“We’ll make it work, baby,” he used to say. “This place… it’s going to be a light. A lighthouse in the mountains.”
“I failed you, Robert,” I whispered to the empty room. The silence that answered me was heavier than the snow piling up against the door.
I began to pace. The linoleum floor was worn down in paths—from the counter to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the coffee station. My life, measured in footsteps. I thought about Sterling’s face again. The arrogance. The way he dismissed Robert’s memory as a “hobby.” Anger flared in my chest, hot and sudden. It wasn’t fair. We had given everything to this community. We had fed people who couldn’t pay. We had sheltered drivers when the roads were ice. And this was the reward? To be discarded like trash?
The coffee pot gurgled behind the counter. It was half-full, the brew black and bitter, sitting there since noon. No one had come in for hours. The storm had shut down everything. Highway 70 was a white void. Even the truckers, usually the brave knights of the road, were parked on the shoulders miles back.
I should close up. Flip the sign. Lock the door. Save the electricity, though it hardly mattered now. The bank would own the electric bill next week anyway.
I wrapped my cardigan tighter around myself. It was freezing in here. The heating system was groaning, fighting a losing battle against the mountain drop. I walked to the window and wiped a circle in the condensation.
Nothing. Just white. A swirling, chaotic wall of snow. The gas pumps were already buried, looking like strange, frozen gravestones. It felt like the end of the world. And maybe it was. My world, at least.
I went back to the counter and picked up the foreclosure notice. I should burn it. Just light a match and watch Sterling’s signature curl into black flakes. But what good would that do? It wouldn’t stop the sheriff. It wouldn’t bring Robert back.
“Seven days,” I said aloud. The voice didn’t sound like mine. It sounded old. Defeated.
I grabbed the rag and started wiping the counter, just for something to do. Back and forth. Back and forth. The repetitive motion soothed the panic rising in my throat. I cleaned a spot that was already clean. I rearranged the sugar dispensers. I straightened the napkin holders.
