Page 56 of Withered

An old lady approaches us with a warm smile. She’s carrying a notepad and a pen.

“What can I get you, dear?” She asks, looking at us.

Jake orders a coffee, a sandwich with corned beef, tomato, and red onion, and a beef burger. I’m not sure what it is.

The old lady whose name tag reads Helen waits for me to order. I look behind her at the counter, and my mouth waters. If this is heaven, then I’m ready to die.

“Everything looks so delicious. I’ll have that and that and that.” I gesture at almost everything.

Jake starts laughing lightly, with the old lady following him.

“Just get me a slice of everything,” I almost plead.Could I get a job here? Do they need any part-time workers?

I look up at Helen and ask, “What’s the special?”

“We have some really good traditional British cakes. There is Victoria sponge and shortbread,” Helen answers.Even the names are so fancy.

“I’ll have a slice of each, a cheesecake, with a cup of cold coffee, please,” I tell her.

Helen notes it down and wanders off near the counter. My mind is still stuck on that cheesecake. Delicious.

“You sure do eat a lot,” he speaks with an eyebrow raised. Is he trying to insult me?

“Are you implying that I am fat?” I ask him instantly.

Anger and embarrassment course through me. Did he just say that? Another part of me is concerned that he thinks I am fat. The former wins, though.

“Not at all. Don’t girls eat just salad?” He is intrigued.

“I’m not one of them,” I tell him.

He mutters something under his breath, but I don’t catch it. So, I ask, “What did you say?”

He looks at me, then says, “Nothing.”

As my glance wanders over the counter, I don’t pay much attention to him. My eyes widen as I notice cakes, donuts, and macaroons all over the place.

Jake is busy typing something on his phone when someone calls him. He looks at me, then turns around. With his height and shoulders, I have to bend to my right side to get a view.

Jake’s mom, Esme, saunters her way through the busy tables towards us. She is wearing an apron and has her hair tied up. She reaches our table and smiles at us.

“Hi, Rose, Jake,” she says in her cheerful tone, giving Jake a confused look.

“Hi, Esme. I didn’t know you worked here,” I comment.

Jake chuckles, and Esme laughs before saying, “Well now you know.”

“She doesn’t just work here,” Jake says. “This place is hers.”

My eyes widen in shock, and like a switch, the British style makes sense. I slap my hand on my forehead and turn to Esme, saying, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, besides the fact that Jake showed up here.” She gives Jake that confused look again.

He’s doing something on his phone and is least interested in our conversation.

I ask Esme, “Why is that so? If I were your daughter, I probably wouldn’t even leave this place.”

Esme smiles and answers, “Jake rarely stops by. You’re the second person he brought here.”

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