Chapter 4

Nate waited until he was sure Phebe was asleep before he gently moved a strand of hair from the left side of her face. He carefully lifted her feet from his thighs and softly placed them on the couch cushion, standing and glancing around for the light switch which he turned off, and then he walked back to the chair he had originally been seated in, watching through the shadows of the room as Phebe slept.

Nate sat for a long time in the darkened living room, feeling the guilt of his past slowly leaving him, finally freeing himself from the Curse of The Lunch Lady. He closed his eyes and soon he was asleep too.

Nate woke to noises coming from the kitchen, and the smell of coffee, bacon and eggs. His Valentine gifts had been removed from the coffee table. He rubbed his eyes, stood from the chair (he noticed that Phebe had tossed a blanket on him) and stretched before stepping into the kitchen. There was a jar of jelly, a butter dish, a pitcher of milk, and some orange juice on the table. The roses were in a vase in the center of the table.

"Eggs?" Phebe asked from where she stood at the stove, looking rested and refreshed.

"That would be nice," Nate smiled.

"I put the Valentine champagne in the refrigerator to chill," she said. "You can pour it into the orange juice if you want."

Nate did as she suggested while she prepared the eggs, dishing them onto two plates on the table, along with some strips of bacon.

"Grammy was the cook, so I can make no guarantees," Phebe warned.

"You work in a diner with the masters of Blue County," Nate replied. "I'm sure it's great."

"All set," Phebe said, taking a seat at the table to Nate's right and pouring herself some coffee.

"Thanks for doing this," Nate said. "I never eat breakfast anymore."

"Elaine used to sign the valentine cards, didn't she?" Phebe guessed.

"Yeah," Nate said with a sentimental smile. "I try to carry on the traditions."

"That's good," Phebe said, comforted by the buoyancy she was feeling on this new morning. The house felt warmer and cozier than usual.

She watched Nate eat, as if he had always been there. She took a bite of her breakfast, and then another, and another, realizing just how hungry she was.

"It's very good," Nate told her.

"Thanks," she said.

"I should have talked to you."

"What?" Phebe squinted at him.

"In high school," he clarified. "I shouldn't have cared what other people thought, and I should have talked to you. Sat with you at lunch. Complimented your grandmother for her great work instead of mocking the two of you."

"Yes," she agreed. "You should have."

"I know I would have liked you."

"Do you like me now?" She asked with interest.

"Yes," Nate confirmed, clearing his throat. He was afraid to ask her if she liked him.

"Why are you telling me this?" She wanted to know.

"You deserve a valentine," he replied.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Phebe asked.

"Dead people who come back?" Nate asked for verification.

"Yes," she said.

"I'm not sure," Nate admitted.

"My mother disappeared like a ghost," Phebe remarked. "I used to look for her. There's pictures of her, mostly hidden away in photo albums shoved in drawers, but I used to sneak them out and take looks. And then I'd look for her when I was out. I always wondered what I'd say if she walked into Johnny C's Diner."

"But she never did," Nate realized.

"Instead, you sent my grandmother a Valentine."

"I didn't send it," he reminded her.

"Close enough," she replied. "God sent it. Jesus sent it. And now here we are."

Nate stared at her for a long moment. "Would you like to be my Valentine?" He asked.

Phebe took a long sip from her Champagne-Orange Juice glass while staring at him over the rim of the glass. "Would you like to go see my grandmother?" She wanted to know.

"Yes," Nate answered. "That would be nice."

She reached her hand out and Nate took it in his.

"You don' t hate me so much now?" He asked hopefully.