Between the Lanterns (7 page)

BOOK: Between the Lanterns
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“I see,” Samantha said, trying to keep up.

Lee went on, saying, “Anyway, once I met with Mr. Hill he told me that he had no family and no friends… except for you and a young man named August. He didn’t know your last names, he just said you two, and I quote, ‘were the two nicest people I’ve met in many a year.’ Mr. Hill then told me that he was the husband of one Cheryl Hill, owner of this diner. Now, this diner, along with her home, was left to Mr. Hill in her will once she passed away. As you are probably aware, she gave full management over to Tara White and yourself.”

Sam was reeling with all of this information… Cheryl left the diner to John? She died years ago, though. He said that he just found out about her death right before he came to the diner.
 

“Mr. Parr, how was John the owner?” she asked. “It was my understanding that me and Tara ran the place, and kept the profits. Cheryl said that the diner was now state- owned because she owed too much Credit on it.”

“Well, Miss Vann, she lied to you,” Lee answered. “This diner has been owned by John Hill since Cheryl Hill passed away.”

“But what about the Credit that gets automatically taken out every month? Where does that go? I thought it was paying off her debt, and that when it was all gone we’d inherit the diner. That’s what she told us, Mr. Parr,” Samantha said, still trying to understand.

“Well, once again she lied to you, Miss Vann. Once Mr. Hill told me his story, I verified it all with the local government and everything checks out. He never wanted the Credit or the diner, as he said it would only break his heart even more. So the Credit every month went to charity. Research for a Countdown Cure, I believe. He knew of Cheryl’s death because he had to come down and sign all the paperwork when she died. He informed me that he was here to meet you. He said that before she died, Cheryl wrote him and told him about you and how you were the daughter that they never had,” Lee explained. “She wanted John to take care of you with the Credit from the diner. He said that it took this long to come here and meet you because he ‘was too damn scared,’: in his words, mind you.”

Samantha needed a drink. Cheryl sent John a letter about her? And he had waited until just now to come and see everything… it all just seemed too strange for Samantha to comprehend.
 

“I’m following you sweets, but I’m starting to feel sick,” Samantha said. “I don’t know how many more surprises I can take.”

“Well, here it all is laid out for you,” Lee replied. “John wanted to meet you so he could give you the diner and Cheryl’s house. He met you, was very pleased with how pleasant you were and was ready to sign everything over to you. Then an AutoCar struck him on West Main Street. Very unfortunate. So, I was called in, and the papers were signed. All you have to do is fill out these few forms, sign on the dotted lines, and the house and diner are yours. The payments will cease going to Countdown Cure research and go to you. That’s as simple as I can make it.”

“I think I’m going to faint,” was Samantha’s only response.

She grabbed the dirty cloth, recently used for wiping tables, and held it up to her forehead. Now was not the time to worry about some bits of food getting on her face. It was cold and wet, and that was exactly what she needed.

“Ok, Mr. Parr. I think… I think that I understand it all, I just can’t believe it. You go ahead, tell me what to sign, and I’ll do it,” Samantha said. Looking up at the heavens and shaking her head, she added under her breath, “Cheryl, you are a sneaky old bat, but thank you, both you and John, for what y’all did for me. I love you.”

Lee looked at Samantha like she had gone crazy. People didn’t openly talk to the dead in Heaven anymore. Most people didn’t even believe in that kind of stuff, but if they did they just kept it to themselves. He felt that this lady was obviously a bit wacko.
 

“Ok, madam. Just sign here and here, then fill out this portion,” Lee told her.

Samantha did as instructed, and just like that she was the owner of a diner and a home. She hadn’t been to Cheryl’s place since she passed. Samantha loved that house. It was a three bedroom ranch over near Westgate Park:; a beautiful place, and much nicer than her small apartment. But living there would mean that she and August wouldn’t live close by each other anymore, though.

“Ok, Mr. Parr, all done,” Samantha said. “Is there anything else I need to do? Where do I get the keys to the house and what not?”

“Well, I have the keys here. The final, formal deeds for the house and the diner will arrive in the next few days. But other than that, it’s official. You are the owner of both as of this moment. Congratulations, Miss Vann,” Lee said.

The possibilities opened up before her. Samantha thought of all that extra Credit she would receive, and thought of how much Credit she would save not having to buy a house. She was sincerely excited about all of it.

“I am also here on a different matter, Miss Vann,” Lee added. “As I said, I work for the state, and there is a new law that just passed last week. It’s part of my duties to visit all restaurants in town and let them know of this new law and make sure of their compliance. Due to an agreement with Montek, the government is now requiring all restaurants to have at least one Nutricator on the premises, so that everyone can choose to have the items on the menu cooked or created by a Nutricator.”

Samantha’s excitement flew out of the window in an instant. Her face grew bitter, and she said in a venomous voice, “That’s not right, Mr. Parr. Neither the government nor Montek… hHell, let’s be honest, we all know they’re almost one and the same… but they can’t tell me that I have to use their filthy, disgusting machine to feed people fake food. The whole point of places like these is that we only serve REAL food. They can’t’ take that away from me. They just… they can’t!”

Lee regarded Samantha without any emotion showing on his face and replied, “I’m sorry, Miss Vann. It’s the law.”

Chapter 7

MUSCADINE WINE

Tara fussed and fussed over the state of Samantha’s hair. She put it up, then let it down, and then repeated the process all over again.
 

“Sam, dear, I just can’t decide which way looks best on you,” Tara said. “You’re so damn good-looking that, either way, you’ll be the most beautiful bride this town has ever seen, but I want it to be perfect for y’all. What do you think:; up or down?”

“Oh sweets, it don’t matter to me,” Samantha said, beaming with joy. “The only thing I care about is walking down that aisle and marrying that incredible man, spending the rest of my natural- born life with him, having babies with him, and growing old together. These are the things that concern me at the moment, not my dang hair. Just put it up or down, and be quick; please and thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tara replied with feigned annoyance. “Jeez, Miss Bossy Pants. Get a house, a diner, and a fiancé and all of a sudden you’re the queen of the world.”

“Tara, I’m sorry if that came off as rude. I’m just nervous, is all,” Samantha said, putting a hand on her best friend’s cheek. “And you know, it all seems so sudden, even though I signed those papers for the house and our diner over a year ago, and August only proposed six months ago. Should we have waited longer?”

Samantha said “our diner” because as soon as legally possible she had signed half of it over to Tara, since she had been there just as long and worked just as hard to keep that place going.

“Do you feel like you should have waited, Sam?” Tara asked, already knowing the answer.

Samantha looked at her, and with the world’s biggest smile, said, “Hell no, sweets. Hell no. I want August all to myself as soon as possible; every night and day!”

Tara, still fussing with Samantha’s hair, said, “Oh, tell me again how August proposed to you, Sam. I love that story.”

“Well, I love it, too,” Samantha replied, “So I’ll tell it. As you know, I waited as long as possible to install the mandatory Nutricator in our diner. August knew I was feeling pretty upset about having it in there, so he chose that day to propose. He said that he was initially going to do it another time, but he felt that I especially needed something good to happen on that specific day, you know?”

“Mmmm- hmmm,” Tara said with a grin and a wink.

Sam continued. “Anyway, as he walked me home down West Main, right as we passed between the lanterns…between our lanterns, he knelt down and pulled the box out of his pocket. As soon as he did that, I knelt down, too, and pulled a box out of my pocket.”

Tara hooted with laughter at this, and said, “I utterly adore that part! Why did you have a box with a ring in it, again?”

“You see, sweets,” Sam reminded her, “I was planning on asking him to marry me. I had made him a ring out of wood a couple of months before, and I’d been carrying it around just waiting for the right moment. Well, when he got down on one knee between the lanterns, I knew that was the right moment! So we asked each other at the same time right there, between the lanterns. I gave him the wooden ring I had made, and August gave me this beautiful diamond ring that used to be his granny’s.”

Tara and Samantha both looked at the antique ring she was wearing. It was a platinum band with an almost one- karat diamond. It wasn’t big, but Samantha didn’t care about that. She knew that this ring had a history, and it was important to August. It was Samantha’s favorite possession.

“Sam, it’s a gorgeous ring,” Tara said, jealous but happy for her friend.

“Thank you, sweets. I think so, too. Now, my life is perfect except for one thing,” Samantha said, sadness dripping from the words.

Tara tilted her head at Samantha, and asked, “What’s that, Sam?”

Sam shook her head and closed her eyes, whispering, “Having that filthy machine in our diner, making nasty, old, fake food for silly fools who wouldn’t know a good bite of food if it bit them back.”

Tara threw her head back and laughed even more, saying, “Oh, it’s not so bad, and you know it, Sam! Business has tripled since we put in the Nutricator. We actually make enough Credit now to afford some nice things. Did you know that last week I went ahead and got a Montek.Automaton?”

Samantha whirled on her oldest friend in the world with shock and disgust plastered all over here face and said, “Sweets, why on God’s green Earth would you buy one of those dreadful things? Who is it for?”

Tara laughed at the expected response from Samantha, and replied, “It’s mine, for your information. And no, I’m not dying. I just wanted to have it and be prepared, since I’ve already got the Credit for it. One day, I’ll be standing in the corner of the diner greeting all the customers as a tin can full of memories. Won’t that be just weird as all get out?”

Tara always did have a sick sense of humor. Sam said, “Then you better go before I do because I’m not having one of those things in the diner all day long. It would creep me out, sweets.”

“Sam, there’s at least two in the diner all the time, anyways,” Tara said. “Those things have surprisingly caught on. Some people never leave home without their loved one’s’ memories walking beside them.”

Tara was right. In the year and a half since John had passed away in the clinic on West Main Street, the Montek.Automaton had become the newest and most fashionable trend since the Nutricator. Montek’s plan to soften people’s hearts had worked, to a degree. People were still rude and uncaring about anyone but themselves, but now they remarkably mourned for the loss of life. Well, the loss of someone close to them at least. They still didn’t care about complete strangers and their misfortunes.
 

The problem was, people weren’t mourning and letting go. They were buying new and better models of these damned robot caskets, and taking their automatons with them everywhere. They took them to work, to dinner, to the bathroom, to church (those who still went to church, that is), to Frizball games. Name an event, and there were at least a few Montek.Automatons in attendance.

They had become so commonplace that no one even noticed anymore. If you had one with you, it was like a watch or new pair of shoes. People would compliment you on the design, and then never pay attention to it again. People’s dead relatives were now relegated to an accessory.

“Be that as it may, sweets, I don’t want you to be inside one of those machines. It just don’t seem right to me,” Sam told her long-time friend.

“Too late, Sam. I done bought one and it’s gonna happen one day,” Tara replied. “I don’t know why you act so nasty about them. Your husband -to -be, the man you are just about to marry in a couple of minutes, is the manager of a plant that builds the automatons. That’s got to be a lucrative job, right? So why hate the thing making your family lots of Credit?”

“Not at all, sweets,” Sam said sourly. “Montek pays next to nothing, even for management. I’ve told August to quit and start a local repair shop, but he’s too afraid that it would fail, and then we’d be even worse off. Hopefully, now that we’ll be married, I can convince him that he doesn’t need to work for Montek. I can support us while he gets the business going.”

Tara nodded along, not paying much attention. She was too busy thinking about Montek’s latest tech catalog that came out last week and window-shopping in her mind.

Sam kept on talking, not noticing Tara’s lack of interest, saying, “I just know it would be better for us, sweets. He’s obsessed with these automatons. He’s neutral about if he or I should be in one when we pass, so he’s not as crazy as you buying one already, but he talks about them all the time. You know, a lot of the improvements in their functions and design came from August. Of course, Montek took the credit and only paid him a small bonus, but he is the one responsible for their increased emotional capacity and dialogue options. I may not approve of those things, but I am proud of August for what he’s accomplished.”

“Well, I think you need to stop worrying about automatons right now,” Tara said, hearing a call from outside the room. “It’s time. Are you ready?”

Samantha was so nervous; her stomach was in knots. She checked the mirror and saw the gorgeous dress, her black hair down and flowing around her shoulders, and her make-up looking perfect; not too much, and not hiding her freckles, of which August was so fond.

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