Page 2 of Pining for You

Tips which had been decreasing with each passing month, ever since the opening of a fancier breakfast chain a block away.

Luckily for the kitchen, most refugees from the storm ordered coffee, not food. Eventually Gord appeared, frowned, and then realized the dilemma. He gave the newcomers a half hour before he announced the restaurant was officially closing and waited for the customers to pay their bills and seek shelter elsewhere.

Once they’d all left, Gord stood in the middle of the restaurant and gestured for Josie, Tom and I to be seated.

I settled onto the bench of a four-top. Tom sat across from me, but Josie leaned against the wall by the front door, which earned her a frown. After studying us all, Gord took a deep breath and said, “I know you have other places you need to be, but I need to make an announcement, and I’d rather make it to you in person than over an impersonal email.”

I schooled my face into a blank expression, one I’d perfected in the hours, days, and months that I’d been questioned by police and lawyers thanks to my ex-husband’s shenanigans.

“Last week, I received notice from the mall owners that they’re going to increase the rent this year. By thirty-five percent.”

Shit. With the way the sales had been slumping, I knew what was coming and braced myself.

“Unfortunately, there’s no way I can afford that type of increase. So I’ve made a tough decision, one I haven’t made lightly.” He took another deep breath. “I’ve decided to close down the diner at the end of this month.”

My heart sank.

“Have you investigated moving to a new location? There are lots of empty places available downtown right now,” I suggested. “Or you could offer a dinner menu instead of closing at three?”

“You know how the economy is right now. Everything’s expensive, and with the tourist season about to hit, the owners around here all know they can demand top dollar.” He held out his hands in a who knows gesture. “I can’t afford to pay to have all the equipment stripped out of here and rebuilt in a new place. We’ve been scraping by on dregs for the last four years.

“I kept hoping things would turn around but …” Another shrug. “Consider this your three weeks’ notice. I’ll be happy to give you all references. I am sorry about this decision, but I can’t find a way to make it work, and believe me, I’ve tried.”

He apologized again, then disappeared into his office, shutting the door firmly despite Josie trailing after him, wailing her displeasure.

My phone buzzed with a text message. Dad reminding me to check in on Marilyn Bordon and the Tamblin campground on the way home. The “on the way home” was ironic considering the island was in the opposite direction of my apartment, but I knew what he meant. Plus, considering the ferocity of the storm, I probably would have headed to Mrs. B’s place anyway.

Wind whipped into my face when I opened the door, hard enough that I gasped and had to take a step back. I’d left my umbrella in my truck, but even if I had it, I wouldn’t dare open it without it being caught and turned inside out. Instead, I hunched my shoulders, lowered my head against the sheets of heavy rain, and dashed across the parking lot. Water ran off my chin, and my clothes were dripping by the time I climbed into the cab of my battered half-ton. Finally out of the maelstrom, I put the truck into gear and headed out.

BRAD

Lightning forked at the far end of Hawkeshead Lake. Before we heard the thunder, the skies opened up and rain torrented down, forcing me to flick the company truck’s wipers to high. I leaned forward in my seat, straining to see the car I’d been following over the causeway as the thick band of rain swallowed it up and obscured anything except about twenty feet of road ahead. Normally, I left the driving to my groundsman, but today, I’d accompanied my boss, the owner of Pine Ridge Prunery, to a meeting with a new client. While my boss was a qualified arborist too, he had reached an age where he brought me along to do any tree climbing while he chatted with the client, safe on the ground.

Sitting shotgun, John looked up from his notes about today’s meeting and grunted. “Pull over first chance you get. It’s not worth getting in an accident today.”

It was another five minutes before we reached one of the older strip malls on the eastern edge of Port Paxton where we could shelter out the worst of the storm. As I parked beside a battered blue pickup on the edge of the lot, the truck’s sound system beeped, warning of an incoming call. Since the truck’s audio system was paired to John’s phone, he reached over and hit the Answer button on the steering wheel.

“What?” John barked.

I’d have started with the more professional “Pine Ridge Prunery, Brad speaking,” but John was the boss, so he could answer the phone however he wanted.

I glanced at the screen showing the caller ID, but I didn’t recognize the name. The client—possibly a potential client—was an older man whose voice trembled in both anger and fear. He described a tree that had fallen down and nearly broken a dining-room window and taken out the power line that ran from the road. He demanded John send a team over to take care of it. Right the hell now.

While that discussion was going on, a beep announced another call was coming in. Leaving the first client with a vague “as soon as we can,” John accepted the next call. Which turned out to be a similar demand by a client west of here, the direction the storm had come from.

Luckily for this caller, the fallen branches hadn’t damaged any property, but the branches were blocking his driveway.

“Storms are always good for business,” John grunted as he disconnected the call. “That’s when all the trees people have been ignoring come down and they’re forced to pay us to clean up their negligence.”

I kept my opinion to myself. When folks around here had to choose between the mortgage and putting food on their family’s tables or cutting down a tree, the mortgage payment and food would win out every time. Old trees with dead limbs didn’t seem so important when that was the measuring stick.

Then there were the folks who figured they could save themselves some money and cut down a tree themselves. Usually, they’d get together with a neighbor who owned a chain saw and they ended up felling the tree right through their roof, or slicing their leg half off with their chain saw. I’d seen both happen.

As we waited, the wind rocking the truck, and rain still slashing down, I broke the silence with, “You done anything about hiring someone to replace Brian yet?”

The groundsman for Team Two had given his notice the previous week to go work for a firm over in Peterborough that offered better benefits. While John had been told that day, as far as I’d seen, he hadn’t started to search for a replacement.

Pine Ridge Prunery had three teams, two of which had two workers, a certified arborist like John and myself, along with a groundsman who cleaned up all the fallen branches, cut them to size, tossed them in the chipper and kept the client’s yards clean. They also helped secure the lines that held the branches on the right track as the arborist used his chain saw. Our third team had a co-op student from the local college. Which was part of my usual team, though the student had called in sick today. Probably too much partying the night last night

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