"Pour it up, Maggie – black and hot" yelled Sam as he pushed through the door.
O'Doul's Diner was open late on this dark night as a driving Nor'easter blanketed the land, more than a foot of snow already on the ground. There was no sense closing as there was no place to go, the only people out on the road the State Troopers, and of course Sam who ran the snow plow and put down salt. If you were local and snow was flying you could count on finding Maggie behind the old weathered Formica counter-top, its turquoise hue faded almost white with age, her husband Jed sitting in his rocker over in the corner poking logs in the woodstove that gave the place its cozy glow.
Sam stamped the snow off his boots, dusted off his heavy tan canvas hunting jacket as he reached for a hanger and took off his weathered John Deere baseball cap, the same one he'd worn going on 20 years. He was wearing a flannel shirt, and his silver buckle, large as a cake plate, held up blue jeans that were a dull worn blue from years spent out in the fields. I watched as he walked over and got his coffee from Maggie, smiled as he ordered up a large stack of cakes.
Maggie's coffee was always piping hot, but Sam drank it straight down then briefly admired the fine old bone china cup. "Maggie, can you hit me again?"
Alone over in the corner I watched all this, no one paying me any mind. O'Doul's had opened up just after the Second World War, a relic from days so long ago past. Some of the checker board tablecloths were worn and frayed, but no one seemed to mind. You could still order root beer on tap, and the milkshakes were legendary in these parts, still made with three full scoops of their trademark Hershey's Genuine Ice Cream as proudly proclaimed on the rusted old sign hanging outside next to the Beechnut Chewing Tobacco temperature gauge that let everyone inside know it was 3 degrees above zero on the other side of the large frosted windows, two of them cracked back in 1957 when the tornado had blown through.
I'd been coming to O'Doul's for years, my seat over in the back corner always waiting for me as I knew it would be. Sam grabbed his second cup of coffee and headed over to the woodstove to warm his large calloused hands and have a word with Jed.
At almost 96 Jed was spry for his age, standing up with the help of his cane he reached out as he always did offering Sam a chair
"Here, come on and have a seat, the fires just right."
"Thanks Jed, don't mind if I do. How's that new hip of yours doing?"
"Fine, fine…now don't you start going on about my hip, I can still out work a man half my age." That statement was almost true.
Jed and Sam went way back, and before that Jed and Sam's father had been friends since they were kids. Jed and Maggie had opened the place just after the war, and three weeks after the doors had opened Rusty had come in with his beautiful wife Rosemary who was carrying their brand new baby boy. Jed had fallen in love with the kid on the spot and they had been friends ever since, becoming closer after Sam's father had passed away.
Maggie brought over a large oval platter, three buckwheat pancakes stacked one on top of the other, succulent fresh butter, hand churned the day before, dripping off the edges, three farm fresh eggs and two sausage links tucked in on the side
"You eat up now, tonight's going to be a long one, and bring your thermos over to the counter-top before you leave so I can fill it up and give you a couple sandwiches for the road." That was Maggie that was O'Doul's.
As Sam ate Jed got out the checkers and started setting up the board. The two of them would play a couple quick games, maybe light up their pipes before it was time to go. I watched as the plate of pancakes was devoured, smiled as Maggie refilled his coffee cup one last time. I smiled as Jed let him win the last checker game as he'd always done since Sam was three years old.
It would not be long now, and as I'd done so many times before I raised myself from the booth and floated through the wall. Tonight was Sam's night; he would not be making it home. I needed to be out by the bend in the road, be there with him after the crash with the State Trooper who would lose control of his cruiser in the deep wintry snow. Sometimes I think of retiring, but then what would I do, and besides, an angels work is never through.
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