Brady watched her dash out to her car from his window. He stared at the empty street for a long time. He’d been alone before. He’d been alone and he hadn’t minded. He’d liked it. But he didn’t like it now. He hated it. His house was not a home, it was a big, empty barn. The room where she’d slept still smelled of her perfume. The disappointment he’d felt when he woke up and found her gone still rankled.
The office was eerily quiet. He wanted to hear Suzy’s voice in the next room, wanted to see her sashay into
his office with a sheaf of papers to sign. He wanted her to perch on the corner of his desk, her skirt riding up over her knees, and tell him what had happened while he was out. He wanted to see her eyes flash when she got mad. That’s why he’d accused her of running off with the office supplies. Just to get her riled. He wanted something to happen. A break-in, a dispute over water rights, anything. But nothing did.
Finally he went to his desk, reached into his top drawer and took out the picture of Suzy and Travis behind an enormous cake with one candle on top. Travis was leaning forward, his cheeks pink with excitement. Suzy was smiling at the camera, looking like she might burst with pride. It was all he had left of her, and he wasn’t giving it back. She could get another one made. She had the negative. He had nothing.
Suzy changed into a green uniform in the ladies’ room behind the kitchen, hoping Will, the owner of the diner, hadn’t seen her come in a half hour late. But he had.
“We’re really busy on Monday mornings,” Will told her. “I thought I told you to come in early. Now there’s no time to teach you the ropes. But you’ll catch on. Here’s your apron, pencil and pad. Those are your tables. Good luck.”
Good luck? She’d need more than luck. The place was packed. Farmers and ranchers sat on the stools at the counter, and the booths were crowded with more ranchers and farmers and an occasional wife or girlfriend. Suzy stood in the
corner,
her pencil behind her ear, and her eyes glazed over. Her mouth was so dry her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her feet were made of clay. The cacophony of voices sent the noise
level way over acceptable standards, the jukebox was blaring, and her stomach was growling. What had she done? Why had she given up a respectable job in an office for this?
She finally forced herself to plant one foot in front of the other and walk to a table. As she took orders, she wondered when she’d have a chance to eat. The nonstop plates of waffles, pancakes, grits and hush puppies reminded her of Brady. She wondered what he was doing. She wondered if there’d been any crimes, if he’d arrested anyone. And while she was wondering, she delivered the wrong order to the wrong table.
“I didn’t order eggs.” The customer in the dusty
Stetson frowned and handed his plate back to Suzy. She would have taken it if her hands hadn’t been full of other plates.
“I’m sorry.” She looked down at her notepad in the pocket of her apron, but couldn’t read what she’d written, not at that angle. A man at the next table called to her.
“Those mine?”
“Three eggs over easy with a side of hash browns?”
He shook his head. “Scrambled with biscuits.”
She finally figured it out, but by the time she did, some of the food was cold and she had to take it back. The cook glared at her, pointed to the microwave oven where she overheated the biscuits and turned them into cardboard. The next time she came back the cook yelled at her for taking so long to pick up her orders.
She dropped a glass of orange juice on the floor, and before the janitor could mop it up, the bus boy slipped and skidded across the floor. She saw Will roll his eyes and say something to Rosalie, the cashier, but he didn’t say anything to her. Not yet. And so went the morning.
By eleven o’clock the crowd had thinned out. Will said something about the lull before the lunch storm and told her to take a break She knew she should eat something, but her stomach was churning with anxiety. And after looking at all that food, she wasn’t sure any of it appealed to her. When Tally came in with a big, encouraging smile on her face, Suzy poured herself a Coke from the fountain and joined her friend in a booth.
“Tired?” Tally asked, drawing her eyebrows together in concern and giving her friend a worried look.
“Tired? I’m so far beyond tired I can’t tell you. And it’s not even lunchtime. What have I done? I don’t know how to be a waitress.”
“Of course not, it’s your first day. But you’ll learn.”
“I wonder,” she said despondently, propping her chin in her hand.
“Anyway, it’s temporary, remember? Just till you find Mr. Right.”
“Honestly, Tally, if he came in today, I wouldn’t recognize him, and if I did, I wouldn’t have time to talk to him. And I’d probably give him the wrong order. Or spill coffee down his back at the very least.”
“Suzy, this isn’t like you. Where’s the upbeat, fun-loving, cheerful—”
“Stop, Tally. You’re making me sound like Pollyanna.” She glanced up. Her heart lurched. “Oh, no, here comes Brady.” She grabbed the menu and held it in front of her face.
Tally turned her head toward the door. “I think I’d better go.”
Suzy grabbed Tally’s arm. “No. You can’t. I don’t want to talk to him.”
“I don’t know how you can avoid it. He’s heading this way.”
“Don’t leave me alone with him. We had a run-in this morning in his office.”
“Really, Suzy, I have to leave, Jed’s waiting for me at the feed and fuel. Good luck.” Tally got up and headed for the door while Suzy dropped the menu and pressed her palms against her temples and prayed that Brady wanted to avoid her as much as she wanted to avoid him. But her prayers were not answered. Seconds later he’d taken Tally’s place across the table from her.
“How’s it going?” he asked, as if he hadn’t accused her of petty thievery only a few hours ago. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“I’m on my break and it’s going fine,” she said briskly.
“I wish I could say the same.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Oh, nothing. Just a fight in the bar.”
“At ten in the morning?”
“At 8:30 in the morning. One man’s in the hospital, the other in jail.”
“Jail? We haven’t had anybody in jail for months.”
“Damned nuisance. I came over to line up some food for him. Guess I’d better talk to Will about it.”
“And I’d better get back to work. It was nice seeing you, Brady.”
“Wait a minute. While I’m here, I’ll have the usual.”
“I’m still on my break.”
“I’ll wait.”
“This isn’t my table.”
“Then I’ll move.”
“No. I...I’m new and I...I make mistakes. You might not get what you want.”
“I’m used to that,” he said dryly. “Where are your tables?”
She sighed and slid out of the booth. Then pointed across the room. “Over there.”
If she was nervous before he came in, she was completely unstrung trying to remember orders with Brady’s dark gaze fastened on her like epoxy cement. Wherever she went, behind the counter or to the coffee machine, whatever she did, scribbling orders or pouring orange juice, she felt his eyes boring holes in her. Causing her heart rate to accelerate, and her legs to turn to Jell-O.
Just what a new waitress needed, to have her old boss visit her on her first day. To see her faculties diminished minute by minute. As if she had any to spare. She didn’t understand why no one came in to sit down with him. To distract him with idle chatter. But no one did. After a brief conversation with Will, Brady sat there with his eyes at half-mast, watching her from over his coffee cup.
After waiting on everyone else in her section, Suzy finally wiped her damp palms on her apron and marched briskly to his table. “What’ll it be, sheriff,” she asked in her best waitress voice. “The usual?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s time for a change. Everyone else around here is making changes in their lives, maybe I should too. So bring me something different.”
She took her pencil from behind her ear and pulled her order pad from the pocket of her apron. “What?” she asked.
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze roaming lazily over her uniform and apron down her opaque support hose to her sensible waitress shoes. “I don’t know. Surprise me.”
She frowned. “We don’t do surprises,” she said, tapping her pencil.
“Why not?”
“Look, Brady,” she said with a nervous glance over her shoulder, “I have three other tables to wait on. What if I had to surprise everybody? That’s not my job. My job is to take orders. Now what’s yours?”
He grabbed her hand. “Come back to work for me.”
She pulled her hand away. “That’s not what I meant.”
He scowled. “All right, bring me the usual.”
Automatically she wrote eggs over easy, hash browns and whole wheat toast. When she went to the kitchen to post the order, Will told her not to spend so much time with one customer.
She felt the heat rise up her neck and flood her face. As if she
wanted
to spend time arguing with Brady.
“I thought the customer was always right,” she said, blowing a wisp of hair off her forehead.
“They are,” Will said, “but you’ve got fifteen customers. I realize you and the sheriff are old friends, but...”
“Old friends? Hardly,” she sputtered. “I used to work for him, that’s all.”
“Well, try to keep your social life separate from your work life.”
“My social life?” As if she had one.
“Yes. Confine your conversations to the menu and the weather.”
“I’d be glad to. Maybe you should put up a sign so the customers know the rules, too.” So they wouldn’t ask the waitress to “surprise them.”
“You know, Suzy,” Will said with a long-suffering sigh, “I never understood why you’d leave your job to come and work here. If for any reason you think you’re not suited to waitress work...”
Suzy bit her lip. He wouldn’t fire her, would he? Not
before she’d met one single eligible man? “There’s no reason,” she assured him. “No reason at all. But it’s my first day. I’m still learning.” As she spoke, the cook shoved a Western omelet with a side order of pancakes across the warming shelf. With a surge of relief, Suzy grabbed it and hastily headed for the dining room.
If only she knew who’d ordered it. It took her many embarrassing minutes to find out.
It was with an overwhelming rush of relief she watched Brady finish his breakfast, pay the cashier and walk out of the diner. The feeling was marred only by the fact that the lunch crowd was streaming in and the discovery that Brady had left her a five-dollar tip. She seethed with anger. If she’d noticed, if she hadn’t been re-adding up a bill she’d miscalculated, she would have thrown it in his face. The nerve of him treating her like a...a...a waitress.
She’d no more stuffed the money into her pocket when Will asked her if she’d take the prisoner’s lunch to him.
“But what about my tables?” she protested. As much as she dreaded taking lunch orders, she dreaded seeing Brady even more.
“I’ve assigned Celia to your tables. Just until you get back. It shouldn’t take you longer than twenty minutes. Just leave the tray with Brady. I don’t want my waitresses serving inmates.” He handed her a tray covered with plastic wrap and held the front door open for her.
She set the tray on the passenger seat and drove the three blocks to Brady’s office. He met her at the door.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.
“I’m here because I was sent, and you know it. When I worked here you’d send me over to get the food. I
don’t know why you couldn’t...oh, never mind.” She held the tray out, but he kept his arms at his sides.
“I couldn’t because I’m alone here, and I have no one to send.”
“That’s your fault. All you have to do is hire someone.”
“Easy for you to say. I have no time to interview anyone. I spend all my time looking for things only you know where to find. How’s it going to help me to hire someone? That’ll make two of us looking for something we can’t find.”
She set the tray on his desk. “If you hire somebody I’ll come back and train her. Show her where everything is.”
“You will? I might just take you up on that.”
“Yes, now what is it you can’t find?”
He threw his hands in the air. “Fax paper, the phone number for the DA’s office, the prisoner’s blanket, the—”
“The fax paper is on the top shelf in the supply cabinet. I don’t have time to look for the phone number now, but maybe later.”
“Will you be back with the dinner?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I hope not. I’m not working dinner. I’m off at five today. If I have time, I’ll drop by for a minute. Make a list of stuff you can’t find.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Suzy.” He took her hands in his and gave her a look that melted her heart the way the sun melted the snows of the Sierra Nevada. She felt herself pulled in two directions. She almost told him she’d made a terrible mistake in quitting, but she couldn’t. The worst mistake she could make was to give up her new job before she’d hardly started.