by Rebeca Seitz
“I think we should move to mandatory three-day weekends in this country.”
“A slogan that will get you elected for sure.”
She filled the cup next to him and the old timer smiled. She nodded, then came back to the conversation. “I don’t have time to run for office. This place keeps me hopping.”
“You know, you’re in here every time I come in. Do you ever go home?”
Her blue eyes traveled around the room. “This is home.”
“Well, it’s a great place and the company is exceptional, but when do you go home, put your feet up, relax?”
“See the posted hours on the door? Add one minute to closing time and you’ll know when I start relaxing.”
He couldn’t quite believe what he heard. “You mean you’re here every minute the doors are open?”
“Yep.”
“But … but why?”
Laughter filled her eyes and he felt like the butt of a joke he hadn’t known had been told. “Jay, what do you think I do here?”
“Wait on the customers.”
“Hmm, true.” She walked down the counter, picking up empty plates and refilling coffee cups along the way. She did it all with an expert touch that he’d realized from day one made her the world’s most perfect waitress. “I’m a little bit more than the waitress, though.”
The older gentleman sitting by Jamison’s side looked up. His face had more wrinkles than a used piece of aluminum foil, but kindness shone through his watery green eyes. Jamison smiled back.
“You think Karen’s the waitress?” the old timer asked.
“I’m gathering she might be a little something else.”
The grandpa chuckled. “Oh, she’s something else all right.”
Jamison looked toward Karen for explanation, but she’d escaped to the kitchen. He could see her back through the pick-up window. “What else is she?” Did he really want to know? Hadn’t he come here to end things? Now here he sat learning more, getting in deeper, rather than cutting the tie that bound him here.
“Karen’s owned this place for years. Ever since her daddy up and had a heart attack mowing the yard one day. Karen came in here, whipped up a batch of pancakes and the best pot of coffee anybody’d ever tasted and that took care of all the questions about what would happen to Wimpy’s.”
“How old was she?”
The watery green eyes turned to the ceiling as he put a finger to his chin. Jamison waited.
“Oh, ’bout eighteen or nineteen, I guess. We all knew she would have headed out to college if her daddy hadn’t passed like that, but he did and she made the best of it. That’s little Karen for you. Always making lemonade outta life’s lemons.”
Jamison turned wide eyes toward the kitchen. “She took over this place as a teenager?” He’d respected her before, but now Karen began to take on mythological proportions in his mind. “Where was her mother?”
“Oh, Carrie was tore up with grief, that one. Didn’t come out of her house for a year after Paulie passed, ’cept for the funeral. The womenfolk all tried to get her back into the land of the living, but it’s like I told my Trudie, sometimes a body’s got to be left alone to grieve. Most folks thought Carrie’d grieve herself right into an early grave, but she pulled it together in the end.”
“Does she work here at the diner?”
“Nope. Hasn’t set foot in the place since Paulie’s death. She’s happy to leave things to Karen and Karen’s happy to have it that way.” The old man leaned into Jamison and lowered his voice. “Never a whole lot of love lost between Karen and Carrie—Karen was a Daddy’s girl from the time she knew she had opinions.”
Jamison could see that about her. The way she responded to the grandpas who came in here, like she was their long lost granddaughter eager to wait on them hand and foot—he should have seen that before now. And no wonder she could hold her own in a conversation. She’d had to learn to think on her feet at eighteen. What a burden for a kid. At eighteen, he’d been head over heels in love with Meg without a clue what to do about it.
Thank the good Lord above, they’d figured it out, but he couldn’t imagine being handed an entire business to run fresh out of high school. His estimation of Karen continued to rise.
“So, all my dirty laundry been freshly aired now?” Karen’s voice held laughter and her eyes glinted when she teased.
He took a sip of coffee, appreciating more how good it was than he had before he’d known it as the recipe of a teenager. “Aired, folded, and put back in the closet. You’ve been holding out on me.”
“I haven’t. What did you expect? I’d sit a newcomer down on a stool and say, ‘Let me tell you my life history’?”
“No, but that’s some history you’ve got.”
She shrugged. “It’s the life I got dealt. Just like you, I handle what I can and hope the rest doesn’t kill me.”
“That’s why I came in here today, actually.” Might as well get this over with. If he stayed to learn too much more about her, his heart might get into trouble and the last thing he needed was an iffy relationship when Meg had finally come around.
“Oh?” She set the coffee pot on its burner and gave him her full attention. “More troubles at home?”
“Actually, just the opposite. My wife and I had a great weekend together and it looks like maybe things are turning around.”
She stared at him for a minute. It took only that for him to know that, for Karen, what he’d shared with her went beyond a passing friendship. He swallowed hard. Had she ever thought there might be something more between them?
When he met her eyes, he had his answer.
“That’s good to hear.” Her tone was low, no longer the playful voice he’d grown accustomed to hearing. “I guess, then, this is your last cup of coffee?”
Did it have to be? His soul said yes and, though he wanted to argue, he knew he’d better stop this while he still could. He nodded.
“I see.” She reached behind and retrieved the coffee pot. Filling his to the brim, she said, “We’ll miss seeing you around here, Jay.”
He wrapped his hands around the warm mug and decided to be truthful. “I’ll miss being around here.”
Nineteen
Meg woke to the songs of bluebirds and sparrows outside her window. For a moment, she felt like Snow White walking through the forest with birds trilling all around.
Then she looked at the clock.
Good grief, the kids needed breakfast an hour ago. How in the world had she managed to sleep this late?
Memories of the night before with Jamison flooded her brain and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. It had been a long time since they’d shared that kind of intimacy and she’d been a little awkward in the beginning. But Jamison had given her a safe place to figure even this part out again. She felt a rush of gratitude for such a patient man.
Quickly tossing off the sheets, she left the bed and hurried to get into the shower. Jenny had probably come by now, which explained why three children weren’t in her bedroom clamoring for breakfast. If they got too hungry, Jenny would take care of it. Knowing Jamison, he’d told Jenny to let Meg sleep as long as she wanted.
Jamison, sweet Jamison.
She stepped into the shower and turned on the water, recoiling at the shock of cold before it warmed up. As she slid the soap bar over her skin, thoughts of what she and Jamison had shared played across her mind. She felt joyously alive. Her life was coming back! She’d beaten back a brain tumor and endured her taste buds turning off and her sense of smell taking a vacation and even the loss and restoration of her driver’s license, but she still had her life and her kids and her husband. Life was good!
Rinsing off, she reveled in the flow of warm water for a few more minutes, not quite ready to trade the wife hat for mom hat yet. It’d been a long time since she wore the wife hat and putting it back on had been wonderful.
She’d definitely be wearing it again tonight.
Finally stepping f
rom the shower, she toweled off and padded into the bedroom. Jamison had probably made it to the office by now and she wanted to tell him good morning, to hear his voice one more time before going about her day.
She dialed the familiar number and waited until the receptionist answered the phone.
“Jamison Fawcett’s office. This is Amber. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Amber. It’s Mrs. Fawcett. Can you put me through to Mr. Fawcett, please?”
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Fawcett! How are you feeling?”
“Wonderful, Amber, thanks for asking.”
“Oh, shoot. Should I have asked that? I shouldn’t have asked that. It was rude.”
Meg held her laughter in. “No, Amber, it was a very polite and considerate thing to do.” They still had quite a bit to teach the young girl about reception work. “Is Mr. Fawcett in, please?”
“Not yet, but I expect him here any minute.”
Meg must have just missed him. Evidently he had needed to sleep in as much as she. “All right. Will you tell him I called, please, when he arrives?”
“No problem, Mrs. Fawcett.”
“Thanks, Amber.” She hung up and thought about calling his cell. No, it’d be nicer to have him call her.
She dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and left the bedroom in search of the kids.
She found them at the breakfast table, hands and faces covered in syrup. Otis sat beneath Savannah’s chair, waiting on her to drop a bite.
“Good morning, Meg,” Jenny greeted her. “Feeling better?”
“Much, Jenny, thanks.” Meg moved to the coffee pot and fixed herself a cup. “Thanks for getting breakfast ready.”
“It was nothing.”
“Well, thanks all the same.” No doubt about it, they should have hired Jenny years ago. Not that she fancied herself one of those women with hired help, but if anything good had come from the surgery, it was having a valid reason to hire someone for the household stuff. Meg was free to enjoy the kids and focus on getting better now. She’d felt a little guilty at first—after all, why spend money on someone who did what they were perfectly capable of doing themselves?—but the value of having free time to heal and play with the kids and be with Jamison put a stop to the guilt in short order.
Besides, Jenny needed the money so this could even be seen as a good deed. Didn’t the Bible say everyone should work for his wages? Here was Jenny, willing to work and needing a job. Their need of help coincided nicely with her desire to work.
Meg sat down at the table with the kids. “Hey, kiddos. Anybody got any ideas for what they want to do today?”
James chugged his chocolate milk, then wiped off a milk moustache. “Can we go to Aunt Joy’s and swim?”
Savannah quickly joined in. “Oh, yeah! Can we, Mommy, please?”
Hannah, not too sure what they were talking about but clearly not wanting to be left out, said, “Me, too!”
Ever since Joy and Scott got an inground pool four years ago, complete with waterfall and slide, Meg had spent half her summer in their backyard. She and Jamison visited the idea of getting a pool of their own every year when the thermometer hovered at 75 degrees, but they’d never gotten one. Why deal with the hassle of it when she could run over to Joy’s and play in hers?
“I’ll call Aunt Joy and see if she’s busy today.”
A chorus of cheers rose from the table and Meg went to the phone on the kitchen wall. She dialed and waited through two rings, knowing Joy wouldn’t answer until her caller ID had a chance to work.
“Lasky residence.”
Which didn’t mean she’d break decorum for a second. “Hi, Joy. It’s Meg, though you knew that from your caller ID.”
“I’ve told you before, I don’t trust the thing. It may have said Jamison Fawcett and meant entirely something else.”
Meg chuckled. “In all your years of caller ID, has it ever once malfunctioned?”
“Well, no.”
“And yet you still don’t trust it?”
“That’s right.”
Meg shook her head. “You know you’re a nutcase, right?”
“Yes, but you love me anyway.”
“That I do. And, because you love me, I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor precipitated by a reminder of love. Lay it on me, I’m sufficiently prepared.”
“Would you mind if the kids and I came over for a swim?”
“Mind? Oh, sister, I wondered just this morning how I could drag you over here. Gather up those kids and come on.”
“Really? You didn’t have plans for the day?”
“You know I don’t go into the salon on Mondays. Come on over! Can you stay through lunch?”
“Actually, I was thinking we’d come around lunchtime if that’s okay.”
“Sure. We’ll see you then.”
“Thanks, Joy.”
“No thanks needed.”
Meg hung up the phone, counting her blessings again for great sisters.
“Good news, kids! We can go over to Aunt Joy’s to swim in a few hours.”
“Not right now?” Jamison pushed another bite of pancake into his mouth.
“No, right now you have a bedroom that I’m certain needs some attention and you, too, Savannah.”
“Me, too!” Hannah echoed.
Jenny’s laughter sounded behind Meg. “Yes, you, too, Hannah. How about you help Mommy with the laundry?”
“Oh I can do that, Meg,” Jenny said and Meg turned to her.
“I know, but I’m feeling great this morning and thought it’d be nice to do a little laundry again. I haven’t done a lick of it since I got home from the hospital and I’ve got to get back into the swing of things at some point.”
“Okay.” Jenny couldn’t hide a small frown.
“Don’t worry.” Meg laid a hand on Jenny’s arm. “I have no intention of taking on everything again anytime soon. I’ll probably get one load started and decide I’ve had enough and leave the rest to you.”
She was rewarded with a grin. “All right, then, I won’t complain about one less load of laundry.”
Meg nodded and headed for the laundry room. “Jamison, Savannah, get started on your rooms as soon as you’re finished with breakfast. Remember, the longer you take, the longer before we leave for Aunt Joy’s.”
The sound of chairs scraping against tile made her smile. She’d lay dollars to donuts their rooms would be spic and span—well, at least as spic and span as an eight-year-old and five-year-old could do—in a matter of minutes.
The laundry room smelled like fabric softener. Meg inhaled the familiar scent. Laundry had always been her favorite chore in the house, probably because she could dump the mess in a machine and walk away. Come back thirty minutes later and—ta da!—no more mess. If someone ever invented a washing machine for dogs, she’d snap one up in a second.
She doubted Otis had been treated to a bath since the last one she gave him. Did Jenny do dog baths? She’d find out.
Three baskets of laundry sat neatly by her upright washing machine and dryer. Looked like Jenny had already gathered up the dirty clothes for her. Man, that woman was efficient. Meg had slept through the entire thing.
Knowing the whole family’s penchant for leaving things in their pockets, she began going through each pair of shorts and pants before putting them in the laundry. She pulled a marble from James’s blue-jean shorts, then a Barbie shoe from the front pocket of Savannah’s T-shirt dress. Hannah’s pockets all came away clean. She picked up the last article of clothing, Jamison’s gray pants.
It was truly amazing how many clothes she could wash at one time in these upright machines. Jamison had given them to her as a Christmas present three years ago. At the time she’d wondered if that said something about their relationship. But having the ability to stuff a gazillion things in the washer had cut down on her laundry time enough to make her grateful for the gift.
Slipping a hand into the pants pocket, she encountered paper. Jamison and hi
s receipts. This one came from somewhere called Wimpy’s. Meg thought she’d heard of the place before but couldn’t remember where. Then she remembered. Wimpy’s, the burger joint in Greenfield. Kind of their equivalent of Clay’s, though she doubted anyone could make a burger better than Clay’s.
What was Jamison doing over in Greenfield? Must have a new client or something. She checked the receipt.
Nope, coffee and a breakfast platter, whatever that was. Jamison drove all the way to Greenfield for breakfast? The thought struck her like a rain shower in sunshine. As far as she could remember, he hadn’t mentioned going to Greenfield for breakfast. Had he not thought it important enough to mention or was he hiding something from her?
Come to think of it, was this why he hadn’t been in the office when she called? She shoved the pants in the machine, added detergent, and punched buttons to start it up. Then she went to find Jenny.
Jenny was attacking the entertainment center in the living room with a rag and a can of the antibacterial Pledge that left such a clean smell behind.
“Jenny?”
“Hmm?”
“Were you here when Jamison left this morning?”
“I came as he was leaving, yes.” Jenny didn’t turn from her cleaning.
“Do you know what time that was?”
Now Jenny stopped and looked at her. Meg felt dumb not knowing what time her husband had left for work. Would Jenny think the question odd?
“I left the house just before the national news came on, so I got here a little after seven.”
And she’d awakened at 8:32. She remembered checking the clock. That left him plenty of time to get to the office except that he hadn’t gone directly to the office from here.
He’d gone to Wimpy’s for breakfast. Maybe.
She had to keep a level head here and not jump to conclusions. Even if he did drive to Greenfield for breakfast, there was nothing wrong with that. Maybe he preferred Wimpy’s eggs to Clay’s. Maybe he needed a little alone time in the morning to get mentally prepared for work.
“Meg?”
Jenny’s voice startled her and she realized the woman still stood waiting for her next question.