“Eighteen people, four parties. Another bus will be here in a half hour.” He looked at me. “You hired someone else? That’s great!”
“I wish,” she told him. “This is my niece, Finley. She’s down for the week.”
He stuck out a hand, giving me a firm, businesslike shake. “Cardoon Biswas. Seasonal assistant manager at the Tides.”
The door opened. A disembodied arm emerged, gripping a stack of menus. Kasey grabbed them, handing some to Cardoon, and they both began distributing them down the now-forming line.
“Their kitchen is under renovation,” Kasey explained to me. “So we made a deal. Bacon for business.”
The door swung open again, just as another older couple was entering. It was Lana. “How many?”
“Four parties,” Kasey reported. “Another bus in thirty.”
Lana sighed. “This is a far from perfect system, just FYI.”
“It’s early days!” Cardoon told her. “We’ll work out the kinks.”
She went back inside, Kasey ducking in behind her. At the same time, two more cars pulled into spaces. I sat there for a moment. Then I climbed out of the truck, taking the flowers with me.
“How pretty!” said one woman waiting by the counter as I slipped in. I smiled at her, shifting the bucket to my other side. All around me, the Egg was bustling.
Crash!went something as it hit the floor, then shattered. I winced, reflexively.
Lana popped up from behind the counter. As she dumped some shards into the trash can, she said to Kasey, “Three tables are about to turn. Four, if number seven will stop asking for coffee refills.”
“I’ll get the counter seats.” Kasey grabbed a handful of silverware just as the phone started ringing.
“Order up!” I heard Clark yell from the window as he plunked down a plate. Paper tickets were fluttering above him in a row. “How’s that bacon?”
“Almost there,” Ben replied from where he faced the grill: All I could see were the words on the back of his shirt, blurring past.
The phone sounded again. Kasey came back behind the counter, grabbing it. “Egg, can I help you? Right. Anything else? Okay. Fifteen minutes.”
She hung up, then scribbled something on a pad, ripped offthe top page, and stuck it on a rickety spindle in the window. “To-go, in!”
“They’ll have to chill. I’m still doing this seven-top,” Clark replied.
A man in a blue golf shirt at the counter waved a hand at Kasey as she blurred past. “Can we get some coffee, maybe?”
“One sec, be right there,” she replied, slapping napkins down for him and the other waiting patrons. Silverware—a plunk for each fork, knife, and spoon—rapidly followed.
“Order up!” Clark said again. “Hello? Someone, get these eggs.”
Instead, Kasey grabbed an order pad, darting to the row of booths. At the door, I could see Cardoon’s head bobbing as he scanned for open seats. Meanwhile, Lana had procured a coffeepot, filling cups quickly down the counter. The phone started ringing again.
“This food needs to be run NOW!” Clark barked above the overlapping plates in the window. A tall stack of orders pierced the spindle. “Comeon!”
Kasey darted back across my sight line, grabbing a tray. Lighting fast, she loaded it up—some dishes hanging over the edge—then hoisted it to her shoulder.
Lana grabbed the ringing phone, tucking it between her ear and shoulder as she moved to the window. “Egg, how can I help you? Right. No cheese. Fifteen minutes.”
“There aren’t any seats left!” said a woman in large sunglasses by the door, who was fanning herself with a menu. “How are we supposed to eat? Standing?”
“I’ve got three to-go orders just sitting here,” Clark grumbled. “Anybody?”
The phone was already ringing again as Kasey came toward me with the tray and our eyes met. She looked so stressed: I could literally see her chest rising and falling, not unlike that hummingbird the day before.
“Can someone please get that?” Clark yelled.
