“I think the only cat who could catch this damned thing is a mountain lion. Anything else would lose the battle. Just like I have,” I mumble at the end.
“Ask Karina to open the diner tomorrow. I don’t think she’ll mind. Or you’ll end up falling asleep here.”
“Or killing someone,” I mumble under my breath.
“I would start with Dick.” Roman’s voice changes from playful to vicious. He hates Dick. Everyone in this diner does. We’re more like a family than coworkers, so we love or hate our partners and exes together. Plus, Roman has been like a father to me from the time I was born, and he sure stepped up when our parents died. He even was my prom date when Dick dumped me right before the dance. So yes, Roman is not just a cook at Moons’. He is one of the Moons.
“You and me both. But I love my freedom.”
“Cheryl will cover for you.”
I look at him without saying a word until he starts laughing.
“You’re right, she prolly won’t.”
Cheryl loves me, a lot, but she’s a rule follower, so I can’t see her breaking any laws even for me. I have a better chance of Roman bringing the shovel if I ever need to hide a body. There’s got to be something really special for her to enter any gray area.
The coffee machine beeps, indicating that morning cup of joe is ready. With a slightly happier heart, I grab the pot andpull it away from the station. But it catches onto something, and I end up jerking it rather than pulling. The hot liquid splashes on my hand, and I jump back on instinct. Leaving the pot on the station, unsecured in its spot. The pot slides to the side and shatters into a million glass pieces when it hits the floor.
Roman rushes out of the kitchen with his hands covered in dough. “Nora? Are you okay?”
I look at him, feeling my eyes starting to swell out of nowhere.
“Nora.” His voice softens as he rushes to my side, the dough sticking to his arms like gloves. “Honey. Don’t worry about that. I’ll help you clean it.”
“No,” I say, throwing my hand in the air to prevent him from coming closer. I can see he’s trying very hard not to smile. “I got it. Don’t worry about it.”
“Nora,” he insists, dropping his voice to the soothing tone he uses when I’m on the verge of losing it.
“I’m fine, Roman.” I wave him off again, but this time more gently. “Seriously. I’m probably just tired and clumsy. I really need some sleep.”
“You do,” Roman replies in a brisk, no-nonsense tone, as if diagnosing my condition. “I can call Karina and ask her to come earlier.”
“No, that’s fine,” I protest, secretly glad for the fatherly concern but wanting to handle this mess on my own. “I’ll ask her when she’s here. Don’t let her hang that awful skeleton on the front door while I’m gone.”
“Can’t promise. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” I sigh.
He watches me for a few moments before nodding and retreating to the kitchen. I clean the mess from the floor and go to grab the extra pot we have in the back.
My second attempt at coffee making ismore successful. Finally getting the much-needed caffeine, I feel slightly more like a human.
The rest of the day is as expected—shitty. Every single customer is grumpy, complaining about their coffee being too hot or too cold. We ran out of eggs, of all things, in the middle of the morning rush, and I had to run to the store to get more. The stove stopped working around nine, and we had to pause serving food for a couple of hours until Garry, the local technician, came to fix it. It’s a miracle he was available because he usually works in Little Hope on some project at the grocery store.
A bunch of loud frat boys stopped by for pancakes and weren’t very nice to my nineteen-year-old waitress, Letty, when they mistook her politeness for flirting. These types of things are not acceptable in our diner. Never have been, never will be.
I’m so on edge that even Karina stops bothering me about adding more decorations for Halloween. If it was up to her, our diner would not have an empty spot on the walls, and she keeps reminding me every single hour of every single day that “We could use more decor around here.” But I probably look close to murdering someone because she stopped asking around eleven a.m.
By the time the clock hits five p.m., I’m ready to climb the Maine lighthouse so aliens can whisk me away from this place. And this is when I see my neighbor walk in. Looking around hesitantly, he focuses on a few empty chairs at the bar counter.Great, to top off my already shitty day, he’s come to see the ‘crazy’ lady in action.
I come up to him and place an empty mug in front of him, already full of attitude toward him for yesterday’s comment. Knowing full well he didn’t say anything offensive or extraordinary, I’m still pissed. This is why I needed all my stones with me today.
His eyes widen when he notices me, as if he didn’t expect me to be here. In my own diner.
“Coffee?” I ask, raising the half-full pot in front of me.
“Yes, please.” He sounds almost… shy.
