Page 216 of Devil’s Disciples

His revenue for the day went to charity. On that same day, his employees – at their own insistence – refused to be paid. State law didn’t allow them to work for free, so they simply donated their wages right along with George’s revenue to the chosen charity for the month.

In support of him, his workers, and the restaurant’s way of conducting business, I ate at his establishment more than I ate at home. In many respects, the diner was my home.

I sucked a cream cheese remnant from the tip of my finger. I would have never guessed anything could have made a grilled chicken sandwich taste better, but the cream cheese, grilled jalapenos, and peach jam sure did a good job of it. I pushed my plate to the far side of the table and grinned a toothy grin. “That was awesome.”

George’s eyebrows raised. “How awesome?”

“There aren’t levels of awesome,” I explained. “Acceptance of foodstuffs is explained using the following expressions: okay, good, great, fantastic, and awesome. Awesome is the pinnacle of goodness.”

While searching my face for an answer, he reached for my empty plate. “Out of every sandwich you’ve eaten here, how does it rate?”

“For someone who hates repeating himself, you sure don’t mind asking others to do it, do you?” I asked jokingly. “I said it was awesome. So, for me, it’s the number one sandwich.”

“Good.” He flashed a quick smile. “We’ll call it The Abby.”

Having the sandwich named after me would be as awesome as the sandwich itself. “Get outta here,” I shouted excitedly. “Seriously?”

“If it’s your number one, that’s what we’re going to call it.”

“As soon as it’s on the menu, I’ll promote it to everyone I know,” I blurted.

He let out a laugh as he topped off my iced tea. “This place is far too small to have all of San Diego County in here trying to order the same sandwich. Maybe just tell the people in your meeting. How’s that?”

“Right now, there’s only six people in it. That’s if everyone comes, and they don’t all come at once,” I said.

“I know you’ve come to enjoy it, but that’s one meeting I wished was empty.”

The meeting he spoke of was a cancer support group. As much as I enjoyed doing what I could to help others cope with the emotions that came with being diagnosed – and with surviving – I wished the same thing. Despite that wish, I’d seen many faces come and go over the years.

“Are you walking, riding, running, or driving?” he asked.

“Riding,” I said.

He nodded toward the clock. “You better get to peddling.”

I glanced over my shoulder. It was fifteen before one, and the meeting started at one. Shocked at how much time had passed, I reached into my purse and fumbled to find my wallet. “I really need to start wearing a watch,” I murmured.

“Get to your meeting,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The sandwich isn’t on the menu yet. I can’t charge you for it.”

“Thank you,” I blurted. I took off in a dead run for the door. As I yanked it open, I shouted over my shoulder. “Love you, George.”

“Love you, too, Abby,” he said.

Love. It was the one thing that was missing from my life. I loved many people and I made it a point to tell them so. There was an equal amount of people who loved me in return.

But. I wasn’t in love.

For love to be reciprocal, I needed to feel it was genuine. I was convinced finding sincerity was impossible. It seemed everyone who had any interest in me was either after notoriety or money. It was the price I had to pay, I suppose, for being successful.

A price I wasn’t always convinced was worth the reward.

84

Ghost

I’d never feared anything in my life, dying included. Yet, I stood in front of the door and dreaded pushing it open. According to the doctor, my means of accepting death was on the other side.

Filled with nervous apprehension, I pushed it open and peered inside.