The next Saturday, I walked into Mel’s Diner, clutching my purse tighter than I needed to. The place buzzed with the smell of burnt coffee and old pie. I spotted them in a booth by the window: Ivy, Mark, and Theo, already halfway through a plate of pancakes.
Theo waved his fork, syrup dripping down his chin. “Ms. Rose! You came!”
He scooted over on the bench without being asked, patting the seat beside him like it belonged to me.
Ivy smiled, a little stiff, and nodded to the empty seat beside Theo. “We thought you might want to join us, if you’re not busy.”
“Ms. Rose! You came!”
“Well, I do love pancakes. Thank you.” I slid into the booth, smoothing my skirt. Mark nodded, polite, already passing me the menu.
Theo leaned over, whispering like he had a secret.
“Did you know they put chocolate chips in the pancakes if you ask?”
“Is that so?” I smiled, warming to him. “You seem like an expert.”
“I do love pancakes.”
He giggled, swinging his legs.
“Mom says I could live off pancakes and coloring books.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “And apparently, chocolate milk. He’ll bounce off the walls all afternoon.”
“My son loved chocolate milk,” I said. “Even when he was 18 years old, Theo, he used to have a glass after dinner every night.”
Mark smiled, then looked at me. “We come here every Saturday. It’s a tradition.”
He giggled.
I glanced at the other families, couples lost in their own mornings. For the first time in a long while, I felt like maybe I belonged somewhere again.
Theo pulled a crayon from his pocket, started doodling on a napkin. “Can you draw, Ms. Rose?”
“I can. But I’m not very good at it.”
“Can you draw, Ms. Rose?”
He giggled.
We bent our heads together, sketching a lopsided dog and a big yellow sun. Ivy watched us, her guard dropping, bit by bit. After a moment, she slid her pot of tea across the table.
“You take sugar, right, Rose?” she asked.
