Bea had been wondering how they were supposed to get anyplace where food could be purchased. The possibility of going to sleep hungry had played through her mind. Still she hesitated.
“We’d love to,” Allie said. Then, turning to Bea, “Wouldn’t we?”
“I think that would be lovely,” Bea said. “Thank you.”
“We could all get one giant pizza,” Casper said, holding the menu up in front of his face. “How do you feel about pepperoni?”
“We can’t all get one,” Bea said. “Pepperoni is fine with me, but it’s the girl. You know. Kids today. She doesn’t eat anything that used to be an animal.”
Then she sipped her iced tea, which she had sweetened just right, and felt suddenly fortunate. They were being fed, and the van was being repaired. It was not the end of the world after all. It was not even the end of the adventure.
“Or anything that came from an animal,” Allie added. “So I can’t order pizza. It’s all covered with cheese. I have to just eat from the salad bar.”
“They have vegan cheese on request,” Casper said.
“You’re kidding me!”
He reached over to Allie’s menu and pointed it out.
“Whoa! I love this place!”
Bea’s gaze flicked up to Casper’s face and they smiled awkwardly, then looked away.
“Kids,” Bea said.
“I know what you mean,” he said. “But as kids go, she’s a nice one.”
“She’ll do,” Bea said, but it sounded affectionate. More so than she had planned. “I must admit it’s nice to have a conversation with someone my own age for a change.”
“I’m not your age,” Casper said. “I’m quite a bit older, I’m sure.”
Their waiter arrived, a young man who could not have been much over twenty. Clean cut and smiling.
“Evening, Casper,” he said.
“A very good evening, Todd, I’ll tell you that right now. The lady and I will split a large pepperoni and double cheese. And we all want trips to the salad bar. The young lady will order her pizza on her own.”
“Small with vegan cheese,” Allie piped up, sounding inordinately excited about it. “With mushrooms and onions and bell peppers and tomatoes and olives.”
They folded up their menus and handed them over.
“Is it okay that I ordered so many toppings?” Allie asked.
“The plan was for you to order whatever strikes your fancy,” Casper replied.
“I don’t think you’re older than me,” Bea said when Todd had gone. “At least, not by much.”
“I’ll be eighty-one this month.”
“Very much in the same ballpark.”
“No way. I can’t believe that.”
“A lady doesn’t give her exact age. So I’ll just say I’m in my seventies and leave it at that.” She sipped her tea for a moment in silence. “And I didn’t exactly just arrive in them, either.”
“So you remember eight-track tapes and black-and-white TVs and party lines on your telephone,” Casper said.
“Oh, goodness yes. I remember when we felt oh so lucky to have them. Remember those little plastic inserts you snapped into your forty-fives so they’d play on the spindle of your phonograph?”
“As if it were yesterday,” he said.
Bea looked up to see Allie wrinkling her nose. “I don’t even know what a spindle or a forty-five is. I know what a phonograph is. Never saw one with my own eyes, though. I’ve seen pictures.”
A silence fell. Bea wanted to extend the pleasant banter. It felt light and a little bit exciting, like flirting. But Casper had slipped into a more serious mood.
“Look,” he said, and the one word pulled Bea back down. “I know the two of you have been using the van as a camper. That’s easy enough to see from the way it’s set up inside. I can’t let you sleep in it while it’s in the shop, though. It would be a problem with my insurance. I’m really not supposed to allow customers in the shop at all. If absolute worst comes to absolute worst, I can open the shop doors and push it out into the parking lot. But I hope you’ll accept an offer to use my guest room tonight instead.”
Bea opened her mouth to refuse him, but he cut her off with a hand like a stop sign.
“Before you answer, I just want you to know I’m a gentleman. You’ve been alive long enough to remember those, too. I know a lady when I see one, and I would never make such an offer in any sort of ungentlemanly way. The guest room has a lock on the door, if that makes you feel better. There’s just one bed. A double. If you two wouldn’t mind sharing.”
Bea glanced over at the girl, whose eyes begged her to accept. They all but said it out loud, those eyes: “Please, please, please, Bea. A bed!”
Yes, a bed sounded like a lovely treat. Bea could scarcely remember her last experience with one.
“Thank you,” she said. “If it’s all very above board, we would love to take you up on that. Only thing is, I have to go by the shop after dinner. I have to feed my cat.”
Casper’s eyebrows jumped higher. His eyes widened. “You have a cat in there? I never saw one.”
“I expect she’s keeping a low profile. But the poor thing has to eat. And it would help to pick up a few items from the van. Toothbrush, change of clothes . . . Well, enough about that. I’m hungry. I say we hit that salad bar.”
“Maybe we should bring the cat with us,” Allie said.
They were all three sitting in Casper’s car, just outside the shop, in the dark. Bea had been in to leave food for the cat, but Phyllis had not come out and made herself known. But she was all right. Bea had crouched down and peered under the passenger seat and seen the cat’s eyes glowing back at her in the dim light. Phyllis was just upset. She’d get over it. She wasn’t the only one who had to learn to be flexible these days.
“I honestly think she’s better off in the van,” Bea said. “It’s more familiar. And besides, I couldn’t get her out from under that seat if I tried.”
“And I’m not such a big cat fan,” Casper chimed in, as though he’d only just found his voice or his right to comment. “I’m allergic. But beyond that, I was just never much of a cat person. More into dogs.”
“Do you have dogs?” Bea asked, suddenly alarmed at the idea of spending a night in a house with several massive, rough, ill-mannered beasts.
“No, I work too much. I’d like to have a dog. But maybe when I retire.”
The comment sat a moment without much reaction. Then Bea burst into laughter. It was a big, hearty laugh, the kind that might not stop simply because you wanted it to. You had to let it play out. It had been gone for longer than Bea could remember, that kind of laughter.
“Casper, my goodness,” she said when it had rolled through. “You’re eighty-one years old. If you’re not retired by now, when will you ever be?”
“When I absolutely, positively have no choice in the matter.”