12. twelve
twelve
Nora
“You’ve got a sunny glow about you today, Miss Nora. And you’re not wearing a black polo, for once,” Roman says to me with a cheeky grin as he enters the diner, sweeping past the host stand. “Would there be any particular reason for that?”
He continues past without waiting for my answer. I’m busy drawing the sections on our dry-erase chart of the diner floor plan. Each table, booth, and bar stool is numbered for reference and easy assigning. I quickly smudge out Roman’s name from his favorite section (which includes most of the booths) and give him the old-fashioned bar instead. He hates the bar. Especially at breakfast.
“Hi Nora,” Audrey says, all smiles. She props her chin up on her elbow and leans right over my chart, forcing me to meet her eyes. “You’re looking lovely today.”
“So are you. Wait, why are you saying that? Is there something on my face? Please tell me I don’t have a pair of Ollie’s socks stuck to my butt.” I arch my neck, trying to see if I’ve split my pants, and nobody’s bothered to tell me.
“All clear,” Audrey says.
“Why are you all suddenly being so nice to me?”
“Word on the street is…” Roman suddenly appears at my side, the sound of his voice making me jump. “Somebody had the time of her life at the Harvest Market last night.”
My heart jumps into my throat. Do I look guilty? I probably look guilty, though I have no reason to be.
“Somebody was also up late last night cleaning up after said market and needs her servers to get cracking before the breakfast rush begins,” I say, snapping the cap of the dry-erase marker back into place and tapping the chart. “Sections are done.”
“The bar, Nora? No ma’am. Not today.” Roman sidles up alongside me as I move towards the kitchen. “Give me the booths back. Please?”
“Kate asked for the booths today,” I lie.
“Well, surprise, surprise, Kate is late. So, the early bird gets the worm. I would have thought you’d be in more of a generous mood after last night.”
I stop walking, eyeing him narrowly. “What are you talking about, Roman?”
“You know,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Your date.”
“My…date.”
“With you-know-who,” Audrey adds, hands on her hips.
“I don’t know what the two of you are going on about,” I lie, but my heart is fluttering, and I suddenly need distance from these two nosy friends of mine.
They know.
“Were either of you at the market?” I ask, dreading their answer.
“Of course we were, love,” Roman says. “We were shopping and eating our hearts out all night.”
“We came by your booth, but you were gone. Busy canoodling with your baseball beau. But Kate was over buying kettle corn at the food truck, and she said she saw you holding hands,” Audrey says.
“We were not holding hands!”
“Yes, you were!” I whirl towards the diner doors to find that Kate has finally decided to make her entrance and somehow knew precisely what we were talking about.
“There was a child between us!”
“Nora!” she practically screams. “Nora, I saw you last night with Brooks, and oh-my-gosh-you-are-the-cutest-couple-ever!” I’m engulfed in a hug. I sigh, hugging her back and feeling entirely trapped. There’s no escaping it now.
“You guys,” I say, looking between these friends of mine who feel like family. “I hate to disappoint you, but it wasn’t a date. We happened to run into each other, and–-”
“Sparks flew, you fell back in love, yada-yada,” Roman says, waving a hand through the air. “We know. We saw the picture.”
“What picture?” I gasp.
Kate pulls out her phone and shows me her screen. It’s a grainy, zoomed-in picture of me and Brooks, right at the moment when he’d placed his hat on my head. I’m looking up at him with wide, awestruck eyes, and he’s wearing a little, affectionate half-smirk that makes my heart take a tumble.
“Did you take this picture?” I ask Kate, trying to keep my voice even.
“That depends,” she says slowly.
“Can you send it to me?” I ask. I need a copy of it in my possession so I can stare at it and fantasize about Brooks giving me his hat on loop.
“You’re not mad?”
I shake my head. More like twitterpated.
“Okay, then yes . I took the picture!” she squeals gleefully, texting me the photo. “You two are the most beautiful couple I have ever seen.”
I’m grateful my friends desperately want me to find love again, especially after what I’ve been through. I know they mean well. They just want to see me happy. But my rational side feels like I’m putting the cart before the horse.
Shockingly, Roman doesn’t fight me on the section assignments after doting over the photo again. I think it's because he could tell that Molly, being the diehard Brooks Alden fan that she is, was not happy about the news that Brooks had been seen with me again. She glares openly at me every time I walk past the host stand. I’m tempted to wave the photo in her face to set things straight once and for all, but Roman does the dirty work for me.
“You’re too young for him, sweetie,” Roman finally says to her. “Get over it.”
The diner only serves breakfast and lunch, so I usually get off around four o’clock. As we’re nearing closing time, the dishwashers start blasting music as motivation to get their work done. Audrey notices me sweeping the floor alone and grabs an extra broom, and before I know it, we’re dancing with broom partners and scattering crumbs instead of brushing them into a pile.
It’s moments like this that make me wonder if I could ever leave this place. I see these people every day. They’re my family. I love being a part of something so integral to our community.
But on my drive home, I remember how it felt last night to clean off the near-empty shelves after the market was over. To know that my ceramic pieces have now been sprinkled into the homes and businesses of Kitt’s Harbor. There’s a deeper satisfaction rising within me that I’ve never been able to reach as the manager of Delia’s Diner.
There’s no doubt that I still need this job. I’d tallied up my earnings last night and quickly realized that I would have to scale my business considerably if I wanted it to be something sustainable. It would take a lot more hours at the wheel and many more markets for me to turn my hobby into a way to support my family.
Now’s not the right time for me to say goodbye to the diner, but maybe someday that time will come, and I will be ready. In the meantime, Sydney and I have been working hard to prepare for the workshop she’s hosting for me next Saturday at Wildwood. Nerves bubble through me every time I think about it. But at the same time, I can’t wait to share something I’m passionate about with a small group of friends in such a magical place.