Synopsis: Angie Brown owns a small diner that provides no menus. She serves her customers using an unusual gift: on instinct alone, she knows exactly what food — and advice — each customer needs, usually before they ask. Regular patrons come for great food, but also for comfort, advice, and a feeling of being understood.
On a busy day, Angie brings dessert first to a young woman struggling with marriage tensions and helps her come up with a strategy to ease things at home. She provides a free meal to a homeless former restaurateur whose life unraveled after tragedy and is impressed with his discerning palate. Then the unthinkable happens — she serves a high-school student who reminds her of her late son, but for the first time, she cannot read his needs. This quiet young man’s presence unsettles her, but she takes his order graciously.
As their conversation unfolds, the stranger reveals that he is a messenger sent by Angie’s deceased son to guide the elderly woman toward her own transition from life. Tired and ready to face whatever fate is next, she makes sure to leave her beloved diner in capable and caring hands.
Sensitive and profound, Dear Angie celebrates compassion, generosity, acting on instinct, kindness, and the comforting idea that even death can be guided by love.
Footnote: I am currently working on a second act, Open All Night, which takes place twenty years later.
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