Between the Stars

Chapter Three

Sam trailed after Charlie as she led the way back towards town. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck as the midday sun soaked into his dark sweatshirt, and he found himself wishing he could take it off. He picked at the sleeves, his frustration rising as the fabric chafed against the reason he couldn't.

Downtown Ferrisburg was much busier now than the last time he'd been there. People passed in and out of shops and children skipped around playfully as their parents herded them towards the beach. They passed a clothing store and an art gallery before Charlie paused in front of a tiny shop sandwiched in between two tall buildings. The beat-up sign above the door displayed Tony's in faded red letters; the y swooped underneath the rest of the word in a whimsical way. Sam couldn't help but think it looked like someone had plucked the whole thing out of the middle of New York City and jammed it into an alley in Michigan.

Sam came to a halt beside Charlie as she let two people exit the shop before she stepped inside. The door creaked closed behind them as the smell of fresh bread wrapped around Sam like a blanket. The shop was just as narrow as it appeared from the outside, and a counter cut off the front of the room from the long back area where the kitchen was.

"Hi Tony!" Charlie called.

The man behind the counter turned around at the sound of her voice.

"Charlie, monella, how are you? And you've brought a friend!" He said in a heavy Italian accent.

He was shorter than both of them, with a gray ring of hair around his head and an impressive handlebar moustache. White flour splattered across his black t-shirt and apron and he beamed at them as they approached the counter.

"This is Sam," Charlie told him. "His family moved here for the summer."

Sam managed a small smile as he nodded in greeting.

"Wonderful, wonderful." Tony wiped his hands on a towel and threw it over his shoulder. "You will want a sandwich, yes?"

"Please," Charlie replied. "I see you finally got your new menu up?"

She gestured to the massive chalkboard that hung on the wall. Colorful words spelled out each sandwich and its contents, along with a soup of the day.

"My granddaughter is to thank." Tony's wrinkled face crinkled even more with joy as he turned to look at the board. "Such an artista she is."

He turned back to them. "Which sandwich, diavolina?"

"The classic, please. And a lemonade."

Tony nodded and punched a few buttons on the old cash register. "And your friend?"

Sam glanced at the chalkboard.

"Um, the same for me I guess," he said as he scanned the list.

Tony gave a decisive nod and punched a few more buttons on the machine. Charlie handed him the money as the till opened with a loud ca-ching!

"Un minuto." He handed her the change and made his way to the large butcher-block table behind him.

There were no tables in the narrow shop, so he and Charlie stood and watched Tony work. His hands moved quickly as he piled salami, pepperoni, spinach, tomato, mozzarella, and pesto on the bread and wrapped them up in brown paper with a flair.

"Here you are, Miss Charlie," Tony said as he delivered both sandwiches onto the front counter.

"Thanks," Charlie said with another wide smile.