Chapter 6 - THE SNOWSTORM AND THE SIXTY-ONE
Nan drove north along the lakeshore highway as twilight fell. The sky turned a bruised, icy purple, and a fresh wave of snow began to fall, swirling across the black asphalt like smoke.
By 5:15 PM, she pulled into the fire hall parking lot. The building was glowing with warm yellow light, steam rising from the vents into the frigid night air.
When Nan opened the side door, a wave of noise and heat washed over her.
The room was full.
The clatter of silverware, loud laughter, the low rumble of men's voices, and the bright chatter of children filled the hall. The air smelled rich and heavy—roasted turkey, rich gravy, dark brewed coffee, savory stuffing, and the scent of damp wool coats drying over the radiators.
"Nan's back!" Clara called out from behind the counter.
Chief Dale Miller walked over, holding a heavy porcelain mug. "You're just in time, Nan. We got a crowd."
Nan looked around the room, her heart swelling.
At the head table, sitting right in front of Martha’s ironed red linen tablecloth, was Mr. Kowalski. He was wearing his best tie, chatting animatedly with the young mother from Highway 9 whose furnace had broken. Her three small boys were at the end of the table, their faces smeared with cranberry sauce, happily playing with small wooden toys the auxiliary ladies had pulled from the donation bins.
In the corner, four hospital nurses in blue scrubs were laughing over second helpings of pie, looking relaxed and comfortable for the first time in days.
Two off-duty snowplow drivers were piling mashed potatoes onto their plates at the serving line.
"How many plates?" Nan asked, pulling her apron off the hook near the kitchen doors and tying it firmly around her waist.
"Fifty-eight so far," Beth called out, stirring a massive pot of gravy. "And three more coming through the door right now!"
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"Make it sixty-one!" Nan smiled, grabbing a ladle.
She stepped behind the steam table and went to work. The ache in her legs vanished; the coldness of Greg’s quiet, sterile living room melted away under the roar of sixty-one people eating, talking, and finding warmth together in a fire hall on a freezing night.
