, stuffed onto the bench seat of his truck and the truck bed. We'd all get bags of peanuts and we paired up to share a hot dog," He shook his head, his eyes suspiciously misty. "I know we've only recently become a semi-sporty family, but I'd like to recreate that memory with you."

"Minus the illegal number of people in the car?"

"Yes, Rachel. And we don't have to eat hot dogs, but peanuts are a must."

"I am nervous about the number of beer-imbibing individuals and the percentage of chance that I may be hit by a flying projectile, but I'd be honored."

Elias smiled broadly.

"Now there's that handsome smile," Franny June called as she made her way over, an old cassette player in her hand. "Alright, little songbird. Are you ready? Hans! She's ready!"

Rachel took the time to take a few sips of water as Hans peeked out from the back.

"Do your worst, Miss Franny!"

Franny's bony finger hit the play button and it whirred to life. After a few moments, smooth notes of jazz came out of the player, soon followed by a beautiful contralto.

Once I lived the life of a millionaire…

The lyrics tickled Rachel's memory. It wasn't Ella Fitzgerald. Someone else.

Bought bootleg liquor, champagne, and wine…

Bootleg, Bootleggers, Prohibition, 20's, rought, something rough, an empress… Empress of the Blues?

"Bessie!" Rachel called out excitedly, "Bessie Smith! Nobody knows you when you're down and out!" She took a deep breath and began to sing along. It was on the lower end of her range and she wasn't sure she could do it true justice, but she belted her heart out.

Hans whistled when the song was done and Miss Franny had a look of rapture on her face. She shook herself lightly.

"Well, I guess you don't have to help Hans with the dishes now."

Rachel cheered.

"You two go on and get out of here," Franny shooed them, "I know you have a day full of shopping."

"I have to pay the bill, yet," Elias pointed out.

"How long have I told you your money isn't good here," Franny tsked.

"How long have I told you that I'll just slip it to Hans?" Elias countered.

"Fine, I'll take it, but there'd better not be a tip!"

"Of course not," Elias agrees.

Franny took the money, grumbling as she headed back to her counter. Elias took out a twenty and hid it under the napkin dispenser, exchanging a look with Hans. Hans gave him a thumbs up.

As they left the truckstop and Franny June behind, Rachel wondered how the day could possibly be better than it already was.