The Farmer's Son

Chapter 46 Warnings

The bell over the door chimed as it opened, the sound barely heard over the chatter of the lunchtime crowd filling the diner. Sunlight filtering in through the old glass windows at the front, mixed with steam from piping hot coffees and soups, to create the smokey atmosphere into which Noah, straw hat pulled low over his eyes, and Alan, coming up behind him, walked. Temperatures had dropped overnight, enough to leave a thin layer of frost on the truck windshield, and they were glad to step out of the cold and into the warmth.

Busy behind the counter, Maeve nevertheless spotted them the moment they entered, pausing long enough to catch their eyes and jerk her head towards the back of the dinner, an uncharacteristic sour look on her rouged face. Noah's gaze followed hers, then he gave her an upwards nod of thanks before leading the way to the very last booth. Tucked into the corner of the diner, beyond the end of the counter, someone was already sitting in the red vinyl seat. Seeing the back of the short, neatly combed salt and pepper hair above the stiff suit collar, Noah visibly tensed.

Alan put a hand on his father's shoulder and squeezed, both to restrain him and to propel him forwards. That morning, in the newly cleaned, still empty living room, Alan had finally told his father about the subsidiary job, and Noah had taken it stoically, as he usually took everything. To his surprise, though, Noah has asked to meet with Stilton.

"To ask some questions," Noah had said in a low voice. "Clear up any doubts. That's all."

Now, even though it had been his idea, Noah dug his heels in, Alan's hand on his shoulder the only thing moving him forwards. As they came into his view Stilton looked up, his face shifting from vaguely bored to pleasantly surprised upon recognition, and he quickly slipped out of his seat to shake Noah's hand.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Walker," Stilton said, smiling.

"Hm," Noah grunted.

Alan checked a sigh, but Stilton was unphased, and only smiled a little wider as he released Noah's hand to shake Alan's. He had dealt with Noah enough to not be surprised by the reception. "Please," he said, gesturing for a waitress, "order anything you'd like, my treat."

"Just coffee, Margaret," Noah said to the young lady, who was Maeve's eldest, as he slid into the seat across the table.

Stilton ordered a coffee for Alan, and another coffee and cheeseburger for himself. "My arteries may hate me for that, but my stomach will thank me," he said cheerfully.

"Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice," Alan said, settling beside his father on the outside of the booth seat.

"No thanks necessary," Stilton said. "I'm always happy to answer any questions. To be honest, it's actually not that uncommon for a parent to show concern about their child joining our program."

"That so?" Noah looked out at him from under the shadow of the straw hat, brown eyes shining with barely concealed hostility.

Stilton met the gaze head on, his face settling into a smile of understanding. "Unfortunately," he said. "And, if I may add, rather unfairly. They see us as luring the young people away with promises as empty as the calories in sugar-coated treats. But that's simply not true. Our goal is to expand horizons and broaden minds by allowing youths to gain experiences beyond what they grew up with. They travel and learn, and when their internship with us is over, almost half return to their family farms with all they learned to help make it better."

"And what about those who don't return?" Noah asked, voice low.

"Well," Stilton said with another smile. "We offer a wide range of placements after internships, and many take advantage of that. And also...sometimes there's simply nothing to return to. In which case, our training has already put the youngsters ahead, making them better equipped to find new jobs to support themselves and their families comfortably."