Closing time for Cavalier's Linda

It’s not business as usual at the Cavalier Store on Rivermont Avenue these days. Linda Williams isn’t there any more.

No, this isn’t one of those Lives to Remember stories — Linda is still very much with us. Nor has she moved away. But increased problems with a lung condition have forced her to stop working in the Cavalier kitchen after 20 years, and that has left it a different place.

“It’s a lot quieter, for one thing,” said owner Wells Duffy.

You will notice that there will be no quotes from Linda herself in this piece. I was afraid that if I told her I was doing a column about her leaving, she would ask me not to, and I would have to honor that. I’ve always done what Linda told me to do.

This way, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. And it may keep her from having to explain, over and over again, why she’s gone missing.

“It’s killing her not to be working,” Duffy said, “and we really miss her, but she just couldn’t keep it up.”

Linda once noted, in a tone more matter-of-fact than bragging: “They say Wells would have to hire three people to replace me if I left.”

So far, Duffy — known for his frugality — is making do with an extra one.

One of the perks of being a local columnist is that I can write about people just because they’ve always interested me, or because I think they might interest you. Linda is one of them. I write about the Cavalier on occasion, too, because it seems to attract a broader cross-section of Lynchburg than any other establishment in the city.

Some of the wealthier people in the city (or their sons and daughters) occasionally stop by for a cheeseburger or a beer. Once there, especially on a weekend, they’ll find themselves mixing with construction workers, Randolph College students, and maybe families with kids. It’s the closest approximation in Lynchburg I’ve seen to a New York-style neighborhood bar — not surprisingly, since Wells Duffy once lived in Syracuse.

I didn’t know Linda Williams well. Not even Duffy did. But I knew her as one of those rare people who can be both curmudgeonly and likable at the same time.

“Before I took over the Cavalier, she and I worked together at Repast of St. Paul,” Duffy said. “That was her night job, and she also worked days. But I never knew at what.”

At the Cavalier, she only occasionally left the kitchen, where she turned out — among other things — cheeseburgers that were consistently picked as the tastiest in town by those “Best of” polls. But when she emerged, she usually had something to say.

“Linda has very strong opinions,” Duffy said, “and she’s not shy about expressing them.”

When Duffy left around 5, the Cavalier became Linda Williams’ domain, and she ruled it with an iron spatula.

“People were scared to ask for food if it got close to the cutoff time for the kitchen,” said longtime Cavalier regular Gray Saunders. “They didn’t want to make her mad.”

A small but feisty woman, Linda was as protective of the Cavalier as a territorial watchdog. The story is told about an inebriated patron (not a regular, Duffy always points out) who decided for some intoxicated reason to wrench the sink off the wall in the men’s room. People who were there swear Linda chased him out the door and down the street with a baseball bat.

Speaking of swearing, though, Linda would fine anyone who uttered profanity inside the walls of the Cavalier. Each indiscretion cost a quarter, and the money accumulated in a jar until it was donated to some charity of the moment, most recently the Crisis Line of Central Virginia.

“She even fined me,” Duffy said. “In fact, she would fine me if I said something over the phone.”

Don’t get me wrong — Linda had her affable side, and she would sometimes come out and engage Cavalier patrons in small talk. Sometimes she would do this as she began mopping the floor directly under the feet of anyone playing pool near closing time.

Closing time was always when Linda said it was. Until now.