Noel stood by one of hers, a ready-to-please smile on her face. The smile faded as Mrs. Sawyer scattered the customers around in the other two waitresses’ stations. Okay, the woman had to give her some customers at some point.
Meanwhile, as the customers were seated, a burly guy with red hair and freckles started carrying glasses of water to the various tables. Grady, son of the Sawyers and heir apparent to The Rusty Saw. He looked a lot like his dad but judging from the lack of a smile, he’d inherited his mother’s disposition. Friendly work environment.
Finally Mrs. Sawyer sat two older men at one of her booths. “It’s her first day so be nice,” she told them playfully.
One of them, a grizzled little guy with a stoop, smiled at Noel. “We’ll help you out, honey.”
She fetched menus to hand them but the skinny one waved them away. “We want the same thing we have every morning. Jesse here will have eggs over easy with bacon and coffee and orange juice, and I want The Rusty Saw special, same as always.”
“The Rusty Saw special,” she repeated, and wrote that on her order slip.
“What the hell is this?” growled Bradley from the grill.
“It’s what my customer ordered,” she said.
“How the hell am I supposed to know what that is?” He threw the ticket back at her.
“You’re the cook. I thought you’d know,” she said. Her first order and she’d already messed up.
“I don’t have time to stop and figure out what the special is,” he snarled as he flipped pancakes.
Noel fled back to her section and looked up the special in one of the menus. Two eggs, three slices of bacon and one pancake. Judging by the picture, it could double as an area rug. She wrote that down and turned in her order again.
“How’m I supposed to know how they want their eggs?” Bradley snapped.
Crud. She took her order and hurried back to the table. “I’m sorry,” she said. “How do you want your eggs?”
“Sunny side up. And we’ll take that coffee anytime.”
Oh, yes, coffee. She brought back the order, praying that this time it would get the Bradley stamp of approval, then hurried to the table with her coffeepot.
“You’re doing fine, honey,” said the little man with the stooped shoulders. “First day of any job is always hard.”
“Thank you for being so patient,” she said.
As she finished pouring coffee, Mrs. Sawyer came her way with a family in tow. Not just any family. There was Ben Fordham, a little boy of about four or five holding his hand and skipping along beside him. And with them was a woman. Not just any woman, but the horrible one from the supermarket. Noel swallowed hard.
Ben stopped at the sight of her. “Noel?”
“Hi,” she stammered.
He looked as self-conscious as she felt. “What are you doing here?”
“Working,” she said lightly.
“Look, I haven’t forgotten what we talked about. My accountant’s been out of town.”
“No problem.” No pressure. Keep the smile going.
“My name’s Timmy,” the little boy piped up.
Are you staying for dinner tonight after you pick up Timmy? The woman’s one-way conversation that Noel had heard in the grocery store came roaring back into her mind. So this little boy with the same brown eyes, dark hair and irresistible smile was related to Ben. And the lizard.
“It’s my birthday,” the child announced.
Noel bent down. “How old are you today, Timmy?”
He held up one hand. “Five!”
“You’re a big boy. I’ll bet that next year you get to go to kindergarten.”
He nodded eagerly. “I go to preschool now. After school today, I get to have a party at Nana’s house.”
At Nana’s house, not Mommy’s. Where was Timmy’s mother?
Nana was smiling fondly at the child but when Noel looked at her the smile vanished. Maybe she was related to Mrs. Sawyer.
“Do you mind if we sit down?” the woman asked.
“Sorry,” Noel said and got out of the way.
“We’re on a tight schedule,” Ben explained as his mother the lizard slid into the booth.
“Of course.” Noel handed out the menus. “May I start you off with some coffee?”
“I want apple juice,” Timmy said, squirming happily in his seat.
“One apple juice coming up,” Noel said, smiling at him. He was so cute. Where was his mommy?
“We’ll take coffee,” Ben added.
Noel fetched a glass of juice and the coffeepot.
“She’s renting the house I bought,” Ben was saying to his mother when Noel returned.
So the third degree about her had already begun. Soon this woman would be back on her cell phone telling her friend, “There’s no way I’ll let that cheap little waitress with her unmanicured nails anywhere near my son.”
She set down Timmy’s apple juice and poured the coffee, then, cheeks burning, said, “I’ll be right back to take your orders.”
“Hey, darling,” called one of her little old men as she passed, “we’ll take some more of that coffee.”
Oh, yes, of course. She needed to work more efficiently.
And here came Mrs. Sawyer, bringing her more people. Riley’s grandma and her friend Mrs. Wooster. She sat them at a table near the two men, who ogled them as they walked past. Riley’s grandma reached out a hand and caught Noel’s arm. “We heard about your new job. Wanted to come support you.”
“That was so sweet of you,” Noel said. “Thank you.”
“Not really. It gives us an excuse to get out.”
“You don’t have time to visit,” Mrs. Sawyer whispered nastily in Noel’s ear then hurried back to the front of the restaurant, greeting more customers.
“I’ll get you some menus,” Noel said. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Is that coffee you’re holding?” asked Mrs. Wooster. “Pour me some, dear. I need something to settle my nerves. Terrible weather to be out in.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Riley’s grandma. “The snowplows have cleared the streets.”
“They haven’t cleared the sidewalks,” Mrs. Wooster retorted. “We’ll be lucky if we don’t fall and break every bone in our bodies.”
“Waitress!”
Noel gave a start and turned to see Ben Fordham’s mother scowling at her.
“If you’re not too busy we’d like to order,” the woman said irritably.
“Yes, right away.” Noel rushed to ditch her now-empty coffeepot and returned to Ben’s table, order pad in hand. “What would you like?”
“I want pancakes,” Timmy chirped.
“Pancakes and eggs,” corrected his grandmother. “You need protein so you can grow up big and strong like Daddy.”
Timmy didn’t look all that excited about the prospect of eggs.
“Make the eggs well-done. He won’t eat them if they’re runny,” Mrs. Fordham continued. “I’ll have the egg white omelet. Rye toast.”
“Rye toast,” Noel repeated, scribbling frantically. She was aware of more people being seated at the table behind her. Don’t panic. You can do this.
“I’ll have the special, eggs over easy,” Ben said. She nodded and was about to dash to the kitchen to place the order when he asked, “Why are you here, Noel?”
“Just earning a little extra money.”
He frowned. “Does this have anything to do with the house?”
“Actually, yes.”
“We need water over here,” said one of the new arrivals.
“We’re in a hurry,” Mrs. Fordham reminded her.
We’re in over our heads, Marvella said.
Boy, were they ever. Noel speed-walk
ed to the kitchen counter and turned in the Fordhams’ order then rushed some glasses of water to the new table, where three harried businessmen sat. In her haste she managed to tip the first water glass, making Mr. Businessman scoot his chair back...right into Mrs. Wooster, who was on her way to the restroom.
Mrs. Wooster teetered sideways and, in a panic, Noel grabbed her just before she fell, dropping the other two glasses in the process. Broken glass everywhere and Mrs. Wooster’s legs were now wet.
“I’m sorry,” Noel said to both her and the businessman.
“My pants are soaked,” he growled.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “It’s my first day. Are you okay?” she asked Mrs. Wooster.
“Yes, no thanks to this man,” Mrs. Wooster said, glaring at the angry businessman. “You almost knocked me head over teakettle,” she scolded him. “I have osteoporosis and I could have broken my hip.”
“Don’t blame me,” the man said stiffly. “Blame your waitress here. I’ll catch up with you later,” he said to his friends. “I’m going to grab a croissant and coffee at Java Josie’s. Should’ve done that in the first place,” he finished.
“I’m really sorry,” she said to his back as he stalked away.
Mrs. Wooster continued to the restroom and here was Grady with a broom and dustpan to clean up her mess. “This stuff happens,” he told her and she wanted to hug him for that scrap of kindness.
“Just bring us pancakes,” said one of the other businessmen. “And coffee.”
She nodded and went off to place their order.
The Fordham family’s orders were up and she took two of the plates. Oh, dear. There was the third. She’d seen waitresses do that balance-the-plate routine. She wasn’t sure she could manage it.
“I’ll come back for this last one.”
“The hell you will,” snarled Bradley. “Get that plate outta here. I need room to put up more orders.”
Misty was picking up one of hers. “You gotta do it sometime. Keep your arm steady. You’ll be fine.”
Noel took a deep breath, maneuvered the plates around and hoped she’d get back to her table without dropping one. That plate on her arm was pretty hot. She tried to walk quickly while balancing it. Don’t spill, don’t spill, don’t...
She made it to the Fordhams’ table before the plate tipped off her arm. There went the over-easy eggs, easily over onto Mrs. Fordham, who let out a horrified shriek.
“I’m so very sorry,” Noel said, setting the other two plates down. Ben calmly delivered his son’s breakfast to him.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“It certainly is not,” snapped his mother.
“Nana, you look funny,” Timmy said with a laugh.
Nana, however, was not laughing.
Noel grabbed a napkin from a nearby table and tried to wipe the egg off the woman’s sweater. Cashmere, ugh. First cheesecake on Ben, now eggs on his mother. This was not the way to make a good impression. And why was she trying to clean the woman off? People did that in the movies and it never worked.
It didn’t work now. The woman pulled away and yanked the napkin from Noel. “This is ruined.”
“I’ll get you another plate right away,” Noel promised Ben.
“You’ll also get the bill for a new sweater,” Mrs. Fordham warned.
Mrs. Sawyer arrived on the scene. “Is everything all right?”
Of course, nothing was all right.
“This server of yours is a disaster,” Mrs. Fordham informed her.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Sawyer, frowning at Noel. “I see that. Noel, go get a fresh plate.”
Noel hurried off, Mrs. Fordham’s words chasing her. “That girl has ruined my sweater. What are you going to do about it?”
Noel was pretty sure she knew.
Mrs. Fordham cleaned off enough of the egg to stay for Timmy’s birthday breakfast, but when Noel returned with the new plate she leaned as far away as possible.
“It could happen to anyone,” Riley’s grandma consoled her when she delivered their orders. “You can’t let little things like that upset you.”
Dumping eggs on the mother of the man she’d been trying to butter up didn’t count as a little thing, but Noel simply thanked her.
Mrs. Sawyer didn’t seat any more people in Noel’s station, even though there were people waiting by the door. That didn’t bode well.
The two older men both left her a five-dollar tip, and as they passed, Jesse said, “You can come clean house for me if she fires you.” Then he gave her a pat on the bottom and shuffled off.
In his dreams, said Marvella.
Riley’s grandma and Mrs. Wooster each left her two dollars.
Ben asked for the check, and she told him she’d cover the bill.
“And so she should,” Mrs. Fordham muttered, sliding out of the booth. “Do not leave that girl a tip.”
Ben stood up, sent Timmy off after his mother then pulled out two fifties and laid them on the table.
“Oh, no,” she began.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I’m sorry about...all this.”
She sighed as she watched him go. So was she.
Once she’d cleaned off her tables and reset them, Mrs. Sawyer made her appearance. “Noel, this is not going to work out. I think you know that.”
“I’ll get the hang of it.”
“I’m already out the cost of that ruined breakfast and a sweater. I can’t afford to give you a second chance.”
Noel handed over her tips. “This should help.”
Mrs. Sawyer’s eyes were as big as eggs. “You got that much in tips?”
“I think everyone felt sorry for me.”
Mrs. Sawyer shook her head. “They should’ve felt sorry for me.” Then she did something surprising. She gave Noel’s arm a comforting pat. “You’re not cut out for this, but that’s okay. You were meant for greater things. Do us all a favor and go home and write another book.”
Mrs. Sawyer’s unexpected kind words, coupled with her disastrous morning, brought Noel to tears. She nodded, did her best to blink them back and went to collect her coat and purse.
Misty was too busy laying down plates of pancakes to say anything, but as Noel passed, Summer managed to say, “Sorry it didn’t work out.”
That made two of them.
Chapter Fifteen
The branches of the phone tree had been shaking with calls going out to all the wives. Shelley Stilton had called Jo the night before and shared the good news, cryptic but perfectly understandable to a navy wife. “The family event will take place tomorrow at 2:00 p.m. at the bowling alley.”
Tomorrow. The very word had started Jo’s heart fluttering. It had been a long three months, but now Mike was coming home.
For all of three months. The baby wouldn’t even be crawling by the time he left again. The fluttering had stopped in a hurry.
But that was yesterday. Today she was excited to see her man.
Early in her marriage, she and the other newbie wives had gone to the pier to meet the sub. It had been late coming in to the Bangor Naval Base, and they’d spent two hours waiting and almost froze to death. Of course, it hadn’t helped that they’d all dressed sexily. Big mistake. The waterfront piers where the boats tied up had cranes and various cables and other obstacles waiting to trip an unsuspecting woman wearing heels. One of her friends had tripped and sprained her ankle. The cold wind coming off the water had raced up their skirts and left them all shivering.
They got smart after that and became more practical in their choice of clothing. They also took to waiting at the bowling alley where it was warm and they could order pizza and let their excited offspring run wild. When the time came, buses hauled them to the pier.
Jo still w
as going to dress cute, but it was winter so maternity leggings and a long sweater would have to do. After she’d fed Mikey and put him down for his nap, she got into her welcome home outfit. Her legs still looked great and the sweater helped hide some of the baby fat she needed to lose. Concealer took care of the dark circles under her eyes that proclaimed her a new, sleep-deprived mother. Mascara, eyeliner and lipstick brought her face to life. She inspected herself in the mirror and gave herself a passing grade.
Her mom showed up for baby patrol a little before one. “You look lovely,” she said, hugging Jo.
“I feel like a whale.”
“Everyone does after having a baby. You’ll lose it in no time. Now, where’s my adorable grandson?”
“Napping. I’ve pumped some milk for him in case he wakes up. It’s in the fridge. I tried him on a bottle last night and he took it fine so that should hold him until we get back. If he spits up I’ve laid out another outfit on the changing table. And if there’s any problem, call me. I don’t know how long I’ll be. If the boat is late coming in...”
“Don’t worry, dear. I’ve done this a few times before,” Mom assured her.
Still... “I can come back if necessary and Mike can catch a ride to town.” That probably wouldn’t make him happy but now they had someone in their lives to consider besides themselves.
“We’ll be fine. Go,” Mom said.
Yes, she needed to get out the door.
She made the drive to the naval base outside Poulsbo in record time. In fact, she arrived at the base bowling alley a little early. Most of the other wives were already there. Pizzas had been ordered. Someone had hired a face-painter and she was busy painting stars and lightning bolts and rainbows on the younger children. Many of the kids were bowling. Some of the older ones were playing arcade games. The toddlers were mostly fussy, wanting their afternoon naps.
Jo found her pal Arlene Mendoza seated at one of the lanes, holding a sleeping six-month-old on her lap while her two older children were bowling. Both had their faces painted. Her four-year-old daughter, Amanda, sported a rainbow on her cheek and her six-year-old, Anthony, wore lightning bolts.
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