“Finally. An institution that respects working women.”
The bell chimed when we entered.
Three people sat at the counter. An older couple occupied a booth by the window. A waitress stood behind the register reading a magazine.
Everyone looked at us.
Mostly because Claire’s dress was emitting light.
The waitress lowered the magazine.
“Prom?”
“Award show,” Claire said.
I stared at her.
“What?”
“You won.”
The waitress looked at me more closely.
Recognition flickered.
I prepared the smile.
Before it arrived, she shrugged.
“Congratulations. Sit anywhere.”
Claire leaned closer.
“I love her.”
We took a booth at the back.
The menu contained forty-three items, none involving foam.
Claire ordered pancakes, eggs, hash browns, toast, bacon, and a chocolate milkshake.
The waitress looked at me.
“Coffee.”
Claire closed the menu.
“She’ll have pancakes too.”
“I don’t want pancakes.”
“You’re wearing borrowed diamonds beside a highway at one in the morning. You want pancakes.”
The waitress waited.
“Pancakes,” I said.
When she walked away, Claire reached across the table and touched the trophy I had placed beside the napkin dispenser.
