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And Seven even made a joke… a dirty one.
Seven pulls up to a two-story building, and we’re lucky to find a parking spot right up front since the place looks like it is booming with customers.
I look up at the stucco façade painted a lively yellow and see the large lettering spelling out Scallywag’s on the side of the building with the same cartoon dog logo that was on the back of Seven’s shirt days ago.
A balcony on the second story has gorgeous pink and purple potted plants with flowery vines that cascade down the balcony and the sides of the building, bringing it all to life.
It feels bright and lively.
Whoever owns this place has obviously put a lot of love and care into it. There’s so much pride of ownership.
“We’re here,” he says, then puts the jeep in park and kills the engine.
I can already smell whatever they’re cooking in the kitchen, and it smells delicious.
“It smells good already.”
“The chef is impressive. You can’t go wrong with anything on the menu.”
Seven and I both exit the jeep, though I do it carefully so that I don't twist an ankle when I jump down.
I reach into the back, grab my laptop bag from the back seat, and then walk around to the front of the jeep.
Seven stands there with his keys in one hand and his other tucked in his pocket. He waited for me.
He didn’t technically have to wait, but it was a nice gesture, considering I can never tell if he wishes I’d just vanish one day and never return.
“You said that your neighbor owns this place, right?”
“Yeah, Rita. She and her husband have owned it for nearly twenty years. He passed away a couple of years ago, but she still runs it.”
My heart breaks immediately for her.
How awful.
I follow behind him on the narrow walkway that leads along the front of the building.
When we get a little closer, I see a sandwich board parked in front of the door.
WE’RE OPEN!!!
Neighborhood Breakfast
Everyone is welcome!
Kids eat for free.
If you can’t pay, come in anyway.
If you have extra to spare,
consider sponsoring a meal ticket!
Just by looking at the sign, I know I’m going to like Rita.
Seven looks at me as we pass by the sign.
“Rita is sort of like everyone's favorite aunt around here. She does a lot for the community. She’s offering free and discounted meals for everyone while people try to get back on their feet after the storm. We got lucky, but not everyone did.”
