Page 5 of Saved By the CEO

TWO

My phone rings the second I come home. I look at the screen and steel myself.

“Hi, Mom.”

We chit-chat a bit while I prepare dinner. Tonight’s special is ramen noodles and a Dr. Pepper. I open the can with a satisfying crack and put the phone on speaker.

“So how’s the diner?”

Mom has worked as a waitress at Jensen’s Diner for as long as I can remember. While other kids spent their weekends at the park, I spent mine in a booth near the pie display, coloring on paper placemats while Mom worked double shifts.

“Oh, it’s—” She pauses. “Great.”

I stop halfway through opening the ramen packet.

“Mom?”

There’s some rustling on the other end. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. Now tell me?—”

“Mom,” I interrupt. “What’s going on?”

She sighs.“The diner closed down.”

I drop the packet in shock.

“Why?”

“Jensen wanted to retire. He tried to sell it but didn’t get any offers, so he decided to just close it down.”

“He can’t do that,” I say, appalled.

“He owned the place, hun. It was his call. He’s also quite old—almost eighty. You can’t really blame him.”

Watch me.

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve gone back one last time.”

Mom laughs softly. “You haven’t visited once since you moved away.”

“I’ve been busy,” I try to explain, though I feel like absolute shit saying it. “My job is very demanding, and it’s hard to get time off.”

“It’s all right. I’m just happy you’re out there doing something with your life. So please, tell me about what’s going on with you. How’s work?”

“Work’s great. I still love it,” I lie. I never did. I hate my job with the burning passion of a thousand suns. “I’ve gotten more responsibility recently. I’m doing a press thing on Friday.”

“Oh, that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you, Carly.”

“Thanks,” I say, though it tastes bitter in my mouth. I pick up the dropped noodles as a thought hits me. “So where do you work now?”

“Oh, here and there. Mr. Roberts was kind enough to give me some shifts at the hardware store, and I’ve been helping the young couple at the end of the street when they need someone to babysit their two little boys. They’re rowdy, I tell you. Just last week I?—”

I tune her out while she tells her story. I’m too preoccupied with the fact that she’s definitely not making enough money to sustain herself right now.

I wait for her to finish talking.

“That’s hilarious.” Probably. “So, I was thinking. I make good money, and I want to start giving back. You raised me, and?—”

“Oh, honey, you don’t owe me a dime.”