Page 2 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“What are my choices?” I asked calmly.
The girl huffed, her lips thinning in annoyance. “Didn’t you see the specials on the board when you came in?”
I glanced toward where I’d come in and squinted. “No. I must have missed it.”
“Larissa,” snapped the older woman. “Table four’s order is up. Go on. I’ve got this.”
The girl scowled at me like I was the source of all her problems and left, and the feisty woman with the pixie cut approached my table with a laminated menu of lunch specials.
“I’m sorry about that,” the woman apologized. “She hasn’t quite gotten the hang of things yet. I’m Rose. Can I get you something to drink while you’re looking over the specials?”
“Unsweetened iced tea, please.”
“You got it.”
I looked over the menu, my stomach growling as I did so. Everything sounded good, and if the smells coming from the kitchen were any indication, I wouldn’t be disappointed. Remembering my growing ass, I chose the soup and salad special, dressing on the side, when Rose returned with my iced tea.
My order was out within minutes, dropped unceremoniously on the table by Larissa without comment. I thanked her anyway, earning myself a lip curl. She probably thought I was being snarky, but I wasn’t. I’d waited enough tables to know it was a tough job. Maybe she was just having a bad day.
As I tucked into my healthy and surprisingly delicious meal, I casually took stock of the goings-on around me. I’d picked a good time. The lunch crowd was gone, and it was too early for dinner. A couple of older guys sat at the bar, watching ESPN on the flat screens hanging inconspicuously in the corners. A trio of middle-aged women sat a few tables to my right, heads leaning in, no doubt sharing a particularly juicy piece of local gossip. A lone man, absently stirring a bottomless cup of coffee, read the paper as his pie sat, untouched. And …
Hello there.
A guy about my age entered through the back entrance and strode directly to the bar. Silky-looking brown hair, nicely built physique. He didn’t look my way once, so I only saw his profile, but it was a nice one. He leaned on the bar and spoke to Rose, who grinned at him and scurried off into the kitchen.
The man straightened, ran a hand through his hair, and glanced around. Before he could make eye contact, I dropped my gaze and gave my phone my full attention. It wasn’t turned on, but he didn’t know that.
I knew immediately when his gaze landed on me. Ifeltit. It was curious. Probing. Wondering who I was and what I was doing in his town.
I’m no one. Just a passer-through having lunch. Nothing to see here.
Rose returned, and the sense of being in his sights ceased immediately. I chanced a glance, confirming my original observations. He was a good-looking man. About my age, maybe a little older. Clean-shaven. Well-built and tanned, like he spent a decent amount of time outside. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a name and logo I couldn’t quite make out from where I was.
Rose gave him a takeout bag; he handed her money and wished her a good day. Then, he turned and headed toward the door in which he’d entered.
Right past me.
I kept my head down and thumbed my blank screen. I sensed him slowing as he walked by, as if waiting for me to look up.
I didn’t. There was no point.
He kept going and exited through the back door.
I exhaled discreetly and returned my attention to my meal. The portion sizes were huge. I wouldn’t have to eat again for the rest of the day.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Rose exclaimed a short while later, her shrill voice carrying across the lounge. “John!” she called. “Get over here. We have a problem.”
A sturdy-looking man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair loped into view. I pegged him immediately as former military. A Marine maybe. Retired.
He leaned down and brushed a kiss on Rose’s cheek. “What’s up, beautiful?”
Even from where I sat, I could see Rose soften. I knew instinctively that they were married and he was her rock. Don’t ask me how. I just did.
“We have a bus with seventy-five people fifteen minutes out, and Shannon just called and said her car won’t start. Michelle’s in school, and I can’t get ahold of Sandy. Larissa can’t handle seven, let alone seventy-five.”
A large, powerfully built man in a white chef’s coat joined the party. His long black hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail; his features were too rugged to be called handsome. Striking maybe. He reminded me of a bear. Or a wood carving of a bear, done with a chain saw.
Rose repeated her concern, her voice sounding more panicked the second time.
