Annie's Answer by Pam Andrews Hanson

here,” she said, walking out beside him
with a backward glance over her shoulder as though she expected to be stopped.
    “How late do
you usually work?” It was information he wanted to file away for future
reference.
    “We’re supposed
to be done at ten, but my boss always finds jobs to keep us later.” She slid
onto the seat of Nathan’s Lincoln when he opened the door.
    Inside the
vehicle she looked small and vulnerable in a way that tugged on his
heartstrings. He wanted to make life easier for her, but he didn’t have a clue
how to do that without offending her. She certainly hadn’t jumped at the chance
to be a live-in companion for his aunt, not that he blamed her. But it would’ve
given him a chance to solve her financial problems.
    “Where would
you like to go?” he asked, only a courtesy since most of Westover was closed
down by now.
    “If you don’t
like fast food….”
    “Not much.”
    “There’s
Mama’s Place on Main Street. I don’t think it closes until midnight. And it’s
fairly dark. I won’t feel so conspicuous in my uniform,” she said.
    “Mama’s,” he
mused. “I can’t believe there’s an eating place in town I haven’t tried,
although I have to admit we Sawyers usually go to the country club or the
restaurant in the Hotel Burgess, both closed by now. Let’s go to Mama’s.”
    No wonder he’d
never bothered to try the small restaurant sandwiched between a resale shop and
an empty building with a FOR RENT sign on a window painted black. If Westover
had a rundown area, this would be it. Fortunately urban renewal had given the
business district a new face some years ago, missing only this short block off
Main Street.
    “It’s not
fancy, but the food is good,” Annie said in an apologetic tone.
    After assuring
her he was eager to try something different, Nathan parked on the street right
in front of the place, a sure sign it wasn’t busy. When he went through the
door with Annie, he was surprised by how small it was inside. There were maybe
ten tables crowded together and a swinging door to the kitchen. Only one was
occupied. A lone man in brown coveralls and a greasy red cap was hunched over a
large platter heaped with food.
    Nathan
followed Annie to a table for two against the wall and pulled out a chair with
a cracked faux leather seat. It was definitely a dive, but all he really cared
about was the chance to talk to Annie away from his great aunt.
    “I know it
doesn’t look like much, but trust me,” she whispered, taking out one of the two
laminated menus sandwiched between a ketchup bottle and oversized salt and
pepper shakers. A chrome napkin holder was pushed against the wall, and the
wood of the table was stained and gouged but free of food remnants.
    “Lot’s of
comfort food,” he said, reading through the kind of entrees other people’s moms
made when he was a kid: chicken pot pie, macaroni and cheese, beef stew. If he
hadn’t been genuinely hungry before, he was now.
    “How’s the
meatloaf?” he asked, using the tried and true method of talking food to put his
dinner companion at ease.
    “It’s a pork
and beef combination with bits of veggies and the best gravy you’ll ever
taste,” she said with a little grin. “Coming here is our guilty
treat—Mom’s, Gramp’s, and mine.”
    “Why “guilty?”
he asked, enjoying the moment more than he could’ve imagined.
    “Because Mama
cooks with real butter, lard in the pie crust, and all kinds of things that
aren’t supposed to be good for you.” She laughed softly. “Gramps says it tastes
so good, it must be sinful. He’s just kidding, of course.”
    “I was really
impressed with your grandfather’s sermon Sunday. I’ve thought a lot about what
the Sawyer family can do to help the town and especially the less fortunate.
I’d like to do more pro bono work than we do, maybe even open a storefront
office where people will feel more comfortable coming to us—well, to me.
My father is pretty