Love In The Stacks – by Stephanie Marie Whitson
LOVE IN THE STACKS
BY STEPHANIE MARIE WHITSON
THE SISTERS
“Your favorite customer is here,” Sheila sang out to me.
“He is not my favorite customer,” I denied her accusation as I rolled my eyes.
“Fine, but I guarantee you are his favorite server here.”
“Would you be quiet? He will hear you!” I said and grabbed one of the slightly sticky menus from the pile on the counter.
I made my way over to the booth he always used, at least while I was working my shifts.
“Good afternoon, Fred, how's the fishing been these days?” I asked.
“About the same,” he said and opened up the menu I had placed in front of him.
“Glad to hear it. I will be right back with your coffee.”
This was the time of day when all the lonely fishermen would come in after their day's catch, and it was the only time I would see Fred.
He had been coming in every week like clockwork for the past two years, at least. I made quick work of getting a fresh pot of coffee and made my way back to the table.
“Here’s your black coffee, Fred. Anything else I can get for you?” I asked.
“I was thinking of ordering a slice of pie. What kind do you suggest?” Fred asked as he poured sugar into his very black coffee.
“I hear the berry is a favorite around here,” I said.
“Perfect.” He snaps the menu together.
“I will be right back with your pie.”
I head behind the counter with the menu and open up the pie case, where we have more than a dozen different flavors.
“Again?” Sheila asks as she pulls out some peanut butter pie.
“This time I suggested the berry pie, since it is what he always ends up ordering from me.”
“I think he likes you,” Sheila announced.
“What are you talking about?”
“There has to be a reason he only sits in your section. He barely glances at anyone else when he does come in,” she pointed out.
“I think you’re reading too much into it. I think he’s lonely and needs a friend. And maybe he likes sitting by the window. Besides, no one notices me these days,” I trailed off as I opened the ice cream freezer and scooped one scoop of vanilla ice cream to plop on top of the berry pie.
“But don’t friends usually talk about things and I don’t know, hang out or whatever? And don’t think I didn’t catch that last part, young lady,” she said.
“What do you want me to do? He works on the boat all week. It’s not like I can say, ‘Hey, let's go to the movies.’”
“There’s not a movie house here,” Sheila said.
“Exactly my point. I need to get this out there before the ice cream melts,” I said and handed her the scoop.
I left Sheila and did my best to ignore her nosy comments about this nice man in my booth liking me. There’s no way he could ever like me, and I decided to put the silly notion out of my head.
“Besides, we barely talk, so how would he even know to like me?” I muttered to no one in particular as I maneuvered around the tables.
"Oh, you put ice cream on it today," Fred said.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I can take it off if you like," I said, embarrassed at my mistake.
"Not a chance, dear," he said, grabbing my hand and preventing me from walking away from the table.
"Are you sure?" I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"Positive." He slowly let go of my hand.
"Anything else I can bring you today, Fred?"
"A smile is all I need," he replied, and I graciously obliged.
"Order in!" Kevin, our cook, called from the open kitchen window.
"Let me know if you need anything," I said as I headed to pick up the order.
"You didn't have to do that," Sheila said after I dropped off her food at her table.
"I know, but I needed to step away," I said, making sure to flick my eyes toward where Fred was sitting.
"Uh oh, what happened? Did he profess his love to you? Or did you fall into his lap?" She peppered me with questions, pretending to be busy wiping down the menus on the counter.
"Would you keep your voice down," I hissed.
"I am not that loud, besides at his age I doubt he can hear this far," Sheila said.
"He is not that old." I looked over, squinted at Fred's face, studying it to make sure I was not wrong. "Just because he has some grey hair does not mean he is old."
"Then what happened?" she went back to whispering, thankfully.
"Nothing happened. Not really."
"I see," she said with a raised eyebrow.
"I added the ice cream to the pie and he commented on it. So, I offered to take it off, but he stopped me and said it was fine. I was saved by the order," I said and started wiping down some not-dirty menus of my own.
"That doesn't seem so bad."
"When I asked if I could bring him anything else, all he wanted was to see my smile," I said, letting out a heavy sigh.
"See? I told you he likes you," Sheila said, giving me a playful shove on my arm.
"It doesn't matter."
"What does that even mean? Of course it matters! Now, you can do something about it," she said.
"First of all, I will not be doing anything about it at all. Secondly, he is a customer and thirdly, I am pretty sure he is at least ten years older than me," I said, giving the last menu a wipe before tossing the rag into the cleaning bucket of sanitizer.
"I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry," Sheila said and flashed me a grin. "It's pretty slow right now, so if you want to take off early, I can hold down the fort until Rachel gets here."
I flipped my wrist to check the time and let out another heavy sigh. "It has been a long day."
"Great. Now leave before a crowd of hungry tourists arrive," she said, practically shoving my jacket onto my shoulders.
"You do realize I am your boss and not the other way around, right?" I said.
"Yes. I know. Fire me tomorrow. Now get out of here and enjoy the rest of your day," she said.
"Fine. You don't have to convince me. I do need a hot soak and these feet are killing me," I said. "Be sure to check on Fred. He does like his coffee. Don't forget to change the specials board before the dinner rush gets here."
"I know. I know. Don't worry so much, although I know you will, sis," she said.
"Call me if you need anything," I said at the employee’s side exit.
"I will do no such thing. Text, yes. Call, not if my life depended on it," she said and pulled open the door, blinding us with the bright midday light.
"Later, sis," I said.
"Later, sis," she replied.
I let the side door close behind me as I slipped on my sunglasses.
It may only be the very end of January, but sometimes the skies here sure are bright.
I took a deep breath in, filling my lungs with the smell of ocean salt air and low tide seaweed, and felt my muscles relax.
I love my job, but sometimes it stresses me out.
I was beyond thankful my sister offered to watch over things for me.
I made the short walk down the docks towards the parking lot and groaned as I felt my cell phone vibrate.
What could have happened already, I thought as I clicked on the text notification from my sister.
Go home. Relax. Drink some wine. I will be fine.
I couldn't help but smile as I tossed the phone and my purse into the passenger seat and turned my attention toward getting home.
She was right. There was a bottle of wine calling my name.
That and a mystery novel would be the perfect way to spend the afternoon.
THE LIbrARIAN
I checked the time on the dashboard, again, and laid on the horn, again. There are times I love my sister and times when I contemplate my life choices.
“Would you hold your horses,” Sheila exclaimed as she finally climbed into the front seat.
“I only agreed to give you a ride because you said you would be ready on time,” I pointed out as I shifted the car into drive.
“Look,” she said, glancing at the clock. “Plenty of time.”
“Not when we have a stop to make first,” I said, throwing her my favorite death glare.
“What stop? You didn’t say anything about a stop before work,” Sheila said.
“That is where you are wrong. I sent you a text last night telling you to be ready early.”
“No, you did not send me anything,” she said and pulled out her phone. “Oh, wait. I guess you did. Sorry.”
“You even replied.”
“I know. I guess I got busy and forgot. Where are we going, exactly?” she asked.
“The library.”
“Of course, it is the library,” she said, slumping against the door.
“And what exactly is wrong with the library?” I asked.
“Nothing, but don’t you think if you pulled your nose away from those trashy romance novels you might find a real man to love you?” she asked.
“First of all, there is nothing wrong with trashy romance novels, as you call them. Secondly, I prefer mysteries and thrillers, thank you very much,” I said and stuck my tongue out at my younger sister.
“Fine. No romance books, but my statement still stands. Spend less time reading and hiding away from the world, and you might notice someone,” she said.
“Do you even hear yourself? This town isn’t exactly big,” I said. “Are you coming in?”
“Nope. I am perfectly content to listen to my music out here,” she said.
I parked the car and grabbed my book from the back seat. “I won’t be long.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Sheila called out as I shut the car door.
I entered the library, taking a moment to inhale the perfect scent of pinewood and old books.
“Good morning, Mariah.” Gladys greeted me the same way each time I visited.
"What do we have going on here?" I asked, taking notice of the pile of pink, red and white paper scattered across the desk.
"Oh, this? It's for the blind date with a book event I'm hosting," she said, arranging the colored paper into some sort of pile. "I see you're just in time to sign up for the event."
"What? Oh no, not me."
"Why not?" she asked, handing me a book.
"Because I don't have time to date. What's this?" I asked.
"The newest thriller we got in, and everyone has time to date," Gladys said.
"I am way too busy with my restaurant." What is it with people thinking I need a date all of a sudden?