Queenie's Cafe Read Online Free Page A

and laughing, enjoying themselves in spite of the hard work. They had faith in her even if Queenie didn’t.
    Charley Fenderman, scrubbing the inside of a window, said, “It’ll be nice to have a place to eat in this town again. I’m glad you’re back, Laura.”
    Murmurs of agreement spread through the café, warming Laura inside. She climbed down off the ladder and someone else immediately claimed it.
    At one, Charley brought a stack of pizzas, and everyone stopped work for lunch. Charley was one of the regulars Queenie had chased away for flirting with Laura. All the men had flirted, and most had left good tips, because they knew Queenie didn’t pay her anything.
    By the end of the day, the new exhaust system had been installed, except for the new fan, the plumbing was working, the roof had a new patch, and the roaches, mice and ants were gone. The dining area still looked shabby, with tired furniture, worn carpet, and stained walls, but Laura could see through the windows again.
    Thanks to Florence and her friends, the café was clean.
    And Laura was one step closer to opening.
    <>
     
    On Thursday, while Marv and Charley installed the new exhaust fan in the café kitchen, Laura cleaned out Queenie’s motel room. She started with the closet and bathroom, filling boxes with Queenie’s trash and treasures. As she filled the boxes, she carried them outside and stuffed them in the dumpster behind the diner. Clothes, shoes, hair brush and comb, lipstick, toothbrush, Laura tossed it all out. She propped the motel room door open to air the room out, but it still smelled stale. She stripped the bed and threw the pillows away, then put the sheets aside. They were worth saving. They were about the only things that were. The bed had to go, along with the sagging old recliner, but they wouldn’t fit in the dumpster. She’d have to find someone to take them to the dump. The furniture was in such sorry shape, she couldn’t even give it away.
    She emptied the night stand, pulling out bottle after bottle of pills for a heart ailment she didn’t know Queenie had until after she died.
    The dresser drawers were last. There wasn’t much there except presents Laura had given her for birthdays or Christmas. Scarves she never wore. An unopened box of scented powder. A string of beads that had been mended with thread. And a photo album filled with pictures of Queenie as a child. There were also pictures of the motel and café, which had belonged to Queenie’s parents at one time. Laura put the photo album aside to look at later.
    In the bottom drawer, she found an old afghan crocheted of pale apricot and cream yarn. It must have been beautiful at one time, but now it was stained and torn. Laura threw it on top of the last box of trash and heaved the box over the rim of the dumpster.
    When she finished, the bottom drawer of the dresser wouldn’t go back in. She pulled it all the way out and found an old cassette tape stuck to the back. It had been taped on, but the tape, old and yellowed, had come loose, leaving the cassette hanging off to the side. Laura pulled the cassette off, pushed the drawer back in, and examined the cassette. Elvis Presley. Her hands stuck to the tape residue. Why would Queenie tape this to the back of the drawer? She started to throw it away, then changed her mind and put it on top of the dresser with the photo album and a couple of nice scarves, the only things worth keeping.
    After scrubbing the bathroom and cleaning the bedroom, Laura draped the bedspread over the stripped mattress and carried the single thin blanket and sheets to the laundry room to wash.
    When she walked back to the room, Queenie’s old cat, Sleepy, stood in the doorway. She looked a little confused.
    Laura crooned soft words of comfort to Sleepy, filled her food and water dishes, and left them on the bathroom floor. Sleepy jumped on the bed, humped her back and raised her tail, curling it at the end. She must be lonesome with Queenie