Chapter Sixteen
Ready?”
She started the car. The plasticky-new smell and spotless interior were a stark change from the Woods, which began to grow smaller in my side mirror as we pulled away.
Just as we stopped at the mailbox, I saw a Tides van pull up to the front of the Egg.
By the time we’d crossed the road and pulled into a space, at least ten people had disembarked. Cardoon, again in uniform, stood by the door, motioning them inside.
“It’s crowded,” my mom observed. “Should we go somewhere else?”
Before I could answer, Lana appeared on the sidewalk with an armful of menus. “How many?”
“Twenty total,” Cardoon told her. “Four parties. One’s a six-top, FYI.”
She handed him the menus. “You know what to do.”
He gave her a jaunty salute just as two cars pulled in. At this rate, Lana’s prediction would be proven out: It was already busier than the last time.
“I’ll go order,” I told my mom.
“Are you sure?” she asked, eyeing the growing line. “We really don’t have—”
I was out of the car before she could finish, turning sideways at the door to squeeze past Cardoon and two women in tennis whites who were fanning themselves with menus.
“Will it be much longer?” one asked him. “We have a court reserved in a half hour.”
“The line is moving quickly,” he replied smoothly. “Can I interest you in some coffee?”
Inside, it was packed, and loud, every seat at the counter taken. The tables not seated were piled with dirty dishes and trash.
“Phone!” Clark was bellowing through the kitchen window at Lana as she moved plates onto a tray, one after another.
“They can hold on,” she replied. She turned, studiously ignoring two different people trying to get her attention. “Everyone can just hold on.”
I walked over to the coffeemaker, grabbing one of the full pots there.
In the kitchen, Ben was laying out strips of bacon on the flattop (today’s shirt: POPLAR GROVE GENERALS, STATE CHAMPS 2016) while several eggs sizzled nearby.
Meanwhile, Clark dropped a row of plates—clack clack clack!
—under the tickets crowding the window. I’d just lend a hand until our food was ready, I told myself.
But things kept happening. Someone’s loose toddler got tangled in Lana’s legs as she was carrying food to a seven-top, resulting in a deafening crash.
The next Tides bus pulled up. And Ben knocked a gallon of milk to the floor in the kitchen, which led to him and Clark both skidding around as if they were on ice.
“Finley?”
I jumped. It was my mom. How much time had passed? Our order sat in the window, the bag stained with grease. Whoops.
“Sorry,” I told her. “I just… they needed help.”
“We were drowning,” Lana emphasized, passing behind me with the bus pan.
“Thirty percent,” Kasey reminded her as she stuck a pair of tickets. She looked at my mom. “You guys taking off, then?”
“We’re actually running late.” My mom tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Drive safe,” Kasey called as she pushed out the door. Then she looked at me. “Hey. Thanks again for pitching in. You’re a natural.”
I smiled, flattered. Especially considering my learning curve that first day. “Thanks.”
Outside, my mom was already in the car with the engine running. “All we can do is hope there’s not a lot of traffic,” she said as I buckled up. “Even if there isn’t, it will be tight to drop you and make my appointment.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
We were backing out when Liz’s minivan suddenly jerked into the spot beside us. She hopped out, in capris and a pink top patterned with flamingos, looking harried. Her phone was at one ear, and she motioned for me to roll down my window.
“Is Anne here?”
“I haven’t seen her,” I replied.
“We have to go,” my mom told her, leaning across me. “We’re already late.”
“Would you believe Kathy and the bridesmaids from Jonathan’s side just vetoed the dresses?” Liz asked me, ignoring this. She switched her phone to the other ear. “It’s insanity, as well as rude as—honey! Where are you?”
My mom kept reversing, even as I heard Anne’s voice, distant, twisted with panic. Then Clark came out the front door of the Egg.
“The damn box truck is stuck,” he reported, peering across at the driveway. “Says they need a tow.”
I looked at the console clock. 7:58. Lana had been pretty close. Liz, still on the phone, said, “Well, they’re just a bunch of stuck-up snobs, then. You can wear any dress you want.”
“Wait,” I said. “They don’t like her dress either?”
Liz fluttered a hand at me: Don’t ask. Meanwhile, in the small space of the car, I could feel my mom’s impatience. “Finley,” she said. “We need to go.”
Kasey came out and huddled with Clark by the door, her own phone in hand. Meanwhile, Liz was still talking to Anne. I put my finger on the window button and it began to rise, shutting them off from me, bit by bit.
I thought of what I’d said to Ben the night before about how I wasn’t even sure what I wanted.
Still true. What was clear, however, was the thing I didn’t want, which was to again let someone else decide my next move for me.
So what if it was a wobbly step, fully ungraceful? It was mine. I decided to take it.