A little before noon a small group rode up to the station's entrance on bicycles. Thom recognized the matching aqua blue bikes as being from the Sea House, a bed and breakfast on Bay St., one of the few places that offered bikes to guests. After carefully locking their bikes and coming in, the couple which seemed to be in charge of making all the arrangements walked up to the counter.
"Good morning," Thom said.
"Hi," the woman said, and without stopping "We want one of those sightseeing trains tours, the one that stops at places and lets you get on and off." She giggled a little as she pretended to act business like. She was imitating her dad at the entrance to some theme park, being specific with the college age ticket vendor about which parks he wanted to visit and which he did not.
"You've come to the right place," Thom folded the Miami Herald, the other paper he read every day, stepped down from his chair back stool, swivel, and stood across the counter from the couple who were bent over a bright yellow and green map of the historic district dotted with advertising for restaurants, museums, gift shops and churches offering tours.
"We have a variety of packages available, all which include the train tour and Kahn’s Museum of the Incredible and a variety of other museums and attractions depending on your schedule and interests. How much time do you have today?"
It was the same opening pitch Thom gave every day, many times an hour, yet he was able to do it with just enough sincerity as to engage his customers. Invariably they would look up at him, willing to buy what he's selling.
The women looked at him and told him they were all public defenders in the fifth judicial circuit and were in town attending a required continuing education class. The session included some group immersion, so the class was small; all housed in the same B&B, the Sea House, and the seminar was held in the living room over a coffee table instead of a conference table. This was their free day and most just wanted to play tourist, “as a group” the couple said in unison.
“So that will be eight people, right?” Thom asked the couple.
The women turned around to the others who were browsing the brochure rack and called to one who was standing by the window.
“Beth, are you going with us on the tour?”
The woman who was standing alone, looking out the station’s window and toward the Castillo answered with a polite charm.
“No, I want to take a walk, but we’ll meet for lunch, okay?” she asked, indirectly to the whole group.
The women turned back to Thom and said, “There will be seven of us,” and then added “where do you suggest we have lunch?”
As Thom processed her credit card he gave another rote but freshly delivered standard reply when asked for recommendations: "While it would not be fair to favor one restaurant over another...St. Augustine has many fine restaurants...catering to a wide variety of tastes...and budgets...I am certain you will soon have your very own new favorite place.”
Just as Thom finished and before there could be a follow-up question, a train pulled up and the group were off exchanging shouts back to Beth “See you at lunch. We’ll call you.” to which she waved, “okay.”
The train pulled away ringing its bell and silence fell over the room. Beth walked towards the counter and asked “So, where is a good place to eat?”
"Corner Cadiz," Thom answered without hesitation. "Good simple luncheon food done well with a bit of flair, they can go Southern or Mediterranean or Thai, the ice tea is a special recipe which includes red clover and hibiscus, the whole flower, not cut, and the bread is baked daily by the owner’s brother-in-law, but I can’t say any of that officially, you know...have to be fair to all and all that.”
Then he added, “Is there any other information I might help you with”
She had reached the counter but stood back from it, planted squarely on both feet.
“Yes there is. If you were me, how would you spend your day in St. Augustine?”