Marcus laughed too, and this time he did not hide it.
The sound came from somewhere deep and cracked open.
Not polished.
Not pretty.
But real.
Later that morning, when road crews finally cleared enough of the highway for travel to begin again, nobody rushed out.
Drivers helped shovel the walkway.
Someone cleared snow from the diner sign.
Someone checked the heater.
Another driver looked at the kitchen shelves and started making a list of supplies.
Tara tried to protest when three women from two different trucks marched into the kitchen and began washing dishes like they owned the place.
“Absolutely not,” Tara said. “You are guests.”
One of the women smiled.
“Honey, last night we were guests. This morning we’re family.”
Tara blinked hard and handed her a towel.
Marcus sat at the counter with Sam, Denise, and Will, looking at numbers scribbled on napkins.
Nobody gave legal advice.
Nobody promised magic.
They simply talked like practical people.
How many drivers could Everwind feed each day?
What hours made sense?
Could the parking lot be cleared regularly?
Could local farms supply eggs and potatoes?
Could a few carriers call ahead with rough counts so Marcus wasn’t surprised?
Could Tara help manage orders if business picked up?
Tara heard her name from across the room.
“I am not becoming a manager unless I get a better apron,” she called.
Sam grinned.
Marcus looked at her.
“You want to?”
Tara shrugged, suddenly shy.
“I want this place to live.”
That was answer enough.
By afternoon, the storm had moved on.
