Anomaly Flats Read Free Page B

counter and laid her head in her hands, scrubbing her fingers through her increasingly wild hair. “What a nightmare,” she muttered. She sat up, swiveled around, and peered out the window at her car, hoping maybe it had fired back up on its own and might be waiting patiently for her to finish eating her coffee and drive it away into the night—out of Missouri, up through the plains, and into Saskatchewan, to Lenore’s place, where everything would be okay.
    Instead, it just sat there, dark and cold and resolutely broken-down.
    “Order up!” Trudy sang out, grabbing a plate from the kitchen window and skimming it down the counter.
    Mallory swiveled back and pushed the menus aside as her waffles arrived. There were two of them; crispy, golden-brown, and distinctly of the Belgian variety. A pad of butter slipped over the waffles’ little square pockets as it melted. The steam wafted up and teased its way into her nose. It smelled of childhood Sundays.
    “They do look good,” Mallory admitted, picking up her fork and knife.
    Trudy grabbed a half-full syrup dispenser and took the liberty of covering the waffles in field mouse syrup. “Like I said: best waffles in the quad-counties,” she repeated proudly. “Enjoy.”
    And Mallory did enjoy them. She hadn’t had waffles in ages—probably twenty years, at least—but the sweet, sticky, buttery flavor brought her right back to spring mornings at her grandmother’s farmhouse. She could practically hear the cows and smell the cornbread.
    These waffles are magical , she thought.
    But they weren’t magical enough. They could help her remember, but they couldn’t make her forget. Had the deputy back at the bridge recognized her? Had her car been flagged? She’d been careful, but even so…
    “Trudy,” she said, swallowing down a mouthful of waffle, “that repair shop…you said it’s closed until morning?”
    “That’s right, hon. But no matter the trouble, I’m sure ol’ Rufus can fix it in a jiff. Boy’s got more heart than brains these days, but I swear, whatever he’s got in his head, it’s shaped like an engine block.”
    “What about a dealership? Maybe a used car lot?”
    “Gracious! In Anomaly Flats?” she laughed. “I think you’ve got us confused with Kansas City.”
    Mallory frowned. “Do you know anyone who’s selling a car? Or anyone who would sell their car?”
    Trudy raised an eyebrow. “Lord, girl. You’re anxious to get wheels underfoot, ain’t you?”
    “I’m…” Mallory paused. “I’m in a hurry,” she said finally.
    Trudy made a strange noise in the back of her throat. “No matter.” She shook her head. “People in this town ain’t really much for automobiles.”
    “What do you mean?” Mallory asked, sliding a piece of waffle around a pool of syrup.
    “We don’t got much call for ’em. Most people just walk to work, or take the bus, when it decides to run. Probably ain’t more than, oh, say, a few dozen or so vehicles total in the Flats. And most of ‘em spend more time in Rufus’ shop than a cat spends in the sun. We just don’t hold for cars ‘round here.”
    “This is insane,” Mallory said, more to herself than to her waitress. “What sort of town is this?”
    Trudy wiped her hands on the front of her apron. “I know it’s none of my business, honey, but you know, Anomaly Flats is a...well, it’s a special place. Unique. I don’t know why you’re in such a twist, but I wouldn’t be so quick to leave it behind if I was you. Give it a day or two.” She gave Mallory a smile and a cold little wink. “Our little town might just grow on you.”
    Mallory swallowed down the last bite of her waffle and pushed the plate across the counter. “Sounds like I might not have much of a choice,” she said.
    Trudy shrugged. “We’ll just keep you however we can.” She smiled again and cleared the plate and silverware back to the kitchen window. “Seeing how you’ll be here for at least the night, you’ll