Authors: Wanda Degolier
After pulling off her shoes and stretching her legs, she dug her Chemistry book out of her bag and began to read.
Helen woke to a knock on the door and daylight streaming in through the front window. Blinking awake, she realized she’d fallen asleep on the couch. When she sat up, her book slid to the floor with a thud. Half asleep, she stumbled to the door and opened it. Sunlight hit her in the eyes.
“Ben?” She squinted.
He held a bag in one hand and a cardboard tray with coffee cups in the other. “Morning.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I hope you don’t mind I brought breakfast.”
“Uh.” Helen yawned.
“I’m sorry. I woke you.”
Helen blinked several times. Had she slept on the couch in her clothes all night?
“Can I come in?” Ben asked.
Too groggy to argue, she stepped aside to let him pass. Ben carried the food to the dining room table. “I brought food for Theo too, is he awake?”
Helen glanced down the hall; Theo’s bedroom door was open. “I assume so.” Ben emptied the bags, while Helen peeked in Theo’s room. The bed was made and the clock read 9:10 a.m. She went to the garage and peeked inside. Theo stood beneath a single light bulb studying a tattered manual.
“You want some breakfast?” Helen asked.
“Not now.”
Helen returned to the living room. “He’s working on his car.”
“Oh.” Ben sipped his coffee then said, “I found an electrician who can start later today. I hired him, I hope you don’t mind.”
“You assumed I’d agree?”
“No. I hoped to overwhelm you with logic and speed.” He grinned just long enough to be charming.
“That’s your plan huh?”
“Yep. Sit down and eat.”
Ben’s close proximity caused inner turmoil, and Helen couldn’t sit still. “I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to repair the house. Whatever money I get from insurance will go to Theo’s college fund. If you want to add to his fund, you’re welcome to, but if he doesn’t use the money for college, you
will
be taking it back.”
Ben’s smile was warm. “Thank you.” He gestured toward the chair requesting, again, that she join him.
Reluctantly, Helen sat next to him. Ben pushed an egg sandwich toward her.
“What do you say we go shopping?” Ben asked.
“For what?”
“A kitchen. You may as well get what you want.”
“I thought you already bought stuff. What’s in the truck?”
“That doesn’t matter. I’d rather have you get what you want.”
Helen shook her head. “Let’s not make a big deal out of this. A simple, utilitarian kitchen is fine.”
One of Ben’s eyebrows cocked, “You want me to design your kitchen?”
“Design? Just put stuff in the same places.”
Ben chuckled while shaking his head, “You are definitely not like most women I know.”
His reaction reminded Helen she wasn’t and would never be in Ben Smiley’s league. She’d been a shy girl full of self-doubt turned struggling single parent. Glamour and home design weren’t in her cards. “Just because I don’t want to spend your money, you don’t need to laugh at me,” she said.
“Helen. You read me the wrong way. You surprise me, that’s all.”
“You’re conceited, Ben. You know that? Everything.
Everything
comes easy to you. You’ve never had to fight for anything in your life.” She pushed up from her chair and paced.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Helen’s face heated. Her outburst had been immature, but it didn’t change the situation. She was still the small girl from the small town, who’d never gone to college, and who worked in the same hot dog stand since high school. No doubt he looked down on her. “That I don’t want to take advantage of your generosity doesn’t mean I’m stupid or unrefined.” Helen glared.
“I agree. It means you have an unusually big heart. I don’t encounter that often in my line of work. You’re refreshing, and I’m not handling your…” he stalled for the word “easy going nature very well. If you don’t want to design your kitchen, no problem. I’ll hire someone.”
“Don’t hire anybody for goodness sakes. I don’t want this to be a big affair.”
“But you’re worth a big affair.”
Surprised by his words, Helen was momentarily speechless. “How nice my kitchen is doesn’t matter. Happiness comes from inside, not this.” She flung her arm in an arc encompassing the house.
“Okay.” Ben nodded. “I understand.”
She held his gaze several seconds, and, for the first time, Helen felt as if he actually saw her.
The door to the garage opened and Theo came down the hall toward them. “Hey Mom. What’s that—” He stopped talking when he saw Ben. “Hi, Ben.”
“Hi, Theo.”
“I didn’t know you were here,” Theo said.
“Ben’s helping to repair the house,” Helen explained.
“Cool. Want some help?”
Ben’s grin was so wide, Helen thought his face would split. “I’d love it.”
****
Two days later Helen lowered herself onto her love seat. The worn cushion gave under her weight. Since the fire, she’d been going nonstop. With Ben working on the house, there was a never-ending chorus of staccato thumps and whirrs, but for the moment, Ben was on a trip to Nalley’s only home improvement store. Helen exhaled loudly then enjoyed the stillness around her.
She had a few hours of free time and a daunting list of errands, one that included picking up Hot Diggitys’ first-ever uniforms, an Agatha recommendation. For the moment however, she was resting. Telltale tremors in her hands signaled her low blood sugar.
She didn’t know whether the problem was her sporadic eating or whether her insulin had gone bad. Either way, she needed to be more careful. Mentally, she added a trip to the pharmacy on her list.
Four hours later Helen parked her ten-year-old Subaru Outback in Nalley’s employee parking lot. She toted a box of T-shirts under one arm then stopped and stared. A line for Hot Diggitys stretched fifty feet down the sidewalk. Apparently, the ad Agatha had placed in the local newspaper was paying off. Helen broke into a trot and entered Hot Diggitys through the back door.
She set down the box of T-shirts and tossed purse in the office. Grabbing several T-shirts, she spun to go to the sink to wash her hands, and nearly collided with Ben. He stood at the beach-ball-sized ketchup decanter holding three open ketchup bottles. Ketchup streamed into the open mouth of one of the bottles.
“What are you doing in here?” Helen demanded.
“Oh.” His eyes darted toward the front. “Theo called and asked for help.”
“Why didn’t he call me?”
Ben slid the next bottle below the spigot. “Maybe he wanted to give you a break?”
Helen didn’t know what to think; where would Ben appear next? Theo called Ben for help?
“If you’re going to be here, I’m putting you on the payroll. Here, put this on.” Helen laid a T-shirt across Ben’s shoulder. She already donned a mustard-yellow, Hot Diggitys shirt of her own.
“You don’t need to pay me.”
“No arguing.” She used her mom voice to end the discussion, washed her hands, and headed up front. She distributed T-shirts to all her employees except Emma, who stood at the register wearing a tight, black blouse that showed off her red bra. Helen touched her shoulder, and Emma turned. She handed her a ketchup-red T-shirt to match her bra. “Put this on.”
Emma held the shirt out and beheld the dancing hot dog on the front. “Ewww.”
“We’re professionals now. Run the front line. I got the register,” Helen said.
Emma looked disgusted but she wriggled the shirt on.
Ben reappeared in his relish-green T-shirt that looked two sizes too small. Stretched across his chest, the dancing hot dog appeared to have gained weight.
“Can you bus the tables?” Helen asked.
“Sure.”
When he turned away, Helen caught herself watching him go. Annoyed, she smiled at the next customer. “Sorry for the delay. What would you like tonight?”
“Two Inferno Franks.”
Helen offered the range of sides. She’d worked through a few customers before realizing the orders weren’t coming out as quickly as she was taking them. She investigated the delay and found Theo hovering over the hot dog maker he’d built. “What’s going on Theo?”
“This damn, I mean darn, cooker keeps seizing up. That’s why we’re behind. I think she’s overheating.”
“Larry!” Helen called. “Start our backup hot dog cooker.”
Larry, who’d been assembling the orders, gave her a thumbs-up then hurried out the back door toward storage.
“I think we need to let her cool down. She’s been running nonstop,” Theo said. “I’ll need to make another one if we stay this busy.”
If anyone could fix the hot dog maker, Theo could. Although her nerves were jumbled, Helen returned to the register and smiled at the next customer in line.
“Busy night,” Seth said from where he sat at the counter near the register. He wore a sleeveless tank top that showed off his physique.
“Yes it is.” Helen said then apologized to the next person in line for the wait.
“Twelve days and you’re mine,” Seth interrupted. He pointed his finger at her as if he were shooting a gun and cocked his thumb.
The stupid bet had not one of her finer moments. “You’ve really gone two-and-a-half months?” She raised her eyebrows and looked at Seth, trying to extract a confession.
“Oh, trust me. I’ve gone seventy-six days.”
Seth looked past her, and his eyes took on a steely glaze. She glanced back to see Ben.
“What do you want me to do now?” Ben asked.
“See if Theo needs help with the hot dog maker?”
After apologizing again to her waiting customers, Helen made sure the other hot dog cooker was plugged in and warming up, then went to her office and grabbed a stash of free hot dog coupons.
Agatha would, no doubt, chastise her for using them. As Helen distributed the coupons, she found the downtime doubly frustrating knowing how much money they were losing.
When ten minutes stretched to twenty, Helen grew anxious. The old hot dog maker handled many fewer hot dogs than Theo’s model. If Theo’s didn’t get the cooker working soon, they’d have to turn customers away.
Theo’s arms were crossed over his chest. He was leaning on the wall, staring blankly at the hot dog maker while Ben held a fan inches from it. Theo’s cooker churned out hot dogs similar to the way a pizza oven churned out pizzas. The hot dogs were fed into holes in one end and when they were finished cooking they came out on a rotating piece on the other end.
“How’s it going?” Helen asked.
Theo shrugged. “She overheated is all I can guess.”
“It’s all those Inferno Franks,” Ben joked.
Neither Helen nor Theo laughed.
Theo leaned in and touched the metal. “I’m going to test it now.” He flipped a switch and the machine rattled, but didn’t start.
“Oh come on,” Theo grumbled.
Helen checked on the other cooker. It wasn’t ready.
“I’m going to get my toolbox out of the car,” Theo muttered as he charged by Helen heading for the back door.
“He’s a smart kid,” Ben said. “He’ll figure it out.”
Helen went back to handing out coupons and apologizing.
Schlepping a stiff, canvas tote, Theo returned. He dropped the bag on the floor and unzipped it. He lifted out a crowbar, and for a terrible second, Helen thought he meant to beat the machine. Instead, he wedged the bar in a gap and pushed down.
“Cooker’s ready.” Larry called out.
Thankful, Helen hurried to the other hot dog maker and loaded it up. She returned to find both Theo and Ben, holding onto the crow bar.
Theo counted. “One, two, three. Push.”
The pair, their biceps bulging, knocked into each other, yet the crowbar didn’t budge.
“I can’t get leverage. Can I try it by myself?” Ben asked.
Theo moved out of his way. Grunting, Ben put his weight into it. A loud ping was followed by Ben falling down. He’d scrambled to his feet.
“Are you okay?” Helen asked.
“Fine. Let’s test it,” Ben said.
Theo stepped next to him and flipped the switch. The cooker vibrated. There was a chunk, and the grill started rotating.
Helen turned to the people waiting, lifted two fists in the air, and shouted, “The cooker is working!”
A cheer came from a handful of customers.
Theo turned to them and bowed. “I’d like to thank all the people who have given me this opportunity.”
A jumble of voices across the boardwalk distracted the customers. People moved from the counter and began gathering into a circle around something else. Being the owner of the closest business, Helen stepped out of Hot Diggitys to take charge. She wedged herself between people, to get nearer to the circle’s center.
“Get back. I can’t breathe.” Came a disembodied voice.
People ebbed back as others moved closer. Helen was squeezed on all sides. “Excuse me. Let me through.”
A gap opened between shifting people, and Helen pushed through popping into the center where a man struggled to sit up. A green Florida Gators baseball cap sat askew on his head while blood trickled in two rivulets down the side of his face.
“Who here has called 9-1-1?” Helen shouted.
“I have,” someone called out.
The man in the Gators cap put one foot on the ground as if he meant to stand. Helen put a hand on his meaty shoulder. “Maybe you shouldn’t move.”
“I’ll be all right,” he drawled.
Blood was beginning to soak his shirt. “You’re bleeding pretty bad.” Helen turned to ask someone to get the first-aid kit from Hot Diggitys when she noticed the large, red bag with the white cross, appearing to float above the sea of onlookers.
“Who in the fuck hit me?” The injured man staggered to his feet. He swayed forward as the crowd, reacting as one, moved out of his way.
“You should sit before you fall,” Helen advised. She wished an ambulance would arrive.
“Fuck this hurts.” He pressed a hand into his head wound as he stumbled to the side. Helen caught his arm, but that did little to steady him. Blood ran between his fingers and arm.
The red-and-white medical bag, carried by Ben, was lowered to her side. “What can I do to help?” Ben asked unzipping the bag.
Helen gave him the hint of a smile. “Thank you.
She retrieved a wide roll of gauze and requested, “Sir, please sit.”
“Fuck off.”
“We need to stop the bleeding.” Helen held up the gauze.
He grabbed the roll from her hand and jammed it into the wound. His eyes widened as if in shock and he stutter stepped backwards. Ben caught him.