Joe's Diner

by Gail Sattler

  She raised her hand and held up her first three fingers, giving him the “scout’s honor” sign. “No speeding. I promise,” she said as she walked toward the car.

  She waved to Mark, then drove toward the exit, hoping and praying she had enough money in her wallet to cover the cost of the extended time the car spent in the lot. Fortunately, she had a quarter to spare after the fee was paid, saving her the embarrassment of having to ask Mark, who was behind her in the short lineup, for money. She was almost afraid to look at the gas gauge; but to her relief, it read half full.

  Chantelle took advantage of the half-hour journey to think of the days ahead.

  She didn’t know what Uncle Joe expected of her. She’d been a disaster in the kitchen, of that there had been no doubt. Her waitressing skills were questionable, but adequate, although she would do better if the restaurant used plastic tableware.

  Hosting was probably the task for which she was most suited. Dealing cheerfully with people was what she did best. However, since the diner was a small family restaurant, the job involved more than simply chatting with people, showing them to their table, and handing out menus.

  The promise she made in the airport washroom echoed through her head. She could never have foreseen that Uncle Joe would need her to step into his shoes and run the diner. Her hands shook on the steering wheel as she contemplated the magnitude of her promise. She hadn’t had time to think about it or pray before accepting her new responsibilities. They had been cast upon her without warning or preparation.

  She had learned in Sunday school that God didn’t give a person more than they could handle. She wouldn’t have thought she could do it, but God must have thought her capable of rising to the challenge. Since she’d actually spent some time serving, she thought she could manage the front operations. She didn’t foresee any problems in doing the payroll or banking, as those were extensions of office procedures she’d done in other jobs. Nor did she see that she would have any difficulty in working the cash register and processing the credit card transactions.

  As to the kitchen, after her one day of disasters, all she could do was trust that Kevin could help, because she was well beyond her capabilities there. For the next two days, she would take advantage of Mark’s presence. Then she would pray really hard until Uncle Joe and Jack could return or at least provide a little assistance and advice.

  Her fears and misgivings about the situation didn’t matter. Before she frightened herself into failure, she told herself that she would take her new responsibilities one day at a time. One hour at a time, if need be.

  She didn’t have to worry about the food order until Wednes-day. For the next two days, Mark would be spreading his time between fixing up the information in the computer and helping Kevin to learn to manage the kitchen. He wasn’t leaving until Tuesday night. Tomorrow was Monday, and Monday had enough worries of its own.

  Taking things one step at a time, the second step of tonight’s task was now over. She pulled into Uncle Joe’s driveway, waited for the garage door to go up, and then drove inside to park the car for the night.

  Once she had the car parked in the correct position, she hit the button to close the garage, slammed the car door shut, and ran as fast as she could, ducking under the garage door as it closed. Not being as fast as she had hoped, she scraped her back a little bit on her way out; but she did make it without the door flattening her to the ground, which she thought quite an accomplishment.

  Mark quickly appeared beside her. “Are you all right? What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

  Chantelle grinned from ear to ear. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid. Believe it or not, I was shorter then. I didn’t want to set the alarm off, so I couldn’t go through the house because I don’t know the code. This was the only way to get out, the way I came.”

  “You could have taken the remote control into the driveway and closed it from outside without having to play Russian roulette with the door crashing down on you.”

  “It didn’t crash down on me. It just nudged me a little bit. I couldn’t take the remote out of the car. If I did, what would I do with it? Take it home? What if Aunt Ellen wanted to go somewhere? She wouldn’t be able to close the garage. Aunt Ellen can’t hit the switch and run through the garage and beat the door like I can.”

  Mark craned his neck to check behind her. He brushed something on the back of her blouse with his fingertips, then wiped his fingers on his pants. “The jury is still out as to whether or not you beat the door, but I don’t want to argue with you. Let’s go. Next stop, your place. You’ll definitely have to give me directions.” Mark stifled a yawn. “How long is it going to take to get there?”

  “About half an hour. And then it’s going to take you about three-quarters of an hour to get back to your parents’ house.”

  Mark groaned. “Let’s not stand here, then.”

  On their way once again, Chantelle gave Mark general directions as he made his way to the main road.

  While he drove, she told him that she’d been thinking about what the next few days would bring; and now that she had some time to think properly, she wasn’t so nervous. He seemed happy to hear that she thought, with Kevin’s help, the two of them would be able to keep the supplies at optimum levels for the coming weeks.

  The farther they went, the less Mark spoke. They still had about fifteen minutes’ worth of driving to do, when Mark stifled another yawn.

  “I’m so sorry, Mark. I should have waited and let your mom make us coffee. I forgot that your body clock still says that it’s two hours later. It’s been such a horrible day. You’ve also done so much work this weekend. You must be exhausted.”

  This time, he couldn’t stifle his yawn. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Sorry. We’re almost there.”

  Rather than yap his ear off, Chantelle turned up the volume on the CD player, which fortunately was playing a rousing praise chorus. When Mark didn’t respond to the encouraging words, she told herself that he was simply too tired to enjoy the song properly.

  “Here we are. It’s that duplex over there with the red mailbox. I’m on the left.”

  He simply nodded and pulled into the driveway. “Good night, Chantelle.”

  “I know you don’t want to be reminded, but you look so tired. It’s no trouble at all for me to make a small pot of coffee and give you one for the road.”

  He raised his arms over his head and stretched. “You know, I think I’ll take you up on that. Besides, I think it will do me some good to stretch my legs. I feel like I’ve been driving for hours.”

  “You have been driving for hours.”

  “You’re just so full of encouraging reminders tonight, aren’t you?”

  She couldn’t tell if he was kidding, so she let his comment go without responding.

  He followed her into the kitchen, but instead of sitting at the table, he remained standing while she put the coffee on. It was just as well. He was less likely to fall asleep on his feet than if he were sitting down. If it were possible, he looked even more tired than when he first arrived on Friday. Her heart went out to him, knowing that for at least a few days, things wouldn’t get much better. At least when he went home on Tuesday night, he would be able to catch up on his sleep once he got back to his normal routine.

  “Remember, I’ll be picking you up about six. I’m sorry if that makes you get up earlier than if you were driving yourself.”

  “Only fifteen minutes. Which reminds me. With the time change, five-thirty a.m. is too late for me to phone my boss and tell him I won’t be in. I’m usually there at seven, which is five here. I won’t even be awake by then. I know it’s almost midnight at home, but I had better phone now instead of waiting until morning. Sean’s got to go in to work early to open the office door for the rest of the staff.”

  He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, pushed the button, and waited for it to be ready to dial.

  “You’re going t
o call your boss from your cell phone? What about the roaming charges?”

  His brows knotted as he watched the phone. “The bill won’t be a big deal, but it looks like I forgot to charge my battery before I left home. I won’t have enough power to complete the call. Do you mind if I use your phone?”

  Chantelle didn’t want to think of the additional longdistance charges on her phone bill. However, she reminded herself that she now had a real job and could actually pay the phone bill on time. If Mark cut his call short, the longdistance charges wouldn’t be much more than the late fee she would have paid anyway. “I don’t mind. Make your call.”

  Seven

  Mark recalled Sean’s home number from the memory on his cell phone, barely managing to jot it down before the display window went blank.

  “Good timing,” he muttered.

  He dialed the number, hoping Sean hadn’t gone to bed yet. Being nearly ten at night was bad enough for Mark after a long day; but for Sean, it was nearly midnight.

  At the second ring, Mark’s stomach started to churn.

  Sean answered on the third ring.

  “Hi, Sean. It’s Mark. I won’t be in to work tomorrow. Actually, I won’t be in Tuesday, either. I’ll probably be back Wednesday; but at this point, I’m not sure.”

  “What’s the matter? Are you sick? You sound okay.”

  “I’m calling from the coast, actually. I left Friday night and I’ve been here ever since. I’m in the middle of a family emergency, and I need to stay for a few days.”

  “You left Friday? What about the Kowalski contract? And Shaben’s?”

  Instead of feeling guilty, Mark found himself starting to bristle. If his boss had been at the office Friday, working instead of out playing golf, then Sean would have noticed that Mark left early. If he was so inclined, Sean could also have pitched in to help meet the deadlines he’d promised unreasonably instead of expecting Mark to come in and work all weekend. “Darren is more than capable of handling those jobs Monday morning,” he said, extending his levels of patience in order to sound polite.

  “Those jobs aren’t Darren’s. They’re yours.”

  The difference between himself and Darren doing the same work was that when done after hours or on the weekend, they would have to pay Darren overtime wages, and Mark was expected to do it as part of his salary. “I’m being honest with you, Sean. If I had called in sick, you would have thought nothing of giving those files to Darren. I’ve also got a couple of students coming in from the career college tomorrow morning. They’ll help ease the workload in exchange for minimal job experience and training.”

  “You shouldn’t be taking this time off. We need you here. Can’t you get an earlier flight?”

  Mark noticed the little part about “family emergency” went right over Sean’s head. On purpose, no doubt. As far as the family was concerned, not only did his uncle Jack need him more than ever, now so did Joe. “I probably could, but I’m not going to. I’m quite entitled to take some time off.”

  “We have someone off on holidays every week for the next three months. We need you here.”

  Aside from the volume of files on his desk, which over the last six months hadn’t been any different from any other day, nothing was particularly critical. Everything on his desk had only the usual client deadlines.

  “That doesn’t matter, as long as I’m not off at the same time as Darren. In fact, as senior supervisor, I should have taken my vacation first. Let me remind you that I’m entitled to take the whole week off if I want to. I’m entitled to three weeks this year, and I don’t see a good reason why I can’t take all of them right now.”

  “You can’t have three weeks off. Right now, I can’t give you one week. I want you back at work Tuesday morning unless someone has passed away.”

  Something snapped in Mark’s brain. Joe had nearly died at the airport. Even though the doctor called his progress “promising,” Joe had far from a clean bill of health. While Uncle Jack would definitely recover, he was far from able to resume work. He was still on such heavy painkillers that he couldn’t form two coherent sentences in a row. Mark had hoped to stay at least until both his uncle and Joe were released from the hospital.

  “No one has ‘passed away’,” Mark spat out. “But I’m still staying. In fact, I changed my mind about when I’ll be back. I’m taking a whole week.”

  Sean’s voice dropped to a low growl. “You can’t do that. I’m warning you. I’ll give you the two days, but that’s it.”

  Since Mark hadn’t preauthorized any vacation time, he knew Sean didn’t have to give it to him. However, nothing on his desk specifically needed his personal attention to the exclusion of any other staff member. With a little help from Darren, the two students surely would be able to accomplish what Mark could alone, in an eight-hour day.

  The only thing Mark felt was the stab of intimidation rather than the necessity of keeping his clients’ files current. The issue was no longer the work that needed to be done.

  The issue had become control. Suddenly, Mark saw himself being used as a pawn in a game where he wasn’t allowed to know the rules. Over the years, he had found himself so buried in one problem after another, he hadn’t seen what was happening around him. Now, from a distance, his perspective had changed. He could see the situation as it really was.

  “You know, Sean, come to think of it, I haven’t taken a vacation for the last two years, so there’s another four weeks you owe me, besides this year’s three weeks.”

  “We’re really too busy for you to have time off. You won’t be able to make it back for morning, so I want you back Tuesday. Take your vacation another time.”

  “This isn’t about a vacation in the tropics. I said it was a family emergency.”

  “Tuesday, Mark.”

  Mark stiffened from head to toe, suddenly feeling conviction unlike anything else he’d ever experienced in his life. Sean had done whatever he could, including empty promises and deceit, even lies, to have Mark do what he wanted, regardless of what Mark was entitled to and regardless of the strain on Mark’s personal life or his health, working unreasonably long hours, seven days a week, to say nothing of the on-the-job stress. All for his own gain. Business was business, but Sean had long ago crossed the line.

  “I want what you’ve promised, and now is the time I’m calling you on it. Starting tomorrow, I’m taking my seven weeks of paid vacation. I also seem to recall you promising me equivalent time off for all the weekends I’ve worked. I could tally up all those weekends if you want me to. In writing. Plus, in four years, I’ve only taken two sick days, which means you either have to give me twenty-two days off or the equivalent pay. I think that’s got to add up to, oh. . .” He let his voice trail off as he calculated an approximate total. “Four and a half months, just guessing on the weekends, of course.”

  “Four months!” At Sean’s shouting, Mark held the phone away from his ear and winced.

  Mark cleared his throat. “Four and a half months,” he said, emphasizing the “half.” “But it’s probably more. That’s just an estimate. I think I’ll take five.” He left the next question unsaid, but definitely hanging. So what are you going to do about it?

  “I have to take that to the board.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re senior partner. I report directly to you and to you alone.”

  A long pause hung over the line. Mark’s stomach tied in knots. He waited for Sean’s next words, which would either be a demand of a specific date to return—attached to an “or else”—or simply a blunt “you’re fired.”

  “I hope whatever it is you’re doing is worth it.”

  The bang of Sean slamming the phone down in his ear ended the phone call, making Mark flinch. Numbly, he listened to the even buzz of the dial tone, still not entirely believing what had just transpired.

  In slow motion, he replaced the handset to the receiver and turned around. Chantelle stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway, her e
yes as wide as they could go, her splayed fingers covering her wide-open mouth.

  “I think he just hung up on me,” he mumbled, his boss’s last words replaying in his mind like an endless loop tape.

  “Oh, Mark. . . ,” Chantelle mumbled between her fingers. “What have you done?”

  Mark grinned weakly. “I’m not really sure.”

  In the blink of an eye, Chantelle stood in front of him. Before he could figure out what she was doing, she reached forward, wrapped her fingers around his, and looked up at him. Her big blue eyes filled with such sadness, he wondered if she were going to cry. “I’m so sorry, Mark. I feel like this is my fault. If Uncle Joe thought I could take care of things, he wouldn’t have asked you to stay for a few days, and you wouldn’t have lost your job.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, but she only held on tighter at his movement. “Technically, Sean didn’t actually say I was fired. Regardless, I’m not going to let him intimidate me anymore. Please, don’t think any of this was your fault. The decision to stay longer was my own. I’m not going anywhere until both Joe and Uncle Jack are ready to go back to work.”

  She gave his fingers a little squeeze, then let his hands go. Mark expected her to back up, but instead she stepped forward. Suddenly, her hands wormed between his arms and his waist. She flung herself toward him, wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him tight. “That’s so sweet,” she mumbled, with her face pressed against his chest.

  Mark stood stiff, his arms slightly raised behind her back, not knowing what to do. He hadn’t given up his job because he was being “sweet.” He did it because Joe and Uncle Jack needed him.

  He waited for her to back up, but she didn’t. She remained pressed against him, giving him no sign that she intended to release him anytime soon.

  Cautiously, Mark lowered his arms until his palms brushed against her back. At his touch, instead of shying away or backing up, she snuggled into him even more and squeezed him tighter, encouraging him not only to relax, but to hug her back. So he did.