Back to the Good Fortune Diner

by Vicki Essex

  He wasn’t sure that was censure in her dark eyes when she looked up, but there was definitely something. Hurt? Resentment?

  “Congratulations,” she said, and he quirked his eyebrow.

  “On the divorce?”

  “On the birth of your son. I guess it’s kind of late to say it, though.”

  “Better late than never, right?” He chuckled weakly. Her lips lifted a fraction and she sipped her beverage.

  Up close with the afternoon light bathing the café, he noticed the slight swelling in her jaw, the faint bruises beneath a light covering of powder. He’d never thought of her as someone who would wear makeup, but she certainly did now. Her lashes were sooty with mascara, her eye shadow and eyeliner glimmering with a hint of sparkle. Lip gloss made her rosebud mouth appear jeweled. Tiffany resembled a silver-screen starlet. It was all aesthetically pleasing in that glossy magazine way, but he found himself thinking about the girl beneath.

  “So, you have any other kids?” she asked, interrupting his frank appraisal.

  “No, just Simon...actually, he’s the reason I wanted to see you. He failed English this year. Shakespeare caused him trouble, apparently.”

  She gave a ghost of a smile. “Like father like son.”

  “I haven’t been around much to help him, so it’s partly my fault.” He glanced into his cup. “He’s going to retake the class over the summer, but I want him to have help, not only in English, but in whatever else he might want to work on. Would you be willing to tutor him?”

  She lifted her eyes as if she were studying a menu above his head. “It’s been a while since I’ve brushed up on my Shakespeare.”

  “What he really needs is guidance, someone to stick by him and make sure he’s trying. He’s not stupid—I know he’s not, even if he tries to pass himself off as being below average.”

  “Something else the two of you share in common,” she said wryly.

  “Hey, I genuinely needed the help,” he protested.

  “You needed a babysitter.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “You’re selling yourself short.”

  “I try to be humble.” Her gaze remained fixed on his.

  It was an apt word for her, he thought. On graduation day, when her name was called, she’d glided serenely up to accept her scholarship to NYU, her award for academic excellence and her high school diploma. Barely anyone clapped. Despite all her achievements, she’d simply accepted her prize with a smile, then descended.

  That had been the last time he’d seen her. He couldn’t find her after the ceremony. She hadn’t shown up at any of the grad parties, either, but that was hardly a surprise. A week later, he found out she’d left for New York.

  Tiffany sat back, her all-business mask dropping smoothly over her face. “I don’t know how long I’ll be in Everville. I’ve been applying for jobs back in New York and could get called at any time.”

  “I appreciate that, of course. But Simon needs someone, and I’d like that someone to be you. I’d pay you, of course. I can’t afford much, though.” He named a reasonable hourly rate, much better than the paltry sum he’d given her back in the day, but she deserved more. “You’d come at least three times a week for two hours a session, minimum. You could probably work that around a second part-time job if you had to.”

  Those two lines re-formed between her eyes. “You understand if I get a job on Friday, I’m leaving, right?”

  “What’s the hurry?” he asked on a half laugh, but she didn’t return his humor.

  “I have a life to get back to. My plans have been...interrupted. I need to start working again as soon as possible.” She made it sound as if she were racing against the clock.

  Same old Tiffany. She knew what she wanted, knew how to get it. She was an intelligent, ambitious woman with laserlike focus and a mission. He couldn’t blame her for not staying in Everville when she could have the world.

  It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did.

  * * *

  TIFFANY NEEDED TO LEAVE before she embarrassed herself.

  Chris Jamieson was hot. Scalding H-O-T. The golden boy was now a golden man, and staring at him was like staring at the sun. She was going to go blind or melt in her seat if she stayed any longer.

  Her crush hadn’t abated. Not one bit. And now, as a woman who’d literally had sex a blue moon ago, she was pretty sure her panties were on fire.

  Chris had always been tall, but now he was also big. Broad, with muscles that bulged beneath his fitted T-shirt. His bare forearms sported a fine thatching of dark gold hair, and his hands, with their long, strong fingers used to curving around a football, now delicately curled around his mug. He’d grown into his features, too, his chin and jaw more square and pronounced, the cleft peeking out behind the three-day growth of dark gold stubble. A dimple flashed with every easy smile. Crow’s feet added a touch of worldliness to his avenging angel look. Actually, he looked more like a Norse god, minus the helmet.

  He was saying something about his son, but she couldn’t hear him above the silent scream ringing in her ears. His pretty, sculpted lips were moving, but she couldn’t register the sound because, wow, those lips. She bet those bristles tickled.

  Staring into his sky-blue eyes was her final mistake. She didn’t know what drowning in another person’s eyes meant until she accidentally sucked her latte down the wrong pipe.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as she spluttered and coughed.

  “Hot...” she rasped, praying there wasn’t coffee snot hanging from her running nose. He handed her some napkins and worked on the spill around her cup, his hand brushing lightly against her elbow. She yanked it away as though scalded and nearly knocked the rest of her drink over.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped. Her cheeks were burning, and tears clumped in her mascara. Dammit, she knew she’d put on too much. She recomposed herself and sat up straighter. “Thank you.”

  He grinned. “Can’t have you dying on me yet. Simon still needs help.”

  Oh, how she wished he wouldn’t smile and push his hand through his hair like that. It made his T-shirt pull against his chest, made her think of all the wicked things she would like to do to that chest.

  She wiped a palm over her mouth as if she could pocket the encroaching smile. “Tell me about Simon. What’s he like?”

  “Simon? Well...I guess he’s a typical fifteen-year-old. He used to play baseball, but I don’t think that’s what he’s into anymore. He’s more of a video-games kind of kid. Computers and Facebook and stuff. He definitely didn’t get that from me.” He toyed with his nearly empty cup. “He’s very intelligent when he applies himself. Once, when he was eleven, he fixed the lawn mower all by himself....”

  Chris’s words blurred together as he waxed on about his brilliant son. Every word out of his mouth reinforced how much he’d grown, becoming a proud father with a house and a farm. A man with responsibilities, property, a family, a life.

  Inexplicably, she was a little disappointed. Where had the rebellious, intellectual, motorcycle-riding teen she’d known gone to? He used to rant about issues like how crass consumerism was destroying the environment, or how the North American obesity epidemic was a crime when children were starving in other parts of the world. He’d been one of the most intelligent and radical kids around, though he’d hidden it beneath his QB persona.

  “So, do you think you can help?” he asked when he’d finished extolling his son’s virtues.

  She tilted her chin, considering the money. It was more than she’d make mowing lawns, certainly. And it should keep her out of the diner. “All right, I’ll do it.”

  He slumped in his chair in relief. They discussed when she could meet Simon and when the best times to tutor would be. Chris handed her a business card, and she wrote her number down for him.

  His smile was wide as he took the card from her and clasped her hand. Warmth snaked up her arm and she stuffed down a dreamy sigh. “Thank you so much for agreeing to th
is. I’ll see you soon.”

  Oh, she definitely wouldn’t mind seeing more of him.

  * * *

  DANIEL LOGGED ON to his instant messenger, cracked his knuckles and waited. He double-checked to make sure the door was closed—he hated being interrupted during his personal time, and he’d been very clear to his family that after hours, when he was in his room, he was not to be disturbed.

  Not that they ever listened to him.

  It was hard enough to have a long-distance relationship; having one with a general practitioner who was always on call with her patients was like trying to chase the sun as it set over the horizon. Added to the fact that his parents were on him every minute of the day, it was no wonder he hadn’t told them about Selena until nearly a year after meeting her.

  The window blinked as Selena88 popped up with her greeting. Hey, honey bear, how was your day?

  Long, as usual, he replied. And longer than usual since Tiffany had come home, he admitted to himself. Lots of kids are signing up for summer driving lessons, but Dad wants me to spend more time at the diner. I don’t know what he expects. I already work there thirty-five hours a week.

  How’s your sister? Maybe she can fill in for you.

  Physically, she’s doing better, but she won’t go near the diner if she doesn’t have to. She hates it there. Besides which, he couldn’t imagine her doing him any favors. They’d never really gotten along, mainly because their parents had always encouraged sibling rivalry between them. He understood that his parents believed “friendly competition” would bring out the best in their children, but the constant comparisons had left a huge chip on Tiff’s shoulder. He knew being home was bringing old resentments back to the surface.

  You could hire someone. You should talk to your father about it. You work too hard.

  We’re not really a talking family. It was hard to explain his family dynamic to anyone on the outside. The Cheungs did not discuss feelings or personal problems; likewise, he did not question his father on matters about the diner. He did the books, sure, but his dad was the one who had final say in any expenditure. It drove him crazy that he wouldn’t spend money on anything, not even if it meant more business. But that was Tony. Tightfisted and immovable.

  Well, that’s a shame, Selena wrote. You’re too loyal.

  He wasn’t sure if she meant it as a compliment or a criticism. He decided to take it for the former. That’s me. Dutiful firstborn son. He added a smiley face.

  He switched topics. So, can you make it up for your vacation?

  Yes! I’ve got the time booked off and I’m arranging to have my partners take on any emergency calls. I’ll be all yours for two whole weeks. Yay!

  Daniel wanted to dance around the room, but settled with sending a string of emoticons. Huzzah!

  I miss you so much. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.

  Me, too.

  I think a lot about that one wild night when you came down at Christmas. Especially when I’m in the shower.

  He grinned. Since the first time they’d met face-to-face, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I can’t wait for a repeat.

  Though, if she was coming up to visit him in Everville, they were going to have to find a hotel in the next township. Poh-poh was around the house all the time, and while his parents would insist Selena stay with them to be good hosts, they’d probably give her Tiffany’s room, or make her share. He didn’t want to think about how Tiff would react to that.

  The next words that popped up on screen made all thoughts of his family fly away. I wish you were touching me right now.

  Daniel flushed hot even as his hands turned cold. He glanced at his door once more to make sure it was closed.

  Is your webcam working yet?

  He hesitated. She’d asked him this before, but he felt too exposed, knowing things would heat up fast if they got to see each other, play striptease, show each other what they were doing, what they wanted the other to do. As tech savvy as he was, he wasn’t entirely convinced those images couldn’t be intercepted or recorded and spread over the internet.

  Sorry, no, he wrote back. But I’m still thinking of you.

  Too bad. I bought the prettiest new bra today. It’s black satin with lace and a cute little pink bow. And it pushes my tits up really high.

  His cell phone buzzed. Selena had sent him a photo. With slightly shaky hands, he opened the file to see said new bra doing what bras did best.

  A loud knock shattered the lusty haze. “Ah-Day, you want some tong sui?” Poh-poh yelled through the door.

  “No, thank you,” he groaned, trying hard to keep the frustration out of his tone.

  “I’ll leave some for you on the table.”

  “I don’t need dessert,” he yelled, mood thoroughly killed.

  “What are you doing in there? Talking to your girlfriend?”

  He stared up at the ceiling, praying for patience. “I’m on the computer. I’ll come out later, thank you.”

  I’ve got more to show you as soon as your webcam is working, he read. I’ve been taking pole-dancing classes.

  I’ll get it working, he promised, mouth dry.

  Another loud knock on his door had him shooting out of his chair. Furious, he yanked the door open to find Tiffany, knuckles poised to knock again. “What do you want?”

  “I need to pick up a couple of books I saw on your shelf.” She pushed past him. Little sisters apparently did not grow out of invading personal space.

  He was about to toss her out, but then she stopped in front of his computer, the IM window still open on his screen and clearly readable. “Omigod, you do have a girlfriend,” she hooted. “Are you guys having cybersex?”

  Heat exploded on his face. “Get out.”

  “I hope you’re using virus protection. Though you should wait until you’re cybermarried before you jump into things,” she snickered. “Seriously, she’s for real?”

  “Yes, she’s real, her name is Selena and I’m trying to spend some quality time with her. Now, will you please respect my privacy?”

  “You’re expecting privacy in this house?” Tiff laughed, and dodged the bunched-up socks he whipped at her. “All right, all right, I’ll come back later.”

  He really needed to put a lock on his door. Unfortunately, it was an older door and the old lockless hardware had become one with the wood beneath the hardened layers of paint, so it’d be a huge job to replace the doorknob. His father didn’t like him putting holes in the wall or on the doors, either, so he couldn’t install a latch or dead bolt. On top of that, his grandmother would get suspicious of what he was up to behind locked doors and would end up pestering him twice as often.

  He really needed to move out.

  Hello? You there, honey bear? he read when he returned to his computer.

  Sorry. Stupid interruptions. Stupid little sister... : (

  Did you talk to her?

  She came in to get something.

  You should talk to her. She needs her big brother.

  Daniel sighed. He thought he was being a big brother by leaving his sister alone. She’d never reached out to him before.

  Damn, I’m getting paged. Sorry. We’ll continue this tomorrow night. If you’re good, I’ll show you the panties that match. ; )

  Daniel swore a blue streak and wrote back. Okay. Sorry for the interruptions.

  It’s all right. I know how much your family means to you.

  He wanted to deny it, but instead typed, Good night. xoxo

  Tiffany was standing outside his door when he opened it, and he glowered down at her. “Do you still have that copy of Shakespeare’s complete works?” she asked without preamble. “And any of the SparkNotes that go with the plays?”

  He stood firmly in his doorway. “Listen. When I’m in my room and the door is closed, it’s private time, okay?” He locked eyes with her. “I’ve made this clear to Mom and Dad and Poh-poh. I work with them all day, so I need this space for myself.”

/>   Her lips pursed and she nodded. “You’re right. Sorry I barged in like that. Old habits.”

  Daniel gestured for her to come in. “What do you need these for?” he asked as he pulled the books off his shelf.

  “Chris wants me to tutor his son in English.”

  “Ah.” He’d wondered why Chris wanted to talk to his sister. He’d never asked about her before. Tiffany was trying to sound blasé, but he knew she’d been crushing on Chris since her freshman year in high school. “Sorry again that I told him about your layoff,” he said.

  “I overreacted. I should be the one saying sorry.” She sat on the edge of his bed. Her fingers clutched the bedspread convulsively. “I hate that after all the work I put in, this is where I’m at. I was supposed to be an editor at a publishing house by now. But here I am, thirty-two and back living with my parents.”

  “Hey—” he jabbed his thumbs into his chest “—thirty-four, and it’s like I never left.”

  Her mouth tugged up at the corners. “Yeah, what’s with that? Can’t you afford to move out?”

  “Where would I go? To an apartment fifteen minutes away?” His defensiveness surprised him; others had asked this question, but coming from his sister, it sounded like an accusation. “If I live here, I can save for a down payment on a place of my own and never have to deal with rentals.”

  “And exactly when do you think you’ll save enough?” Tiff asked cynically. “Five, ten years from now? Do you think your girlfriend’s okay with that?”