Chapter Text
2021
Unless there was a need to return because of new Supernatural phenomena, or the town was just off a main highway and between here and there in their travels, the Winchesters rarely visited the same Main Street community twice.
So it wasn't unusual that they hadn't stopped at the Beck's small-town restaurant for twenty years. Except, the small town wasn't so small. It looked more prosperous. A busy downtown with new shops, more new homes, new schools, more trees, a big park with ballfields that they hadn't noticed on their first visit.
And the sign over the restaurant now read Lily's in fancy blue script.
It was lunch time. Outside, even with a bigger paved property, Baby had to squeeze in at the far end of the parking lot. Raised planters filled with summer flowers dotted the curbs along the sidewalks, and there was a little garden near the front door, with tables and chairs for outdoor dining.
Inside, the place was bustling. Everything looked bigger and fancier: two dining rooms and a squadron of servers.
The customers were the same cross-section of Americana: local families, businesspeople, tourists, truckers and cops, and people just passing through. But the demographics had changed, Sam noticed. Now it looked more like you might see at a busy international airport. Different ethnicities, different dress, different languages. All enjoying some fine cooking that was pulling travelers, casual tourists, and foodies from around the region.
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Mrs. Faith Richardson had barely aged. Still the best-dressed woman in the room in a red and gold creation that showed off her curves. (Sam's old crush reawakened.) Tapping away, two-fingered, at a computer keyboard, eyes on the screen at the hostess station.
She was busy greeting people, making everyone feel welcome, assigning tables, pairing servers and customers, and fielding questions, all the while keeping an eye on the computer, tracking tables and incoming reservations. Answering the phone with a smile.
From the kitchen, which seemed bigger than the last visit, the operatic voice of Mr. Calvin Richardson cut through the cheerful clamor of the dining rooms. A chorus of "Yes, Chef" followed his orders.
And strolling among the tables, managing the floor staff, and making sure all of the customers were happy, was Mrs. Lily Richardson. The coat was gone, replaced by a tailored suit in blue. The cloche had transformed into an outrageous fascinator, decorated with a fresh sprig of lily-of-the-valley blossoms.
Following her like baby ducks were two teenage girls, dressed in blue uniforms, who would dart away to fetch a pitcher of water or more napkins, whisper in the ear of a server, or quickly clear a table, taking the dishes to a service window and trotting back to Mrs. Richardson. A strong family resemblance clued in Sam and Dean that they probably were Faith and Calvin's girls, helping out at the family business.
Dean and Sam didn't want to intrude, but the delicious smells coming out of the kitchen, and the display of fresh cakes and pies at the front counter made the decision for them.
At first, Faith didn't register who the Winchesters were. Not a surprise, given that the last time they met was literally a generation ago. What was a surprise was the identity of the assigned waitress, a smiling Martha Beck in a blue uniform, grey hair fashioned in a stylish bob, with a sprig of lilies-of-the-valley pinned over her name tag.
"Thank you, Mrs. Richardson," said Dean, as they began to follow Martha.
Faith looked up, her eyes widened, and she let out what her husband later described a battlefield war whoop. She whipped around the station and tackled both men in rib-crushing hugs.
Martha stood back, looking confused. Maybe old friends from Chicago?
Calvin came rushing out of the kitchen, armed with a wicked-looking carving knife. He was dressed in a blue chef's coat and matching toque. The ubiquitous white flowers were embroidered over his name, which was stitched in white thread.
He stopped and froze. One of the other kitchen workers, dressed in white, gently removed the knife from his hand and returned it to the kitchen.
Actually the entire restaurant froze, heads turned as one to the front of the restaurant like a mob of meerkats. A quick chatter of "whos" and "whats" and "whys", and slowly returning to enjoy their bountiful meals.
Before Calvin could move, his mother, followed by her two grand girls, sailed up to the front, and captured the men. Waved Martha away with a smile and, after hugs and reaching up to kiss their cheeks, ushered the men to an empty table next to a window overlooking the garden. She told the girls that the men were V.I.Ps and "treat them like family" and "everything's on the house", then ordered the brothers, waving a finger in their faces, Not. To. Move. She'd be coming back after the lunch rush.
Calvin followed his mother over, and stood, beaming. Gave both boys a double-handed shake with a squeeze, muttered "my, my, my" and hurried back to the kitchen.
A basket of assorted breads and a glass dish of crudites magically appeared, along with water and coffee. The girls knew their jobs well.
The new menus were a revelation. They featured regional standards, like chicken pot pie, chopped salads, pork chops, lake trout, and anything that could be smothered with cheese.
However, in addition, there was a paper insert headlined "Today" with the kind of food you might encounter in a bistro in Chicago's Wicker Park. Fanciful descriptions like Elven Wild Mushroom Bisque and Elysian Fields Greens, Iron Mine Goblin Burgers, Dracula's Romanian garlic beef sausages, and Desert Trickster Tacos. Plus an array of Chicagoland treats under the heading Windy City Specials: Deep dish pizza, shrimp scampi, Chicago-style hotdogs nestled in poppy seed buns, Polish cabbage rolls, fried chicken (only on Friday nights), and barbeque ribs (only on Saturday nights).
And a dessert menu that featured homemade frozen custard, butterscotch pudding, cakes, oatmeal cookies, and...pie.
Both men had to loosen their belts. Twice.
The three Richardsons, after more hugs and kisses, eventually sat down with the Winchesters. Faith signaled her daughters to bring coffee and beer and wine and a platter of cookies for munching. Invited them to stay and listen to the grownups.
Both girls, twins, beautiful and smart, took after their parents and grandmother. Calvin's black eyes and height, Lily's amber curls and Faith's golden skin. Their last summer before college, saving up tips before they left. Gloria, who inherited her father's musical talent, was heading to Oberlin College's Conservatory and Lily May to the business school at the University of Chicago. She planned to return to work her way up in the business–no free rides for family–and take over when her parents and grandmother retired.
"All right, young men," said Lily, settling in as if she had all the time in the world. Around the restaurant, staff buzzed, efficiently clearing and resetting tables, restocking menus, and getting ready for the dinner shift, while serving late comers. The place seemed to be running like a proverbial Swiss watch.
The Winchesters had left the last time after Calvin had asked about a job at the Beck's restaurant and began a discussion with his family and Ted.
The brothers felt it was a private moment, and they said their good-byes. So they were eager to hear what happened.
The gist of their story: The Richardsons rented a house in town, and Calvin went to work at the restaurant as a weekend and relief fry cook, and Faith and Lily were hired on as waitresses. Best way to learn was by doing, sort of a paid apprenticeship. And it worked for Ted Beck, who was looking to the future. It didn't take long for him to see what a good fit the Chicago refugees were, and promotions came quickly. After a week of meetings with lawyers and accountants, the Richardson and the Beck families created what was in effect a lease-purchase arrangement that paid the Becks well over time and allowed them to stay on when the transfer of ownership was complete. And they still would share in a portion of the profits.
Lily Richardson, with her decades of experience of working with kids, turned out to be the one to eventually earn Martha's trust. The troubled woman agreed to take her meds. A makeover by fashionista daughter-in-law Faith didn't hurt.
It was not a fairy tale. Most dreams are hard won. Moving a household from Chicago to the hinterlands was exhausting. Precious items were broken and lost, unpacking was a nightmare, and then the landlord backed out on their deal to buy the house. They had to move two more times before finding THE house.
Calvin's years behind a desk did not prepare him for the physical toll of working on his feet in a hot kitchen for ten-hour shifts, of cuts and scrapes and burns. Back aches from lifting boxes just a little too heavy. And he hadn't had to deal with the soul-draining squabbles inherent in workplace politics before. The insurance company he had worked for in Chicago was a no-nonsense place, and people who gossiped and schemed didn't last long.
Faith's pregnancy was a blessing, but carrying the twins was stressful. (She looked over at her girls and blew them a kiss.) Bed rest for weeks and an all-consuming motherhood, even with the help of Mother Lily, put many of their plans on hold. Some months the Richardsons felt stuck, and even considered moving back to Chicago.
Their family knew how to armor themselves spiritually and emotionally against the sly remarks and petty passive-aggressive offenses that were a constant in their lives. But now they didn't have a community to retreat to where most people looked like them. They were truly a minority for the first time in their lives.
Faith and Lily were followed around in stores for a couple of years because of their skin color, which labeled them in some people's pea brains as shoplifters on the make. Some of the Beck's workers quit without notice after the Richardsons came on board. And it took a while for some of the kitchen employees to be used to having a black man as a boss. Calvin's competence, stern affect, and impressive This is God voice helped.
A few regular customers disappeared. Anonymous negative reviews were posted about the restaurant's otherwise five-star track record, but Lily managed to have them removed when she was able to show that the reviewers had never even been in the restaurant.
(Most of the former customers came back when they kept hearing rave reviews from friends and family about the tweaks of old favorite and the new menu items.)
Fortunately, the Beck family and most of the staff staunchly supported the Richardsons, as did many of their new neighbors and friends. One time a couple, longtime customers, asked for a different waitress when Lily approached their table to take their orders. Before she could respond Martha, who was now on Team Richardson, literally ran across the dining room and screeched at the rude man and wife, something she hadn't done since Lily had become her stalwart friend. Scared them out of the restaurant for good.
The customers at adjoining tables applauded. Martha winked at Lily and walked back to her assigned side of the room.
No one tried that again.
The Richardsons kept moving on and kept focused on the future.
The hardest part was the lost of the status they had counted on in Chicagoland. For the first few years in Small Town, the successful careers they had built in their hometown meant nothing. They found out that they had to win the trust and respect of their new co-workers almost daily, proving themselves over and over. They realized they had taken for granted that their reputations did not automatically move with them, like Faith's wardrobe, Calvin's cooking skills, and Lily's collection of books. (2000 and counting).
The win, they told the brothers, was sweeter, given the long hours and sacrifices it took to achieve it.
Dean and Sam looked at each, looked back at the Richardsons, smiled and nodded.
Now the family owns the restaurant. Ted stops by once in a while to work a shift as a host or server, just to say hello to old friends. Calvin gets to play in his foodie sandbox. Faith splits her work days between hosting and tweaking their social media. And Lily is the boss lady, meeting with bank presidents, architects, and lawyers, keeping the lights on and the bills paid, and working the floor at least twice a week to talk with the customers first hand.
The brothers stood up and applauded. Kisses and hugs all around. The girls giggled when Sam and Dean laid chaste kisses on their cheeks.
Everyone toasted the Richardson's making their dreams come true, with coffee, beer, wine, and, for the girls, old-fashioned root beer.
The Winchesters had deflected questions and encouraged the Richardsons to tell their story first, but now, no excuses. They knew that the family members were looking at them differently, a growing awareness that the brothers were not the same young men they had met 20 years before.
"Before you begin, you need to know something," said Calvin, in his deep preacher voice.
"If it wasn't for you boys, your simple act of kindness, we wouldn't be here. I would have gotten mad and madder and stormed out of the restaurant. Driven out of town to the nearest fast food joint. We would have eaten in the car, and I would have driven back to the old neighborhood and that would have been the end. I would have accepted the fact that dreams can't come true. Sort of the straw that broke the camel's back, you know.
"So, looking at you after twenty years, well, your eyes, I can tell, you have seen too much of the dark side of life. Maybe time in the military, maybe something else. But, whatever it is, whatever you did, we will still be the family you adopted. You saved us, maybe, we can save you."
Dean and Sam looked at each other. Sam leaned forward, folding his big hands on the table as if in prayer.
"Our dreams didn't come true," said Sam. "We had obligations and with them came choices, ones that we didn't always want to make.
"But, we did okay, at the end. I'm proud of us.
"Have you ever heard of Hunters?" he said.
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