Long Live the King

Thirteen

Marshall settled into a booth by the window, raising a hand to cover his yawn. After handling a midnight emergency repair, he had more than earned the right to sleep in--but the leaky pipe at Mrs Hanover's house wasn't going to fix itself. With reluctance he'd pulled his head out of bed, but before he got to work he was at least going to eat breakfast.

"Marshmallow, what are you doing here?" Rosie Coopman, owner and one of the cooks of the popular town diner, appeared next to him looking concerned. "You just left my house not four hours ago. You ought to be sleeping."

"Well I would be." He yawned. "But Mrs Hanover has got a leaky pipe and appointments all day long. She needs me over at nine or it'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"Oh Marshall, I didn't know! That old window of mine could have waited," she said.

"Nonsense," he said. "You needed a fix and I was happy to help."

"Well, the least I can do is get some breakfast in you." She clucked her tongue sympathetically and touched his shoulder. "It's on the house and don't you dare try to refuse it. I'll have Melody over here to take your order. You want coffee? Reg'lar or Decaf?"

"Regular would be great, thanks."

"Melody!" Rosie hollered across the restaurant. A slight girl over at the counter looked up with surprise. "Get this man some coffee!"

"Right away," the girl said. She reached for the green handle of the caffeinated coffee then hesitated, fumbled for the blue handle of the decaf then drew her hand back and looked to Rosie. "Wait, regular or decaf?"

"Reg'lar!" Rosie watched the girl fumble. She shook her head and lowered her voice to address Marshall. "You make sure and eat something good, you hear me?"

"Will do," he assured her.

Moments later Melody stumbled over with the coffee. Marshall smiled and flipped his cup over.

"What can I get for you today?" She asked while pouring coffee into his cup. Her hand was trembling but she managed not to spill anything.

"Eggs would be great," he said. "Or whatever Rosie wants to make. Just as long as it doesn't take too long."

He glanced around, his eyes settling out on the sidewalk across the street from the diner. Two people stood near the bus stop, appearing to be the midst of a disagreement. The surly young man was shaking his head while the younger woman pleaded with him.

"You get toast with your eggs, is wheat okay?"

"Yeah, wheat is fine," Marshall said. "Are they...?"

"The newcomers?" Melody looked out at the pair on the street. "Yeah, I reckon that's them. My mom told me this morning that she heard they moved into the Reynold's house so I guess they're here to stay. I'll go put your order in."

"Great, thanks." He was still watching the two outside. They'd stopped arguing and the young man had sat down to sulk on one of the bus benches. He faced the diner, glowering at all of the people inside. The young woman shook her head, held up her index finger toward him and entered the diner.

Marshall was aware of the definitive hush that fell over the usually chatty diner when the stranger entered. Whoever she was, she and her companion had only been in town for two days. They'd blown in overnight and nobody could seem to stop talking about them. It was rumored they were delinquents, runaways, perpetually homeless, on the run from the law. No one knew, but they couldn't stop speculating.

She might have been aware of it too, the absent buzz of conversation, but she didn't let it stop her. She approached a waiter who was near the counter and even though she spoke in soft voice, everyone could hear her in this quiet diner if they just strained a little bit.