Chapter Seventeen
“We’ve got more orders than normal,” Travis announced. He entered the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes, which he set on the worktable, and slips of paper he’d scratched the orders on, which he handed to Bethany.
Bethany glanced at the papers. Her stomach roiled and twisted like a pot of boiling acid. “Angel here yet?”
Travis shook his head. “She’s sick. So’s her mom. Mitch Williams is by himself in the store next door. But the three boys from yesterday are here.”
“Oh, great. Send them in, would you?”
“I will, but they look like they haven’t eaten in months. I came in to get them breakfast.”
“Okay. Did you call Rosie?”
Travis loaded plates with heaping piles of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausages before carrying them toward the door.
He called over his shoulder, “Yeah. She’s got a job cleaning this morning.
It’s a big house and the owner’s letting her bring the girls.
She can’t help us this morning, but they’ll come once they’re done.
” He slipped through the swinging doors, and Bethany closed her eyes for a moment.
Her head throbbed as if angry gremlins with hammers were pounding on her temples.
Served her right. What an idiot she’d been last night, drinking too much wine, falling asleep on Hank’s couch, and then waking up to that horrible conversation.
She opened her eyes to see Travis was back with another stack of dirty dishes and more yellow slips of paper.
“Are you okay?”
Bethany nodded and said a silent prayer to get through the rest of the day without tossing her cookies. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“The table closest to the front window wants two breakfast specials as takeout and a dozen donuts. Oh, and Sam’s here with Gypsy. He’s asking for you.”
Bethany came from behind the worktable and wiped her hands on a blue-striped towel. “Okay. Why do you look like you’re ready to tell someone off?”
“He’s here again. Dressed funny this time. I almost didn’t recognize him.”
Bethany stilled. She didn’t bother to ask Travis who he meant. “How’s he dressed?”
Travis shrugged. “I think he’s supposed to be a handyman. He’s got on overalls and a matching blue hat. You want me to kick him out?”
Yes. She shook her head and sighed. “No, I’ll handle him.”
“That lady’s here, too—Elizabeth. I heard them arguing in the corner. At least they aren’t attracting a crowd this time.”
Hank’s voice from last night echoed in her head.
I don’t need your advice on who to sleep with.
Bethany bit her lip. He didn’t know it, but she’d heard a good part of his conversation with Elizabeth.
If she hadn’t been so humiliated and hurt, she would have called him out on it right then and there.
Thank goodness she’d thought to have Travis pick her up. “What are they talking about?”
“Who knows? He’s got his toolbox. I don’t think she likes it. I heard her tell him he’s wasting his time here.”
Bethany grabbed a pitcher of orange juice. “Well, on that point, we agree. Work on filling the orders. I’ll take care of Sam and . . . them.”
Travis looked like he wanted to say more, but Bethany didn’t stick around to hear it.
Instead, she breezed into the dining area, trying to keep her gaze from Hank and Elizabeth and failing.
They were in the middle of a heated conversation and didn’t notice her.
Bethany kept moving. She nodded at the boys, who looked like they’d eaten half their breakfasts already, and spotted Sam. She made a beeline for his table.
“Hi, Sam. Orange juice?”
Sam removed his hat. “Morning, Bethany. That’d be fine. Looks like another sunny day.”
Bethany filled his cup. “That it is. Your usual for breakfast?”
“Yes, indeed. I’m looking forward to eggs and hash browns.” Sam squinted at something over her shoulder. “Did you hire a maintenance man?”
“Oh.” Bethany turned, sloshing the orange juice.
Hank stood behind her in a white shirt and blue jean overalls, as Travis had warned.
The overalls had pockets. In one, Bethany spied a tape measure.
She raised her gaze to Hank’s, who in turn arched a brow at her inspection from under a blue baseball cap—as if there was nothing odd about the way he had dressed, as if Bethany were the odd one.
“Good morning.” He grinned and held up his toolbox. “I thought I’d get started with the kitchen today.” He tilted his thumb over his shoulder.
Now it was Bethany’s turn to raise a brow. “The kitchen?”
Hank smiled wider, if that were possible. “I plan to look at that cranky dishwasher.”
She made a face. “It’s not cranky—just old.”
“She’s not the only old and cranky thing in this café.
” Sam cackled, bringing Bethany back to her surroundings with a jerk.
Orange juice splashed up the sides of the pitcher and she placed it on the table.
Sam wasn’t wrong—Bethany certainly felt old and cranky worrying about what would happen to the family business—but she cringed inwardly, wondering what Hank was thinking.
Hank laughed, and Bethany felt her cheeks warm. He obviously thought the description was amusing. She ignored him and turned to Sam, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sam, I’m not that old and cranky, am I?”
Sam’s smile faded. “Oh, I didn’t mean you.” He pointed at his chest and sighed. “I was talking about myself. At least, that’s what my wife always called me—old and cranky.”
Bethany sniffed. “She didn’t deserve you.”
“They don’t make ’em like this one,” Sam said to Hank. “Prettiest and kindest girl around to an old fellow like me. You treat her right now, ya hear?”
Hank tipped his hat. “That’s my plan.”
“Uh, Sam, Hank and my relationship—it’s business. He’s here to make improvements to the building.”
Sam didn’t look convinced. He straightened his bow tie. “I thought he was an actor?”
Bethany wiped the handle of the pitcher with her apron. She didn’t look at Hank. “Well, he also happens to own this building. He’s agreed to let me rent for a couple of months and to fix up the place. That’s why he’s dressed like”—she flung a hand in Hank’s direction—“this.”
“That right?” Sam squinted at Hank and then shook his head, like he couldn’t make sense of the outfit. His gaze flitted from Bethany to Hank and back to Bethany. “He owns this building?”
She kept her voice cool. “Yes, for the time being.” A meowing sounded at her feet and Bethany used the opportunity to reach down and pet Gypsy. “He plans to sell for a profit.”
Gypsy purred and Bethany kept her gaze on the cat and far away from Hank. “To Travis and me, if we can come up with a down payment.”
Sam clapped his hands. “That’s wonderful news. We know how worried ya been. Ain’t that right, Gypsy, my dear?”
Gypsy meowed in answer. Bethany straightened and grabbed the orange juice.
Let Hank worm himself out of that one. Mister-I-Can’t-Afford-Distractions.
She flashed a hard smile at Hank, who didn’t look as fazed as she’d imagined he would be.
Then she turned to Sam. “I’ll be right back with your breakfast and something special for Gypsy. ”
“I’ll be here, waitin’,” Sam said.
Bethany took off toward the kitchen, not looking to see if Hank followed. Of course, he caught up to her with an easy stride.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She tried to speed up, but when she entered the kitchen, he was still by her side. She pointed to the right. “Dishwasher’s over there.”
Travis shot her a concerned look when he saw Hank, but when she shook her head to show she had the situation under control, he left the kitchen carrying several plates of food.
Bethany moved to the cupboard, where she kept her prettiest china, and found a plate.
Turning back to the worktable, she began scooping scrambled eggs onto the plate, while Hank remained standing in the same spot.
Bethany flitted him a glance. He had taken off his hat and was twirling it in his hand.
Somehow, he made a pair of handyman overalls look impressive.
“I thought you were here to fix things?” Bethany huffed.
“That’s all I get? Not even a good morning and thank you for the dinner last night?”
Bethany stopped what she was doing and plastered on a polite smile. “Good morning, Hank. Dinner last night was delicious. Thank you. I’m sorry, but I’ve got customers to feed.” She held up the plate. “I need to get this to Sam while it’s hot.”
Hank ignored her, standing in the way like a cement giant.
Bethany tried to get by but couldn’t squeeze past. She gave a sigh and tipped her head to the side. “What is it?”
“I thought we agreed to be friends,” he said, his voice mild. “What happened between last night and this morning to change your mind?”
“Nothing.” She kept her gaze on the plate of food to keep it from spilling and to avoid Hank’s penetrating eyes.
“Last night you fell asleep on my shoulder.”
She had? Her gaze caught his, and she couldn’t look away. She raised the plate a little. “Food’s getting cold.”
He didn’t budge. “Was it something I said?”
He was not going to move until she gave him an answer. Fine, she would give him one. “Elizabeth . . . nice to know I’m an amusing distraction.”
“Ah.” His tone was thoughtful. “You overheard our phone call.”
“Yes, now will you let me by?”
“So this means we can no longer be friends? And here I thought we’d made progress last night.”
Bethany looked around. Although she knew the kitchen was empty except for the two of them, she dropped her voice. “Hank, you were talking to Elizabeth about sleeping with me. That doesn’t sound like a friend.”
“I just said that to get her off my back. I’ve known her a long time. She tends to interfere in my personal life. I’m sorry you had to overhear that.”
Silence reigned between them for a moment. A silence fraught with accusations and anger and hurt. At least on her part. “Apology accepted. Now, can I get by?”
Hank’s expression was guarded as he lifted his toolbox. “I’d better take a look at that dishwasher.”
He stepped aside, leaving her free to deliver Sam’s breakfast.