Chapter 15
BETH
The bell on the diner door jingled, but rather than finding myself looking up at the fresh face of a customer, I was greeted with the largest bouquet I had ever seen.
I paused in wiping the table down, my brow furrowed in confusion as the delivery man, who seemed far too out of place in his uniform carrying that arrangement, set it down on the counter with a grunt.
“Delivery for Beth Parker?” he said, his tone polite, as though he did this every day.
“That’s me,” I replied, still trying to wrap my head around the absurdity of the situation.
There was no reason for this. No occasion called for flowers of this magnitude in my life.
My gaze swept the bouquet, noticing the lush red roses, the white orchids, and the deep, lush greenery that had to have cost more than a week’s take at the diner.
The delivery man handed me a small envelope tied to the stems. “There’s a note inside, ma’am,” he said with a small smile before leaving me alone with the monstrosity that now sat on the counter.
My fingers hesitated, the white card cold in my palm.
The last time I’d gotten flowers like this from him had been right after he’d proposed.
The memory stung more than I thought it would.
I opened it, knowing exactly whose name I would see inside.
I didn’t bother to read what he’d written.
What did I expect? Words of affection or another offer of money that I didn’t want or need?
Instead of taking the flowers upstairs or even pretending I appreciated the gesture, I cut the stems, separating the bouquet, and gave pieces away to the few elderly women who were lingering around the diner.
They lit up, delighted by the gesture, though I felt nothing but a coldness in my chest. I couldn’t accept any of it, not anymore.
It had been days, and my ex had been silent since his courier appeared at the door.
The silence was louder than his messages and I couldn’t be happier for it.
I didn’t know what his new ploy was with the flowers, but I wasn’t about to be impressed by something as hollow as that.
As the afternoon wore on, another delivery came, this one far less extravagant but just as unnecessary.
Gourmet chocolates in an elaborate box sat next to the till for half the afternoon before I opened it and placed a few on a plate for the regulars to enjoy with their coffee.
It felt wrong, throwing them away, but they weren’t mine.
None of this was mine. Lisa gave me a glance from across the room but didn’t comment.
I knew she was just biding her time, waiting for me to explode or fall apart.
I didn’t know if it would come, but if it did, I was holding it off as long as possible.
Later, just as I was finishing up cleaning the kitchen, a third package arrived.
This one was more practical, if even more insulting.
Inside the box was a new tablet, top-of-the-line, along with a note from Chris saying how he knew how much I had missed mine back home.
It was like he didn’t realize how far past missing material things I was.
The diner didn’t run on tech; it ran on grease, sweat, and good old-fashioned hard work.
The tablet sat on the counter for a while before I stowed it away in the back office, out of sight.
Lisa’s raised eyebrow said enough as I returned to wiping down the counters.
“Something’s gonna give, Beth,” she finally said, her voice soft but firm as she watched me move about the kitchen, pretending I wasn’t fuming under the surface. “You can’t keep pretending none of this affects you.”
“It’s just his way of keeping his guilt at bay. He’s not used to being told no.”
She sighed, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned against the doorway. “Guilt or not, he’s not gonna stop. You know him better than I do.”
“Maybe,” I muttered, tossing the rag into the sink with more force than necessary. “But I’m done with this back-and-forth. He doesn’t get to win by buying me out. It’s not gonna work.”
But Lisa was right, I could feel the tension growing inside me like a storm, ready to break at any moment.
I wasn’t angry just because of the gifts.
It was the constant reminder of the man I’d married, and the one who had walked away from, now trying to buy my forgiveness.
That’s what stung the most. I felt small again, like I had in the early days of our marriage when he’d first moved me to Seattle and started showering me with gifts I hadn’t asked for.
Except now, I didn’t even want the life that came with them.
“It shouldn’t,” Lisa said as she leaned over a notebook. She looked as harried as I looked. “It’s not fair of him to think you’d fall back into line just because he’s got money.”
“No, it’s not fair.” I swallowed hard, trying to keep the bitterness from my voice. “And it’s not going to work.” But I paused, seeing my sister in significant stress. “Hey, sis, what’s wrong?”
She sighed, slamming her hands down on the book, causing the papers to crumple on the counter.
“We got new orders in yesterday, and they raised prices on the basics again, things like flour and milk that people around here can barely afford to put food on the table for their families with. It’s ridiculous! ”
I moved around to the other side of the counter, resting my hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Lisa.”
She looked like she didn’t believe it, her eyes clouded with the same weary frustration I felt weighing down my own shoulders.
And who could blame her? The numbers on the ledger were merciless, red ink creeping into the margins like a slow-spreading stain.
I certainly didn’t think so myself, not when I could see the way her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the countertop.
We were in the middle of a fight that we weren’t equipped to win, battling against forces larger than ourselves, against corporations that saw struggling small towns as nothing more than entries on a profit sheet.
But she needed me to be there for her, to offer some sliver of strength even when I felt none myself.
I tried to think of a way to give her a small glimmer of hope, something real that wouldn’t crumble under the weight of tomorrow’s rising costs.
“I’ve done the math so many times. It just doesn’t ever get any easier.
The suppliers charge more. I have to raise prices just to keep the lights on, but the people in this town can barely afford my prices as it is.
And they’re getting hurt at the grocery store, too.
Camille is going through the same problem.
Prices go up, but incomes stay stagnant.
And the farmers have it worse. While prices go up for us, they get paid less for the same work they’ve been doing for decades.
Something has to give, or none of us are gonna make it.
I don’t know how we can keep serving people affordably.
I hate it, and there isn’t anything I can do about it. ”
Her voice cracked, but only slightly. I could tell she was trying to hold it together for my sake, for the customers who still lingered in their seats at the back of the diner, enjoying the last sips of their coffee.
I wished I could pull her out of here, out of this choking pressure, but Lisa was too strong for that.
She was rooted to this town, to this fight, whether I wanted her to be or not.
And the same went for me. We were all tied to this struggle, whether we liked it or not.
I took a breath and stepped around to the kitchen sink, letting the warm water run over my hands.
“Let’s focus on today first,” I said quietly, not looking up at her. “What’s the order we have to put out tomorrow?”
Lisa straightened slightly, her shoulders losing a fraction of their tension. “Bread, milk, eggs, the usual.”
“Alright, we’ll get those orders in. We’ll keep doing what we can. And if we have to raise the prices on some things, we will, just slowly. A little at a time so the customers don’t feel it too much.”
I felt her gaze on my back as I scrubbed at a pot, the motion rhythmic, calming.
I wasn’t sure if the words I said were true, or if I just needed something to hold onto myself, some plan that could carry us through one more day.
Either way, Lisa seemed to accept it. I heard her moving, picking up her ledger and tucking it back into its place behind the counter.
“You’re right,” she muttered. “One day at a time. Thanks, sis. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”
I just nodded, focusing on the task in front of me, but her words stung in a way I didn’t expect.
I wasn’t really here to save anyone. I was here trying to find myself, trying to figure out if I belonged at all.
Maybe that was something, at least, to give Lisa hope when she was close to losing it.
I just wasn’t sure how long I could keep pretending I had any answers.
Later, after closing, when the diner had gone silent, the weight of the day pressed down on me.
The diner had always been my sister’s dream, something she fought tooth and nail to keep alive.
I could see how much it hurt her, watching her passion being whittled away by forces beyond her control. The unfairness of it gnawed at me.
I sat in one of the booths, staring blankly at the window where the dark street lay empty, lost in thought.
The gifts from Chris, the financial struggle at the diner, all of it was so much to carry at once.
And still, the exhaustion, the dizziness lingered at the edges of my awareness, creeping up on me when I least expected it, like a shadow that never left my side.
“Hey.” Lisa’s voice was soft as she approached, sitting down across from me. “I know you’ve got a lot going on right now, but you’re helping me so much right now.”
“Free labor,” I said, teasing a little to try to break the tension.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s more than that, and you know it. I’m serious, I’m so glad you’re here, even if it’s a mess. We’ll figure something out with the diner, always have. Don’t let this get to you, Beth.”
I forced myself to meet her gaze. “I’m just trying to keep up. And I don’t mind helping you.”
“Good,” she said, patting my hand. “Now, I think I’ve done all I can tonight. What do you say we turn off the lights and leave the mess until tomorrow?”
I gave a slow nod. Tomorrow. Another day of trying to keep it all together, with no promise that it would get any easier. But right now, tomorrow felt too far away.
We stood and headed upstairs, leaving the quiet of the diner behind us.
As I lay down to rest, my mind returned to my old notebooks.
Of course, I hadn’t brought them with me.
They were still in Seattle. I felt stupid for leaving them behind, but I hadn’t been in the right state of mind when I left.
I still wasn’t, and that was a major problem.
My body just felt off. There was nothing that seemed to work, no way to rejuvenate myself.
But even though I had left the notebooks behind, I still remembered what was in them.
A food co-op. That was the answer. Or some version of one.
The farmers could make more and the customers could pay less.
That was the idea. Cut out the middle man that not only required higher prices to justify their existence, but actively pulled money out of small towns like this one, all to enrich already full coffers.
There had been so much promise in that idea back when I had put it down.
And it was still there, somewhere, but so far out of my reach now.
It felt impossible with how stuck we were in the daily grind.
And yet, that dream lingered. It was the only thing that seemed real anymore in a life filled with too many things that didn’t.