Oil & Ink

Chapter 8: Truck Stop for Sale

Sara got off work at 6 and was physically exhausted. Between the constant stream of ringing up customers and straightening the racks, it had been a tiring couple of shifts. She zoned out during her drive home and was relieved when she pulled into the long driveway.

Walking toward the backdoor, she could already smell dinner on the stove. Her family wasn't always able to eat together, but they made more of an effort to on Sunday nights. She walked through the mud room and into the kitchen, where her mom was stirring red sauce in a pan. Her dad was sitting at the island reading the paper from that morning.

"Hey there," he said, looking up at Sara with only his eyes.

"Hi," she said, breathing out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"How was work?" her mom asked, her body facing the stove, but her face turned toward Sara.

"It was good," Sara said. "Another busy day."

"Well, that's good, right?" her mom asked.

Sara walked over to the stove and saw spaghetti in a tall pot in the back, the red meat sauce her mom was stirring, and she guessed garlic bread in the oven. A common dinner in their house. It wasn't her favorite, but the sauce was very good.

"Yeah, it makes the shift go by fast," Sara said.

"Honey," she said, still stirring. "Didn't you say you ran into Hank the other day?"

Sara's dad put his paper completely down to look at both of them.

"Yeah, he was at Dina's when I went to grab lunch," he said. "I talked to him for a few minutes."

"What'd he say?" Sara asked.

Hank was hardly ever in the store when she was working. He was always nice when she saw him, but she really didn't know much about him. Sara's dad grew up in the area and so did Hank. They knew each other from continuously running into each other over the years.

"He said the place had picked up for the season," her dad said. "Said he had a corporate guy interested in buying the place."

"In buying Tucker's?" Sara swallowed and stared at her dad.

"Well," he said. "He hadn't gotten a formal offer, but a guy's been visiting businesses around town, sizing them up. Guess he stopped by the diner, too."

The guy in the pressed khakis from the other morning. It had to be him.

"But... is Tucker's even for sale?" she asked.

"I don't think he actually put it up for sale," he said. "But if someone walks into a business and offers a bunch of money..."

He drifted off. Sara wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but it felt like a bad one. She sometimes heard people talk about corporations "taking over" and it was never celebrated by locals.

"What would Hank do if he sold Tucker's?" Sara asked.

"Well, he'd probably retire," her dad said. "He's owned that store for decades and for the right number, he could live comfortably and not have to work."

Sara chewed on her bottom lip. Her mom drained the spaghetti and pulled the pan of sliced bread out from the oven.

"Can you get the plates?" her mom asked her.

Without speaking, Sara grabbed plates and silverware and set them on the island for everyone to serve themselves.

"There was a man that came in the other morning asking for Hank," Sara said. "I bet that was him."