“Did I see you out on the sidewalk with Miles Crowe?”
“Yeah.”
“And how did that go? He seemed pretty shook when he put it all together yesterday. He apologize?”
“He did. I think we even declared a permanent truce.”
“Am I allowed to like him now?” she asked, eyeing me closely to check for signs I really was okay.
“You are. Turns out he’s a nice guy.”
“Good. Because I do like him. Figures he would have grown up as much as you have over the last dozen years. You really are fine?”
“I really am. It’s weird that after hating him intensely for this long, now we’re cool. What am I supposed to use as an outlet for my rage?”
“Do you have anything left to be rageful about?”
“No. It’s confusing. This is the worst superhero backstory ever. What am I supposed to seek justice for now?”
“I don’t know if I can help you with that, but I might be able to give you a big, new problem to keep you busy.” Miss Mary rubbed at an imaginary spot on the table and didn’t quite meet my eyes. It was strange since she was one of the most straightforward people I knew.
“Are you about to hit me up for a huge infrastructure bill? A water heater that needs replacing? Newly discovered asbestos?” My tone was joking, but my gut clenched as I waited for whatever she was finding hard to say.
“Harold came home last week and announced his retirement,” she said. “This is going to be his last semester.”
“That’s amazing! You must be so excited.” Mr. Douglas—what I’d called him my whole life—was actually Dr. Harold Douglas to the classes full of environmental science students he’d taught at the University of New Orleans for thirty years.
“I am,” she said, her smile soft.
“What’s he going to do? Come hang out here with you?”
“So he can oversalt my grits? No, thank you. He’ll give all my customers hypertension.”
“He’s only, what, mid-sixties?”
“Seventy next spring,” she said.
“No way. I’ve always thought of you both as ageless.”
“That’s vampires, honey. We’re humans. Tired humans.” She bit at her lip for a minute. “He wants us to spend some time at our fishing camp out in Bayou Corne.”
“Sounds like my dad. Good for him.”
“I mean a lot of time,” she said, watching me closely. “Like live there for a year or two. Then maybe do some traveling. Go up and see Mariah in Tennessee. Harold Junior in Baltimore.”
I blinked at her, not quite able to process the idea of Miss Mary spending that much time away from the café. “You mean you’re retiring?”
“I am, honey. It’s time.”
“Wow. Congratulations. Who’s taking over?” Jerome was happy in the kitchen. He didn’t like the business side of things. Kendra could do it, but it would be hard for her to balance full-time café management with finishing up school, and she had at least a year to go before she graduated from college. Maybe... “Theresa?” I guessed. She was Miss Mary’s oldest daughter, Jerome’s mom, and she had the personality most similar to Miss Mary’s.
But Miss Mary shook her head. “I better say it plain: when I retire, Miss Mary’s is done. Harold has a nice pension, and I’ve saved my pennies. I don’t need to work, and to be honest, I don’t want to anymore. I love this place, but it’s been hard on me over the years.” She winced and shifted in her chair. “It’s about time I go get a hip replacement, then ride into the sunset with some shiny new skeleton hardware and let someone else chase a dream.” She reached across the table and took my hand. “The lease agreement requires ninety days’ notice, so that’s what I’m giving you. I’ll put it in writing, but I wanted to tell it to your face first.”
One of the tears I had refused to cry last night slipped out.
“Oh, honey, don’t worry. Bywater is hopping. You’ll be able to find a new tenant without a problem.”
“It’s not that,” I sniffled. “You’re family. I can’t imagine this place without you.”
“I know. It’s been weighing on my heart for a week now, but it’s time. This place has been home for most of my life, but...” She trailed off, looking almost shy.
“But what?”
“I think I’d like to write. That’s part of why we want to go visit Harold Junior and Mariah. I have this idea I’d like to write some of those culinary mysteries, maybe have a spunky grandma who looks