Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Love is where you can basically show how you feel like if you like somebody.
From the text correspondence of Mae, Ali, and Ellie:
ALI : Ellie, there’s a rumor.
ELLIE : What now?
ALI : That you have a man living in your house.
ELLIE : I mean, Oliver is only six so I’m not sure I’d say man.
MAE : You’re stalling. Just spill it.
ELLIE : Gil moved into the spare room. It’s not a big deal.
ALI : Are you kidding? This is the biggest deal since the Warrens’ cows got out and managed to make it all the way to town last month.
MAE : How’s it working out?
ELLIE : So far, he hasn’t dismembered me and hidden my body in the freezer.
ALI : That doesn’t seem like his style. Poisoning though? Yeah.
MAE : It is too early in the morning for this.
“You, young lady, have a date.” Ali pointed at me across the counter.
“I do?” I set a plate of the heart-shaped pancakes Jorge always made specially the week of Valentine’s Day in front of her.
“Yes, indeed. This is officially one of your three blind dates so you can’t back out.”
I groaned. “I totally forgot about that. Do I have to go?”
The last date I’d been on had been the day Gil showed up at the front door. Frankly, life had been hectic enough without dealing with my broken man picker.
“You are going. It’s next month so you even have time to get excited about it.” Ali pointed a finger at me. “Give him a chance. He’s my choice, but Mae approved. Fully employed with a very nice benefits package. He has an accent, the cutest dimple, and oh, the dreamiest eyes.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Theo, Ali’s husband, said. “You know that, right?”
Ali’s face split into a grin. “Nobody’s as dreamy as you.”
“That’s better.” Theo winked. Ali leaned in and whispered something in his ear that I couldn’t make out, but I swore I heard something about going on a “treasure hunt” and “x marks the spot.” Whatever that meant made Theo blush.
And then they were kissing. Right there at the counter at the Sit-n-Eat. That was my cue to walk away.
Iris passed behind me. “Ugh, they’re insufferable.”
“I think you mean inseparable,” I said.
“Yeah, that too,” she said over her shoulder. “Love sucks.”
I made a mental note to ask Mae what exactly was going on between Iris and Aidan.
Whatever it was sure wasn’t improving Iris’s attitude.
She’d been a dark cloud the last couple of weeks, more than usual at least, and we’d had three customer complaints (which I filed in the garbage can).
Iris played the tough girl but deep inside, she was all gooey marshmallow.
She’d slice me into a million pieces if she knew I even thought that about her.
A lull between breakfast and lunch hit around ten.
I was working on refilling condiments, a job I detested for its tediousness, and Iris was handling the one table of customers, when Gil walked in.
Instead of acknowledging me, he looked around the place, his gaze stopping briefly on a small grouping of photos that hung to the right of the cash register.
After a moment of hesitation, he walked over and inspected them.
The photos featured the previous owners of the Sit-n-Eat, all from the Holder family.
It had started in the nineteen thirties with Ollie’s grandfather, then it was passed to his son, Ollie’s father, and on to Ollie.
Ollie was the last Holder anyone knew of.
But there stood Ollie’s grandson, staring at those photos with an unholy focus, like he was trying to will the people in those pictures to come to life.
I wondered what he’d ask them if he could.
I suspected there would be yelling and angry words.
But Ollie, what would Ollie say?
I walked to stand beside him and pointed to one of the photos.
“That’s Ollie in his twenties with his dad, Simon, and his mom, Margaret.
” The man next to a young Ollie was about Ollie’s height with a big, wide smile and an arm around the shoulders of a tiny woman with wispy dark hair.
“And that”—I pointed to the next photo—“is Sinclair Holder. He started the Sit-n-Eat back in the day.”
The photo of Sinclair was black and white, but he looked to be in his seventies and a carbon copy of Ollie around the same age. My gaze drifted from the photos to Gil. “You must take after your mom’s side of the family.”
He laughed without humor. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Except the eyebrows. That is unfortunate.” The heat from his glare smacked me in the face; I grinned. “So, what brings you here?”
“I own half of this place. I should do half the work, right?”
I gave his creased khakis and blue button-down a once-over and smirked. “Alright, then. I know you don’t cook.”
“I know how to make oatmeal.”
“Nobody wants that.” I tapped my chin with a finger. “What about taking orders? Ever been on a waitstaff?”
“I’ve never done it before, but I’m sure I can handle it,” he said smugly.
With a snort, I shook my head. Why did people think being a server was easy?
It was not. Not even close. I’d waitressed a lot in LA.
Cheap bars, fancy restaurants, diners, cocktail bars.
It was not easy. “It’s not that simple, you know.
How are your soft skills? Cleaning up spilled milk?
Topping off coffee cups? Do you feel the customer is always right? ”
His eyes drifted to the side, and he shifted on his feet. “I’m not exactly a people person.”
“No biggie.” Iris strolled by with a plate piled high with the hungry man special. “I’m not a people person either.”
We watched as she practically slammed the plate in front of Griffin Jones. “There. Eat, old man.”
Griffin snatched his fork from the table and glared at her. “You’ll not get a tip from me with that attitude.”
Iris rolled her eyes. “Well, since you still tip like it’s nineteen sixty-two, I guess I’ll have to earn those ten cents from someone else.”
“Mouthy brat.”
“Senile goat.”
Suddenly, Griffin grinned and pushed his coffee cup toward the edge of the table. “Top off my coffee for me, would you?”
Iris sighed with feeling. “I guess.” But she winked at him as she strolled away to grab the coffee.
Griffin’s grin widened, showing off the dentures he’d gotten last month. “I do like the feisty ones.”
Gil frowned. “Maybe not customer service.”
“Right. Come on. Let me introduce you to Jorge and then you can learn how to top off the ketchup bottles. It’s fun, I swear.”