A Dahlia Amongst the Daisies and Marigolds

First Meeting

"Now remember, stay close and don't do anything stupid." Paloma's grandfather says as they step off the train. "Give me the suitcases, I can carry them."

"No, your knee is bad, remember? I'll carry it." Paloma insists as she grabs both suitcases. "It's why you brought me along, I'm the strongest of the grandkids."

"And the oldest and unmarried."

"Yes thank you for reminding me of that."

"Well perhaps with some luck, maybe we can find you a nice American husband, a Catholic one of course. Perhaps a nice Irish boy from a good religious family, some of my cousins managed to have families in America, perhaps we can find one here and they can help us set you up with a nice boy."

With my luck he won't be so nice. Paloma thinks as she hoists the bags a bit higher to make it easier to carry them.

She never thought someday she'd be traveling by train with her grandfather into Missouri, for whatever reason aside from the talk of finding her a nice boy from an Irish catholic family. But the ride was exhausting, and she was finally glad to be on solid ground instead of a moving train.

"We should get food, how much do we have?" Paloma heard her grandfather ask. "You didn't lose our funds did you?"

"Nope, right here in my purse." Paloma lifts the leather satchel she had carrying the coin purse and wallet containing their money. "Never losing it."

"Good girl, now let's find a proper place to eat and I can give you another lesson in English."

Once they exited the train station, they made their way down the street before arriving at a small cafe.

"Alright we can eat here for now." The older man says as they enter before yelling something in English. A woman behind the counter yells something back before gesturing to the counter where several chairs were.

"So...what can I get?" Paloma asks her grandfather as they take a seat near a man with glasses who was reading a newspaper.

"Anything, no alcohol though." He responds.

"I don't drink."

"Good. Here, have a menu and put your English lessons to use."

Paloma accepts the thick piece of paper with whatever was listed as the meals of the cafe. She recognized the words eggs, coffee, pancakes, juice, milk, olives, waffles and that was it. She could ask for waffles, the ones on the train tasted weird but perhaps some fresh ones from here would taste more delicious.

"Umm...waffles...juice." She says hesitantly to the woman. "¿Por favor?"

The woman gave her a puzzled look at looks to her grandfather, who says something before she nods and heads into the kitchen.

"Sorry, I tried." Paloma says quietly.

"It's okay, you at least tried." Her grandfather assured her. "Just keep practicing, I'm not always going to be here to translate."

Paloma nods before reaching into the large bag they had their clothes and books in and draws out an old familiar one with a worn spine. She proceeds to read, getting lost in the story of her favorite vigilante hero who was busy exposing a bunch of corrupt rich lords.

"Will you put that book down for once? I swear out of all the grandkids, you always have your snout up a book!" Her grandfather scolds and Paloma looks up to see him frowning at her. "Some days instilling that love of reading in you kids was a mistake."

"Oh but it's at the good part! He's about to reveal his secret identity to the lady he fancies!"

"Eat your waffles first, then fawn over those two fictional characters when you are done. Your food is right there on the table."