~*~

Mr. James Bell Sr. had started the business way back in 1964. He called it Bell Diner, and it was a miserable failure, even for a Wakanakee diner. James Bell Jr. had taken it over when he was just eighteen after his daddy died in a car wreck on a trip to the city. After that it became Hester’s, and the stories started to spin. No Wakanakee girl was named Hester. So of course, the ladies started talking.

 “Jimmy Bell’s got some city girl he’s bringing out here.” They had whispered and buzzed like bees before Jimmy Bell even got the “Hester’s” sign up on the diner door. And just like that, business took off. My Aunt Ida told me the story and said it seemed like just yesterday, though of course she was only seven when it happened. My mom wasn’t even born yet. Aunt Ida said that curiosity was just dripping over the rumor, and every family in town went to the grand reopening of Hester’s in the hopes of hearing Jimmy talk about it. So it happened that all of Wakanakee was there when Mrs. Roday, the gossiper of gossipers, broached the subject. She sat right up at the counter and asked pluckily: “So, Jimmy there’s a rumor about that this Hester of yours is coming in soon from the big city. When do the lot of us get to meet her?” As if it were the most casual thing in the world and nobody in particular was interested, when in reality, the whole parlour was leaning in to hear his answer. Jimmy, who was shy even then, just smiled and said softly, “Well gee, Mrs. Roday. I expect she’ll be along.” And went about his work.

Its gone on like that for years. To this day if anybody ever asks Mr. Bell about Hester he’ll just smile and say softly, “Well gee, I expect she’ll be along.”

I started working at Hester’s when I was sixteen, and by this particular Friday night I’d pretty much grown used to Mr. Bell being so shy. It never bothered me, because when I was real young, I was pretty shy too. By the time I got to highschool though I’d been branded both class clown and most likely to succeed, due to my clackity tongue. “Most likely to succeed,” however is really just code for, “You’re popular.” I was a jock, and everybody’s friend besides. I guess the point is that I could make small talk with just about anybody, even someone as quiet as Mr. Bell. At first I chattered to fill the silence. I could see that he was almost enjoying hearing the dramas of high school life. Maybe it made him feel young again. And it was nice, you know? I never had to worry about Mr. Bell telling blabbing I said, so I could just stand there helping him with the pizza’s and spilling my guts about anything I liked,. He always just stood there nodding and smiling that quiet, not-too-sure smile of his.  But there were nights too when I’d talk and Mr. Bell didn’t even seem to hear me or know that I was in the room. That’s why his last kitchen boy, Bill Thomas, quit. He’d said it gave him the creeps when Mr. Bell would space out like that. But I didn’t mind it so much. It was on those nights when he got that vacant, lonely look in his eyes that I couldn’t help wondering if there really was a Hester, and Mr. Bell was still hoping that she’d be along.