Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“No. They always give us an excellent score anyway, so I don’t need to do anything special to impress them.” I picked up a cloth and began polishing the chrome napkin dispensers along the counter.
“Then what lit a fire under your ass?”
“A friend of mine is coming by this afternoon. He’s never seen the diner in person, so I want it to look nice.”
I’d been nervous when Tory came to my frumpy little apartment for the first time, but this was worse. The diner was a part of me. It was my home, far more than that apartment. I wanted him to like it, and to understand why I thought it was so special.
She set aside the magazine and smirked at me. “A ‘friend.’ Uh huh. Would this ‘friend’ be the reason you started taking weekends off?”
“Maybe.”
“And it’s a man. That’s interesting. Not that I’m judging, obviously. I think it’s fantastic that your midlife crisis has led to some same-sex experimentation. Most people do that when they’re a lot younger. But you, well, I guess you had no choice but to be a late bloomer, what with becoming a parent so young.”
“This isn’t a mid-life crisis, and I’m not experimenting.”
“Okay. Whatever you say, Manny.” She smirked again and picked up her magazine, and I sighed as I grabbed the Windex. There was no point in trying to explain that I’d always been bisexual.
I cleaned the fingerprints off both sides of the glass door, and while I was outside, I took a few steps back to admire the building. It had a fresh coat of royal blue paint and refurbished chrome accents around the door and windows, and I’d recently had the neon sign repaired. It looked wonderful.
Three large planter boxes lined the front of the building, which I’d filled at the start of summer with a mix of pretty blue, white, and yellow flowers. I went through them and plucked a few dead leaves and spent blooms.
Then I decided I was getting completely carried away with making the diner look its best, so I went back to the paperwork waiting for me in my office.
Because our regulars were mostly retirees, dinner service got going early every afternoon. At four p.m., our bus boy and dishwasher, a second cook, and two waitresses clocked in. I left my office and began making and serving drinks, and helping the servers bring out the food as our cooks filled the orders.
This particular dinner rush was even busier than usual, because we happened to get two large parties. So when Tory arrived a little before five, the diner was hopping. I paused with a coffee pot in each hand and kissed his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said.
“Me, too. This place is fantastic!”
I beamed with pride and told him, “Take a seat at the counter, and I’ll bring you something to drink. What would you like?”
“Surprise me.”
When he sat down, I put a glass of water in front of Tory and said, “This isn’t the surprise.” Then I went down the line, chatting with my customers as I refilled their water glasses.
When I reached the far end of the counter, I whipped up a strawberry milkshake, poured it into a tall glass, and garnished it with whipped cream and a fresh strawberry. I presented it to Tory with a flourish and said, “I hope you like this. I truly believe we have the best shakes in town.”
He tasted it and told me, “That’s truly delicious,” which made me happy.
Over the next few hours, I kept bringing him things to try that I was particularly proud of, including a basket of golden French fries, another of our panko-breaded onion rings, my extremely popular macaroni and cheese, and cups of each of the three soups of the day. Dessert was my made-from-scratch strawberry shortcake.
In between, I kept moving around the dining room, chatting with customers, working the cash register, refilling drinks, and helping out wherever I was needed. I also introduced Tory to my employees and some of my regulars, who instantly treated him like family.
Every time I glanced at him, he was watching me with the sweetest expression on his face. It felt wonderful to have him here, in this place that meant so much to me.
At eight all my employees, except for the cook working the late shift, clocked out and took off. I poured myself a cup of coffee and refilled Tory’s mug as he said, “You’re still open for another two hours, right?”
“Yup.”
“But most of your staff went home. What if a busload of customers suddenly pulls up?”
I shrugged and said, “Then I’ll handle it. But chances are, that won’t happen.”
He smiled at me. “I can see why you love this place. It’s almost perfect.”
“Almost?”
“It needs a jukebox.”
“I know! I’d hoped to get one when I did the remodel, but I want something vintage as opposed to a reproduction, and they’re really expensive. If we start to turn more of a profit, it’s at the top of my wish list.”