Two days down and—
Never mind. Doing the math on my time left at Uncle Charlie’s will only cast me into a pit of despair. That or tweak my rotten attitude, which can’t afford to ripen much more. It already stinks, even to me.
The greasy diner, the love of Charlie’s life, has nosedived since my teen years. What happened to the families that once made up the bulk of my uncle’s customer base? Now, it’s all burly guys who flirt and leer and insinuate—and track mud across floors I’m going to be the one mopping up at ten o’clock tonight.
Yep, me. I was five minutes into my new assignment when showered with the happy news that Charlie’s current staffing situation lies at a point somewhere on a spectrum between problematic and dire.Lovely. Not only am I performing owner and manager tasks, I’m also filling in for cooks and dishwashers. Worst of all, I’ll be forced to wait tables far more than I care to. Which, if I had my way, would be none at all.
I’m already sick of this place with its sticky menus, walls, and floors. I’m tired of the holiday season too. Ready for a new year and new chapter—although, thanks, Charlie, I’ll be living that new chapter from yet another apartment community.Shoot. I really want my own backyard.
The table of yahoos in back is particularly obnoxious. The guy with scraggly blond hair escaping from his grimy cap is simply awful, but there’s also the big guy, the gawker built like an ox. I’m not sure he was checking me out so much as he was too dumb to form words. The type who plows his way through life by virtue of his strength, only bringing his mind out on special occasions.
Am I exaggerating a tad? More than likely. Being unduly nasty? Definitely.
Probably I should duck into the bathroom and read a few Bible verses on my phone.
Maybe after the lunch rush.
To Mr. Wide Shoulders’ credit, I think he was also the one to shut the creep down, but my back was turned. He indistinctly mumbled his order earlier, so I can’t be certain, but the dark chocolate voice that rose in my defense sure didn’t fit any of the others.
The moose has nice eyes, too. I will give him that.
Several minutes later, I glance up from the coffee I’m pouring into the cup of an elderly gentleman at the counter. Phone to ear, the big guy pushes through the front door, jingling the sleigh bell on the end of a red ribbon. I hung it there yesterday to lend a modicum of holiday cheer.
Wow, he’s even bigger than I realized. A solid six-three or maybe four, wide shoulders, and…well, just wide. Kind of a hoss of a man. The guy on speed dial whenever friends and family have a move planned. If he owns a pickup, he probably never gets a weekend to himself.
By the time I make my return trip to the table of obnoxiousness, all the chairs are empty. I prefer to check people out at the register, but since we’re shorthanded, money on the table will suffice. Lots of Charlie’s crowd do it this way anyhow.
Green bills are set atop each of the four tickets I delivered. Except for one.
Hoss is a dine-and-dasher.
Creep.No wonder Uncle Charlie is a grump.
I jam the unpaid check into my apron pocket. I remember the logo on their work clothes and hats, so I could sic the cops on him.
Eh, fifteen bucks isn’t worth the trouble.
But rest assured, Hoss has received his last meal from this establishment.
The fixture above the stove glows when I enter the house through the laundry room door at nearly eleven. Light from the living room television flickers and flashes. Mom smiles at me from her recliner while a black and white movie plays on the big screen. A cream-colored turtleneck peeks above the ruffly neckline of her nightgown.
Nothing has changed in the years I’ve been on my own. Yes, the weather is raw, but Mom wears the extra shirt even in September. As long as I’ve been her daughter, she’s complained her neck gets cold.
She mutes the television. “Hi, honey. How was your day?”
I drop onto the sofa and throw my head into the cushion. A rush of diner stink swirls around me. “I don’t know how Uncle Charlie stands it there.”
She reproves me with a frown. “That diner is his life, Everly.”
Oh, right. Saddest story I’ve heard in a long time.
I press my hands, already chapping from bleach water, to my cheeks. “I know it is, Mom, but it’s a ton of work. How does he manage?” My back and feet are screaming rude things at me.
Mom’s chuckle is humorless. “Well, considering he just had a heart attack, that’s not a tough question to answer.”
True enough.
“If he can’t return to work, he’ll be heartbroken.”
