Margo was so hungry, that when they got to the restaurant she attempted to give the person seating them her order.
“Hold on a minute,” Grifton said. “This poor guy doesn’t even take orders, let alone at the door.”
Margo’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “Sorry about that Grif, I am so hungry, I am not thinking straight,” she said as she slid over the smooth vinyl into the booth.
The rustic pine walls reminded Margo of her grandmother’s cabin. A large, stuffed Polar bear stood at the entryway; it had been standing in the same place for the last 50 years. She had practically grown up in the Nanook. The first time she came in, it was with her father. He liked to have a cup of coffee while he was reading, and on occasion he would take Margo with him. There were small jukeboxes on each of the tables back then, and for a few quarters, she could pretend she was a D.J.
“What are you thinking so hard about Margo?” Grifton asked.
“You mean besides breakfast?”
Her laugh made his face light up. “Yes, besides breakfast.”
“I was thinking about the first time I came into this place. I was with my father and probably about 4 years old. He used to bring me with him when he was reading something he didn’t want to put down. I would play the jukebox, and he would read for hours. I’m surprised he never turned into a coffee bean for all the coffee he drank while we were here!”
The name tag on the waiter’s shirt said Chris.
Grifton set the menus down on the edge of the table and said “We’ll have two of your number 8’s, one with sausage and the other with bacon.”
“And some coffee please,” Margo added.