slipping my backpack onto my lap.
Lennie sniffed again, scrubbing at his face with the palms of his hands before leaning back in his chair. “Tell me about your
other jobs.”
“I've worked in a couple of hotels, a few lounges, some restaurants. I've done office work for a lawyer and worked as a bank
teller.”
Lennie nodded and scratched his chin with one finger. “What's your name?”
I told him.
“You live around here?”
“I'm new to town.”
“Helen, the other waitress here, might be looking for a roomie. Her friend moved out. Got married.” Lennie sniffed and scratched
again. “When can you start?”
“As soon as you need me.”
“I needed you yesterday.”
“So you don't need any references?”
“You ever been in trouble with the law?”
The question sent my heart diving into my stomach. Did my short time in the Harland County Jail across the street count?
And how small was this small town? Would he find out anyway?
“It's okay. If you don't work out, you'll hit the road, curly.” Lennie yawned and pushed himself out of the chair. “I gotta
get ready for the dinner rush. You got a clean white shirt in there?” He pointed at my knapsack.
I couldn't help but glance at his apron. He caught the direction of my gaze and rubbed his hands over the grease spots that
liberally dotted the slightly gray apron. “This doesn't ever leave the back. But you, you need to look your best. So, is it
clean?”
“Yes.”
“You can change in the ladies' can. Helen will bring you up to speed.”
I tried not to let my mouth flop open. I'd worked for some pretty desperate bosses, but I'd never been hired on the spot before.
“Great. Thanks,” I said as I got up.
“Welcome to the Harland Café,” Lennie said, giving my hand a quick shake. “See how you make out today, and we'll talk wages
tomorrow.”
I knew it wouldn't be a princely sum, but if today was any indication of how busy it would be, the tips should more than balance
out the minimum wage I would probably be getting.
Lennie brushed past me, and I stood there a moment, letting it sink in.
I just got a job.
All I had to do now was prove myself before wind of my recent trouble with the law got out.
Five minutes later I was busing tables that looked as if multiple parties had sat at them back-to-back. I tried to ignore
the rumbling of my stomach as I piled one plate with a half-eaten piece of pie on top of another plate full of fries smothered
in ketchup and dumped them both into the plastic container.
“Nothing like jumping in with both feet,” Helen said as she walked toward me, a coffeepot in one hand and two plates of food
balanced precariously in the other. “May as well start you off easy. You can take table eight. The two older men. Cor DeWindt
will have coffee, Father Sam will have tea, and pie for both. Tell Father Sam there's no more banana cream, but we've got
lemon so Cor will be happy.”
I glanced over my shoulder, trying to figure out where table eight was, then saw two older men sitting by the window.
I wiped my hands on an apron that was now as grubby as Lennie's and snagged a half-full pot of coffee.
“Good afternoon,” I said as I came near the table. “My name is Terra, and I'm your server.”
The heavyset man had thinning hair. A pair of bright yellow suspenders lay against an orange plaid shirt that strained over
his generous stomach. When he frowned, his eyebrows obscured his eyes. “Where's Helen?” His rough voice held the hint of an
accent I couldn't place.
“I just started here, so for now, I'll be serving you.”
“Looks like you have someone new to practice your flirting skills on, Cor,” the other man said with a laugh.
Cor. That meant this man, the one with the laughing eyes and dark hair sprinkled with gray, was Father Sam. He wore blue jeans
with sandals, and a ratty-looking T-shirt covered by a canvas jacket.
He looked nothing like any priest I'd ever
Lennie sniffed again, scrubbing at his face with the palms of his hands before leaning back in his chair. “Tell me about your
other jobs.”
“I've worked in a couple of hotels, a few lounges, some restaurants. I've done office work for a lawyer and worked as a bank
teller.”
Lennie nodded and scratched his chin with one finger. “What's your name?”
I told him.
“You live around here?”
“I'm new to town.”
“Helen, the other waitress here, might be looking for a roomie. Her friend moved out. Got married.” Lennie sniffed and scratched
again. “When can you start?”
“As soon as you need me.”
“I needed you yesterday.”
“So you don't need any references?”
“You ever been in trouble with the law?”
The question sent my heart diving into my stomach. Did my short time in the Harland County Jail across the street count?
And how small was this small town? Would he find out anyway?
“It's okay. If you don't work out, you'll hit the road, curly.” Lennie yawned and pushed himself out of the chair. “I gotta
get ready for the dinner rush. You got a clean white shirt in there?” He pointed at my knapsack.
I couldn't help but glance at his apron. He caught the direction of my gaze and rubbed his hands over the grease spots that
liberally dotted the slightly gray apron. “This doesn't ever leave the back. But you, you need to look your best. So, is it
clean?”
“Yes.”
“You can change in the ladies' can. Helen will bring you up to speed.”
I tried not to let my mouth flop open. I'd worked for some pretty desperate bosses, but I'd never been hired on the spot before.
“Great. Thanks,” I said as I got up.
“Welcome to the Harland Café,” Lennie said, giving my hand a quick shake. “See how you make out today, and we'll talk wages
tomorrow.”
I knew it wouldn't be a princely sum, but if today was any indication of how busy it would be, the tips should more than balance
out the minimum wage I would probably be getting.
Lennie brushed past me, and I stood there a moment, letting it sink in.
I just got a job.
All I had to do now was prove myself before wind of my recent trouble with the law got out.
Five minutes later I was busing tables that looked as if multiple parties had sat at them back-to-back. I tried to ignore
the rumbling of my stomach as I piled one plate with a half-eaten piece of pie on top of another plate full of fries smothered
in ketchup and dumped them both into the plastic container.
“Nothing like jumping in with both feet,” Helen said as she walked toward me, a coffeepot in one hand and two plates of food
balanced precariously in the other. “May as well start you off easy. You can take table eight. The two older men. Cor DeWindt
will have coffee, Father Sam will have tea, and pie for both. Tell Father Sam there's no more banana cream, but we've got
lemon so Cor will be happy.”
I glanced over my shoulder, trying to figure out where table eight was, then saw two older men sitting by the window.
I wiped my hands on an apron that was now as grubby as Lennie's and snagged a half-full pot of coffee.
“Good afternoon,” I said as I came near the table. “My name is Terra, and I'm your server.”
The heavyset man had thinning hair. A pair of bright yellow suspenders lay against an orange plaid shirt that strained over
his generous stomach. When he frowned, his eyebrows obscured his eyes. “Where's Helen?” His rough voice held the hint of an
accent I couldn't place.
“I just started here, so for now, I'll be serving you.”
“Looks like you have someone new to practice your flirting skills on, Cor,” the other man said with a laugh.
Cor. That meant this man, the one with the laughing eyes and dark hair sprinkled with gray, was Father Sam. He wore blue jeans
with sandals, and a ratty-looking T-shirt covered by a canvas jacket.
He looked nothing like any priest I'd ever
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