All in One Place by Carolyne Aarsen Page B

Hasn't mastered the ‘everything hot at the same time’ concept so vital to quality restaurant
     fare.” Helen glanced at the clock. “If you're lucky, you might be able to grab something before the General comes.”
    “The General being?”
    As the words left my mouth, the back door flew open, and in strode a short, stocky woman.
    “Let's get going,” she threw out as she tugged off her coat. Her dark brown hair, liberally streaked with gray, was already
     stuffed into a hairnet. “Lennie, you were supposed to be done with that hours ago,” she called out as she stripped off a shabby
     green coat revealing a full-length apron, striped green-and-yellow stockings, and bright yellow Crocs. “You been fooling with
     that useless computer again?”
    “Behold,” Helen whispered as she eased her way out of the kitchen, leaving me to face down Mathilde's beady eyes alone.
    “Who's that?” she snapped with a sharp jut of her chin in my direction.
    “Terra. I hired her this morning,” Lennie replied.
    Mathilde's eyes became as small as an iguana's. “You lazy, girl?”
    “Not usually.” I couldn't come up with anything snappier, but from the set of her jaw and her pursed lips, I guessed I was
     better off with bland and basic anyway.
    “Lennie tell you that if any of your customers skip, it comes out of your pay?”
    He didn't. Nor would he meet my surprised gaze. I'd worked for a few other restaurants that did this. It was a pain, and it
     wasn't fair.
    But I wasn't in any place to complain.
    “You make sure you try to up-sell whenever you get the chance. No campers except for Father Sam and Cor, and punch your orders
     in right the first time.” Mathilde's eyes swept over me as she delivered that pithy advice before turning her attention to
     the order screen. “Useless computer is more trouble than it's worth. We're already behind, people,” she snapped. “Time is
     money, and the money belongs to me.”
    Lennie flapped his hands at me in a
Get going
gesture. He pointed to Mathilde and made a slicing gesture across his throat.
    I ran into Helen as I left the kitchen, balancing two pie plates in one hand.
    “I thought Lennie owned the place,” I whispered as Helen handed me Father Sam's teapot.
    “He does, but it's Mathilde's cooking that brings the people in. You want to be best friends with Mathilde. Make her mad,
     and your tips will be spare change instead of nice, crisp bills. You'll figure her out. If you stay long enough.”
    Helen's last few words had a faintly ominous tone. Did she mean if I could cut it or if I decided to stick around?
    I'd never worked for a cranky boss longer than I had to. But I needed this job. So I would have to put up with whatever Mathilde
     gave me.
    Cor and Father Sam were locked in a heated debate.
    “Here's your order,” I said when Cor took a breath. “And your tea,” I said to Father Sam, carefully setting the teapot in
     front of him. “Enjoy your pie.”
    Father Sam sighed and picked up his fork. “If I must, I must,” he said quietly.
    “Think of it as penance for some obscure sin you don't even realize you committed,” Cor said, winking at me. “And we're out
     of sugar here, Terra. Can you get me some more?”
    “I'm sorry.” I was about to get a full container from the table beside them when Father Sam touched me lightly on the arm.
    “Terra, my friend Cor shouldn't be having regular sugar. He's diabetic.”
    “Don't listen to him,” Cor said, shoving aside the small ceramic tray full of artificial sweetener packets.
    Father Sam looked at me expectantly. I was caught in the middle. On the one side sat Cor, the customer. On the other side,
     I didn't know if I wanted to fall afoul of a priest. After all, he had connections to realms I respected but didn't know much
     about.
    “I do this out of brotherly love, Cor,” Father Sam said, turning back to his friend. “Not just to raise your blood pressure,
     which, by the way, is probably not good