“I wonder what they’ll do in California?” said Mae.
“Who?”
“Them folks that was just in.”
“Christ knows,” said Al.
“S’pose they’ll get work?”
“How the hell would I know?” said Al.
She stared eastward along the highway. “Here comes a transport, double. Wonder if they stop? Hope they do.” And as the huge truck came heavily down from the highway and parked, Mae seized her cloth and wiped the whole length of the counter. And she took a few swipes at the gleaming coffee urn too, and turned up the bottle-gas under the urn. Al brought out a handful of little turnips and started to peel them. Mae’s face was gay when the door opened and the two uniformed truck drivers entered.
“Hi, sister!”
“I won’t be a sister to no man,” said Mae. They laughed and Mae laughed. “What’ll it be, boys?”
“Oh, a cup a Java. What kinda pie ya got?”