Chapter 24: The Roof

The storm came in over the mill at four on Sunday afternoon, and The Dime was full.

Every booth had someone in it.

The old man with the cane sat in the one by the window.

The nurses from the hospital had walked over in the rain with their umbrellas.

Dinah's father had put a laminated sign on the door that said CLOSED FOR A PRIVATE PARTY.

Then he had unlocked it for anyone who came.

I stood behind the counter in a navy suit with an apron over it, pouring coffee.

The suit was the chair's.

The apron was Dinah's mother's, and it had a stain on the pocket that no washing had ever removed.

"Chair," the old man said. "The usual."

"You've never had a usual."

"I've been eating in this booth for forty years, and nobody ever asked what I order."

I cut him a slice.

On the wall above the register hung two frames that had not been there a week before.

One was a photograph of my father at the counter, young and laughing, with a fork in his hand.

Dinah's father had found it in a box.

The other was a plaque from the state police, and the captain had driven it to the diner himself.

It carried a trooper's name, and the line that said his report had been correct.

Elias stood in front of it with his hands in his pockets for a long time when it went up.

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