Even though Sundays are off days, Nancy Grammley is always up before the sun rises. Standing before her vanity, she looks into the mirror and adjusts her perfectly cut and colored blonde hair. Not too long, not to short, just perfect. At 65 years old, Nancy feels confident in the way she looks. Her husband Tibby is always complimentary. Speaking of Tibby, Nancy wonders when he will get up. She picks up her coffee cup and walks into the bedroom “Tibby, are you getting up?” she asks. “I am now,” he says.
Thibedeau “Tibby” Grammley is thoroughly enjoying his retirement. The former plant safety manager enjoys golf, television, and having multiple meals per week at the Dixie Café’, a staple in the Grammley’s hometown of Sawyer Lake, AL. Tibby throws the covers back and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “What do you want for breakfast?” asks Nancy as she examines the closet in order to decide which shirt to iron for her husband.
“Tibby, breakfast. What can I fix you?” repeating her question. “Let’s just go to the Dixie Café,” he replies. “Oh Tibby, you ate there four days last week and for goodness sakes, I work there five days. We see enough of the café,” she exclaims. “Well, I’ll eat a couple of eggs and some toast,” he requests. Nancy nods in approval as she pulls a pin stripe shirt from the closet and a pair of black pants. “By the way, I’m not cooking lunch today, so we can eat out after church,” she says. Tibby’s face lights up as he wipes sleep from his eyes replying, “great, we’ll go to the Dixie Café.” Nancy could only muster a simple eye roll.
At the end of the church service, Nancy always makes a point to speak to everyone she sees on the way out. Striking up conversations with those around you is the only way to learn what’s going on. She spends most of her shift at the Dixie Café’ listening to customer’s conversations and relaying their stories to others. It is a vice. She learned how to gossip or “pass information” along at a young age from her grandmother and great aunts. They used to listen in on the “party line” in Sawyer Lake in the 60s and 70s and repeat the conversations of others. It always intrigued young Nancy. Tibby is pulling at Nancy’s arm, she can barely relay her suggestions on the sermon to Pastor Shane. “I’m hungry, let’s go to lunch,” Tibby pleads. Nancy knows right away it is his blood sugar. The two Grammley’s get in their Buick and head toward the café.
The café is busy but winding down since Pastor Shane ran over today, an apparent sin Tibby spewed over and over in the car. The Grammley’s take a seat in a corner booth. Nancy’s coworker Lovella yells from behind the counter, “Girl what are you doing in here on your off day?” Nancy points her finger at Tibby and Lovella just shakes her head.
Waitress Evelyn Rhineheart, who looks exactly like a shorter version of Nancy walks up to the table with a young girl trailing her. “Hey Evelyn. Tibby just had to come in and have the hamburger steak today, and I just didn’t want to cook,” explains Nancy. Evelyn tells Nancy she understands completely and introduces Chancey to her coworker. “Oh when did you start, honey?” asks Nancy. “Last night was my first shift, but they called me back in today, so I reckon I’m doing it right,” says the tall thin redhead with the thick southern accent.
“Are y’all gonna take my order or what?’ demands Tibby. “Settle down Tibby, get us the usual,” says Nancy. Chancey looks down at Tibby like she wants to slap him and then walks away to put the order in. “Evelyn, what’s her story? I didn’t even know they were hiring someone else. What kind of name is Chancey?” asks Nancy. “You act like an ole busy body,” proclaims Tibby. Both Evelyn and Nancy stare down Tibby and he knows, low blood sugar or not, he’s busted.
Once the meals arrive, Tibby scarfs his down and then requests a slice of pie, but Nancy nips that in the bud, and Tibby retreats from battle. “Oh look there’s the Mayor,” says Nancy. Tibby throws up his hand as Levi Curtis waves to the couple. The Mayor is credited with rebuilding the town after the 2018 tornadoes. The head cook Vince, a tall and graying older man with an athletic build and a bright smile emerges from the kitchen to shake the mayor’s hand and deliver his to-go order of chicken and dumplings. Just as Vince notices Tibby and Nancy, Chancey walks by with a full tray of glass ketchup bottles. She is holding the tray above here head while walking between tables.
“Chancey, be careful with….oh crap!” exclaims Vince as Chancey stumbles and ketchup bottles go flying off the tray. Most fall to the tile floor , break and splatter. But three fall and land directly on the Grammleys table, breaking and splattering both Nancy and Tibby. He in his pin striped shirt and black pants, she in her pale blue blazer over white silk, with matching blue slacks, now covered in ketchup. Vince, Lovella, and Evelyn all rush around checking on the customers while Chancey collapses in the floor crying.
“You just had to come to the Dixie Café today, Tibby,” whimpers Nancy, looking down at her stained clothing. “Don’t lay this on me Nancy, it’s your fault we are eaten here!” he rebuts. “Excuse me?’ she asks. “How exactly is it my fault when you chose the café? Tibby looks around at the chaos, down at the table, the ketchup everywhere. He’s trying to gather the courage to say it….”It’s your fault, because you didn’t cook.” There is no verbal response. The sudden handful of ketchup hurling toward Tibby’s face is sufficient enough. Bulls eye.
“Tibby Let’s Go To Lunch” is just one of the stories in the upcoming book, “The Dixie Café “ based on the play of the same name. The Dixie Café ran from November 2018 to May 2019 raisig over $7,500 for various charities.
