The American Café

9

51 9 Emmalee Singer stepped off the Greyhound bus in front of Cronley’s Service Station and waited for the bus driver to retrieve her bags. While he shuffled suitcases and boxes in the belly of the bus, she shielded her eyes from the intense early-morning sunshine and looked across the intersection and down the street. She twisted her head from side to side trying to loosen the tightness that gripped her neck and snarled the muscles in her shoulders. Emmalee, or Emma as Goldie had always called her, had made the long trip from Carthage, Missouri, after her sister phoned and asked her to come. Goldie was selling the café and wanted to travel. The announcement devastated Emma. How could her sister turn the family business over to an outsider? Not to mention, the buyer was an Indian. It was unthinkable, and Goldie hadn’t even asked for her opinion. Even though Emma had married and moved away from Liberty over three decades earlier, she felt a strong attachment to the café. It once belonged to their great-grandparents, opened when they moved from Arkansas in the late 1800s into what was then Indian Territory, before Oklahoma became a state. Emma would gladly have taken over the café herself if only she’d known Goldie was so determined to get rid of it. The two had traded harsh words on the telephone when Goldie suggested her sister might be too old to run the café. The words stung. Although Emma’s next birthday would be her sixty-fourth, she reminded her sister that she walked three miles a day and considered herself as fit as anyone half her age. She continued to lash out at Goldie, calling her a spoiled brat. In the end, however, Emma had conceded that it was indeed her sister’s café to do with as she wished. 52 Goldie planned to see the Smoky Mountains and had invited her sister to come along. A chance, she had said, for the two to reconnect with one another. Emma thought it was a ploy, Goldie’s way of trying to make up for selling the café out from under her. The door slammed behind her and Emma realized the bus driver had already deposited her three bags inside the gas station next to the front counter and bounded back onto the bus. Emma hurried to catch him before he closed the door. “Thank you for such a safe trip, young man,” she said and handed him a shiny new gold coin with the image of Sacagawea on it. The driver tipped his hat, pulled the lever to shut the door, and steered the mighty vehicle toward the road, leaving Emma alone. She entered the station and looked through the door into the work area. “May I use your telephone?” she asked. The attendant, busy installing a new pair of wiper blades on an old Buick, used one of the blades to point at a grubby phone on the wall and then returned to his work. Emma pulled a tissue from her purse and used it to hold the receiver while she dialed. Before the phone on the other end began to ring she hung up and thought for a moment. Promising to be back soon, she made arrangements with the attendant to temporarily store her bags. Then she struck out walking up Main Street. Sadie finished dumping the final dustpan full of broken glass into a cardboard box and carried it through the kitchen. Sonny lay just inside the back door where she had instructed him to stay. “Good boy,” she said, as she left the box to dispose of later. When the front door of the café rattled, Sonny growled. Sadie saw a small gray-haired woman peering through the glass with an air of desperation . “Edoa, Sonny. Stay,” she commanded. “It’s okay. She looks pretty harmless. If I need you, I’ll let you know.” She walked to the front door and unlocked it. “Hello there,” the woman said. “I’m looking for my sister, Goldie Ray. She was supposed to pick me up at the bus station this morning, but she must be running late. I thought she might be here. You’re the new owner, aren’t you?” 53 Sadie could feel the warmth rise to her face. This woman obviously didn’t know about Goldie’s death...