The Food Desert
Copyright© 2019 by qhml1
Chapter 23
I had just returned from one of our talks. It had been a good session and I was on top of the world when I walked in to the restaurant. Sandy and I ate lunch together nearly every day, a standing date. Her bulge was obvious, and her regulars asked for updates, often. A few wanted to hold a shower for her, and she responded by inviting them to the one the Grandmothers were planning. She’d just won Restaurant of the Year from the city, and I promised to hang a copy in my office alongside the awards I’d won over the years.
A couple of young guys followed me in but I paid them no attention. Her prices were reasonable enough for most all to eat there and it was always a mixed crowd. I didn’t realize anything was wrong until I heard a gasp from her hostess. A shotgun boomed.
I turned slowly, glad Sandy was in the kitchen. There were two of them early twenties or late teens. You could tell from the looks on their faces that at least one was high and the other needed a fix, judging from the way his hands were shaking I slowly raised my hands. The boys started screaming about this being a robbery and everyone needed to stay cool.
“All right. Everyone needs to be cool. Ginny, open the till and step back. It’s only money.”
She did what I said, and one slung the shotgun over his shoulder and started shoveling the money into a bag. The other held what looked like a military rifle, waving it in the general direction of the patrons.
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