Wytheville, Virginia Ronda Sandler lightly tapped a greasy fork against her water glass where she sat on a swivel stool at the counter of a roadside diner. John had gone outside to use the payphone and call into work.
"Can I get you some apple pie?" the perky blonde waitress asked from across the counter.
"No, I don't think so. We have to be going soon." She smiled to lessen the impact of her words. "But it sounds good."
"It is. We make it fresh everyday," she said proudly. She slipped the order pad under her belt and cocked her head to the side. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," Ronda said as she looked at the other woman expectantly.
"Where are you guys from?"
"Norfolk, Virginia."
The waitress laughed. "Everybody just blows right on through this town. Nothing here to stay for." She leaned against the counter and folded her arms, as if prepared to stay a while.
Ronda did not really mind. She was ready to converse with anybody but John. "I wouldn't have guessed. It's a beautiful town. First time I've ever been here."
"You and your husband on a trip or something?"
Ronda laughed. "He's not my husband. We're just friends. Although, after last night I might rethink even that."
"Really." The waitress looked genuinely concerned.
"I'm just kidding. We are great friends. He's a sweetheart. But last night we camped in Waynesboro, because it was too foggy to go on. I hate camping."
John rejoined them and sat on the stool beside Ronda. He picked up his near empty coffee cup. "And what are we talking about?"
"I'll get you some more coffee," the waitress said as she turned to the counter behind her and grabbed a glass pot.
"You get hold of anyone at the office?" Ronda asked.
"They're fine. Don't know their asses from…well, I'll shut up."
The waitress smiled and poured the fresh coffee.
Ronda leaned closer to her friend. "She thought we were married. Isn't that funny?"
A devilish grin curved John's lips as he looked up at the waitress. He winked. "We are married, honey. Don't deny it any longer."
Ronda slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "We are not!"
"Easy now," he said. "That could be construed as spousal abuse. I have a witness right here."
"You haven't seen abuse yet," Ronda muttered.
"Wait a minute, guys," the waitress said, with genuine worry in her tone. "I didn't mean to open a can of worms."
"She just has a lot of issues," John said, and then made a circling finger gesture beside his ear to indicate that Ronda was a little loony.
"Well, you guys are fun, but I better get back to work."
"Us married," John mumbled as the waitress walked on down the counter and disappeared through a swinging silver door.
"I know. Can you imagine?"
