was up bright and early on her first day at her new job. Or maybe not bright, since the sun wasn’t fully up yet, but definitely early. With her hair pulled up into a ponytail and her name badge pinned to one of the Trailside Diner T-shirts Paige had given her, she felt as ready as she’d ever be.
She wasn’t too worried about waiting tables. It was all she’d ever done, and at some restaurants a lot busier and more fast-paced than Whitford could offer. She’d memorized the menu, and the boss was her sister-in-law. But a new job was still a new job, and low-level anxiety hummed through her.
An hour later, she’d shadowed Paige as she opened the diner for business and served the first wave of early birds. Carl, the first-shift cook, didn’t say a lot, but Liz could see he put out an amazing-looking breakfast. And, since she wasn’t much for cooking herself, she already knew they tasted as good as they looked.
Once the initial rush petered out, Paige started giving her a more in-depth tour. “I haven’t decided if I want to invest in a computer system or not yet. Maybe next year. For now, it’s old school. Write down the order, stick the sheet up in the pass-through window and then, when they’re done eating, use the calculator to write down the total. Don’t forget the tax.”
Nothing she couldn’t handle. A sheet of paper next to the register with a running tally of slash marks under the days of the week caught her attention. “What’s that for?”
“Those are for Gavin’s specials. He’s saving up to move to the city and get into a culinary school. In the meantime, I let him try out new recipes on the good citizens of Whitford. Since we’re not computerized yet, just put a hash mark down whenever somebody orders one of his specials. I’ve thought about separating it out so non-residents, who seem to be a little more adventurous, are broken out, but this is enough to give us both a general idea of what works and what doesn’t. He’s had a few flops, but overall his recipes are well received.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact Mike Crenshaw’s son is all grown up.”
“And you know Tori is Jilly’s niece, right? Her brother’s daughter. She moved here last year from Portland because her parents’ divorce was not amicable and she was tired of being stuck in the middle.”
Liz didn’t really know Jilly Burns Crenshaw. Mike met her while he was away at college and she couldn’t remember when they’d moved back to Whitford. There was a lot of that throughout the morning. Faces she knew. Some that were vaguely familiar. Many she didn’t know but who knew who she was.
Everybody, of course, had something to say about her driving Chief Miller’s Mustang.
She was tempted to greet every customer with, “Yes, I’m Liz Kowalski and I’ve moved home from New Mexico because I missed my family and I’m driving Chief Miller’s Mustang because I wrecked my car, but I’m okay, and he lent it to me because I’m his best friend’s sister and no other reason.”
But she didn’t think that would go over well. Not with this crowd, anyway. They liked to ferret out information for themselves, with a whole heap of wild assumptions thrown in.
The chief himself showed up after the lunch rush was over, taking a seat at the counter. “Hey, Liz. How’s it going?”
She hadn’t seen him since he’d rejected her pretty overt attempt at flirting three days before, and she was worried things would be weird between them again. But he seemed normal enough, so she tried to relax. “I guess you’d have to ask Paige, but I think it’s going good.”
He ordered a salad topped with grilled chicken and a diet soda. “I went on a cheeseburger binge after my divorce, until I woke up one day and had to suck in my breath to button my uniform pants. Spent the better part of two weeks sitting at my desk because I could unbutton them and nobody was the wiser.”
“I was sorry to hear you
She wasn’t too worried about waiting tables. It was all she’d ever done, and at some restaurants a lot busier and more fast-paced than Whitford could offer. She’d memorized the menu, and the boss was her sister-in-law. But a new job was still a new job, and low-level anxiety hummed through her.
An hour later, she’d shadowed Paige as she opened the diner for business and served the first wave of early birds. Carl, the first-shift cook, didn’t say a lot, but Liz could see he put out an amazing-looking breakfast. And, since she wasn’t much for cooking herself, she already knew they tasted as good as they looked.
Once the initial rush petered out, Paige started giving her a more in-depth tour. “I haven’t decided if I want to invest in a computer system or not yet. Maybe next year. For now, it’s old school. Write down the order, stick the sheet up in the pass-through window and then, when they’re done eating, use the calculator to write down the total. Don’t forget the tax.”
Nothing she couldn’t handle. A sheet of paper next to the register with a running tally of slash marks under the days of the week caught her attention. “What’s that for?”
“Those are for Gavin’s specials. He’s saving up to move to the city and get into a culinary school. In the meantime, I let him try out new recipes on the good citizens of Whitford. Since we’re not computerized yet, just put a hash mark down whenever somebody orders one of his specials. I’ve thought about separating it out so non-residents, who seem to be a little more adventurous, are broken out, but this is enough to give us both a general idea of what works and what doesn’t. He’s had a few flops, but overall his recipes are well received.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact Mike Crenshaw’s son is all grown up.”
“And you know Tori is Jilly’s niece, right? Her brother’s daughter. She moved here last year from Portland because her parents’ divorce was not amicable and she was tired of being stuck in the middle.”
Liz didn’t really know Jilly Burns Crenshaw. Mike met her while he was away at college and she couldn’t remember when they’d moved back to Whitford. There was a lot of that throughout the morning. Faces she knew. Some that were vaguely familiar. Many she didn’t know but who knew who she was.
Everybody, of course, had something to say about her driving Chief Miller’s Mustang.
She was tempted to greet every customer with, “Yes, I’m Liz Kowalski and I’ve moved home from New Mexico because I missed my family and I’m driving Chief Miller’s Mustang because I wrecked my car, but I’m okay, and he lent it to me because I’m his best friend’s sister and no other reason.”
But she didn’t think that would go over well. Not with this crowd, anyway. They liked to ferret out information for themselves, with a whole heap of wild assumptions thrown in.
The chief himself showed up after the lunch rush was over, taking a seat at the counter. “Hey, Liz. How’s it going?”
She hadn’t seen him since he’d rejected her pretty overt attempt at flirting three days before, and she was worried things would be weird between them again. But he seemed normal enough, so she tried to relax. “I guess you’d have to ask Paige, but I think it’s going good.”
He ordered a salad topped with grilled chicken and a diet soda. “I went on a cheeseburger binge after my divorce, until I woke up one day and had to suck in my breath to button my uniform pants. Spent the better part of two weeks sitting at my desk because I could unbutton them and nobody was the wiser.”
“I was sorry to hear you
Similar Books
