by Gail Sattler
He could almost draw a parallel between the wild disorganization of her hair and the work habits he’d seen thus far.
He’d seen her dealing with people, both those she knew and those whom she didn’t. It was in her job to be cheerful to the clientele; but when she laughed, he could hear her clear across the room. Often, when she was en route to the kitchen, he heard her before he saw her. In response, people were already smiling by the time she arrived.
Her constant cheerfulness would be the only thing that could save her. If she could keep it up. He suspected she had no idea what she was in for in the days and weeks to come.
Mark tucked Chantelle’s keys into his pocket. He repeated a few times in his head that if Joe trusted her, he had to trust her, too.
“I guess I can find a map or get directions to the wholesaler’s warehouse. I’m going to assume Uncle Jack and Joe have an account and I won’t have to write a check, because I don’t even know where they keep the checks yet.” He smacked his palm to his forehead and ran his hand down his face. “Even if we did have checks, they’re no good to us. Neither of us has signing authority.”
“I’ll phone the bank and ask what we can do. I don’t know if I want to think of what other problems we’re going to face in the next few days, do I?”
Mark looked down at her. “Before we do anything, we have to talk about what we’re going to say to the rest of the staff.” He checked his watch. “I think we have seven minutes before someone walks in the door.”
She nodded, making her hair bounce. “Yes. And there’s something else we should be doing, too.”
“What?”
“We have to pray.”
Mark’s chest tightened. After all that had happened in the last few days, Mark had nothing further he wanted to say to God.
Eight
Chantelle checked her watch and glanced at the door. “Come on, Mark. We don’t have much time. I don’t want to rush this.”
She waited for him to say something, but Mark failed to show the instant decisiveness Chantelle had come to expect from him.
His hesitation made her wonder if she’d hurt him with her initial reaction before accepting his offer of partnership in running the diner. It was true, he’d caught her by surprise; but the more she thought about it, the more she knew it was a good idea—it was the only way the diner was going to survive, never mind thrive.
In fact, she was getting so excited about having someone with actual experience, to say nothing of a professional business executive pitching in, it was all she could do not to run up and hug him.
That, though, would be a mistake.
She learned the hard way that Mark was not a hugger. After what felt like an eternity of hugging him when he wasn’t hugging her back, she’d almost figured out a way to back up and run away with the least amount of embarrassment. Then, to her shock, he actually did hug her back, and with not just a polite, token hug. He’d hugged her back in full measure, making her think that they’d really connected—that he knew without asking that she thought he’d done the right thing.
But, apparently, that wasn’t what he thought. Just as she was getting comfortable, maybe even a little too comfortable in his arms, he kissed her. It was only the top of her head, but immediately she knew that she had given him the wrong idea.
Chantelle may have been an eager hugger, but she was not an eager kisser. She only kissed a man when she meant it. She didn’t know Mark well enough to mean anything except business. She reminded herself once again that, even if she did decide she liked him, nothing could ever happen between them. When their uncles returned to work, Mark was going home.
He may have been the “love ’em and leave ’em” type, but Chantelle would never be. She had been on the receiving end of that kind of relationship once, and it was once too often. After living through such an awful experience, she would never do that to anyone else.
She didn’t know Mark all that well, but the idea that he could be such a casual Romeo disappointed her. Still, they were going to be working together for a long time, and in that time, she could certainly be friends. At the very least, she could be his Christian sister.
“Mark? Come on. Everyone will be here soon.”
“Then we can pray another time,” he finally muttered. “It’s more important to agree on what we’re going to tell the staff.”
“I think it’s more important to pray. Everyone will understand when it takes awhile for things to fall into place. We need guidance more than anything, I think.”
“Guidance,” he muttered. “Right.”
Chantelle cocked her head and studied Mark. As a fellow Christian, she would have thought Mark would agree. However, now that she thought about it, when they’d shared their lunch break on Saturday, when it was time to say a blessing over their meal, he had let her lead in prayer. For the second time in only a few days, Mark didn’t want to pray with her. Now she wondered if maybe something wasn’t as it should have been. Traditionally, men automatically led with prayers, yet he hadn’t.
She rested her hand on his forearm. “Is something wrong?”
He jerked his arm away as fast as if she had burned him with her touch. “Nothing is wrong. I just think we should get right to work. We have a lot to sort out and a lot to do.”
“Which is why our first priority should be to pray about it. With God’s guidance, everything will fall into place.”
“Fall into place? You mean just like over the last few days? Uncle Jack’s accident? Joe’s heart attack? And me not knowing if I have a job to go back to? Life can’t possibly fall more into place than that.”
“You don’t have to be so sarcastic.”
“I’m not being sarcastic. I’m being realistic.”
She wondered what had happened to Mark to make him so bitter, but this wasn’t the time to ask. However, she couldn’t not pray about something so important. Since Mark wasn’t going to participate willingly, he left her no choice.
Once again, Chantelle reached out to touch Mark. This time, instead of just brushing his arm with her fingertips, she grabbed onto his sleeve and bowed her head quickly, trusting he wouldn’t be rude and pull away when she had her eyes closed.
“Dear Lord, I ask that You watch over us and guide us today. Please help things go smoothly, and help us learn everything we need to know with the least amount of difficulty. Please put everyone’s hearts at ease, and help us keep the business successful. I ask this in Jesus’ name.”
Chantelle paused, waiting for Mark to say something, but he remained silent. Very cautiously, she opened one eye just a little bit, just enough to look at Mark. He hadn’t pulled away, but his eyes were closed and his brows were knotted as if he were deep in thought and at least following along with her spoken prayer. Even if he weren’t speaking, Chantelle thought he was praying something, which made her feel better, but not great, about their supposed joint prayer for the diner and all that went with their temporary partnership.
Since they were still supposed to be praying, Chantelle said a silent prayer for Mark, that he could be healed of whatever was bothering him and that they could move forward with what they needed to do.
“Amen!” she finally chorused and released him.
“Amen,” Mark mumbled.
Chantelle released his sleeve and walked to the counter leading into the kitchen. “I’m going to make coffee so we’ll have a pot ready for when we open. What do you have to do first?”
Mark immediately jogged into the kitchen. “If nothing has changed in the last few years, then I should be baking muffins. There should be some batter already made in the refrigerator.”
Going up on her tiptoes, Chantelle leaned over the counter and peeked as far as she could into the kitchen area. Mark opened the door to the walk-in refrigerator and disappeared inside. He was out of sight for exactly twenty seconds, then reappeared with a large plastic food-keeper.
“Apparently nothing has changed. It was in the first place I lo
oked.”
Without another word, he flipped on the oven to the right temperature and poured the batter into muffin tins.
The front door opened. Brittany walked in, waved a quick greeting to Chantelle, and headed down the stairs to the staff room. Brittany was barely out of sight when Kevin and Evelyn entered, also heading straight down the stairs. Mark nodded at Chantelle and followed them down, with Chantelle close behind.
As soon as Brittany, Kevin, and Evelyn saw Mark and Chantelle in the staff room, their eyebrows rose. Kevin very pointedly peered out the door, no doubt wondering why everyone had gathered in the small room and if Joe were also coming.
Mark cleared his throat and raised one palm in the air. “I’ll get right to the point. Joe had a heart attack yesterday, and he’s in the hospital.” He paused during the collective gasp. “The prognosis so far looks good, but it’s going to be awhile before he’s back to normal and back to work. The same with my uncle Jack. Until they’re back, Chantelle and I are going to oversee the diner. We want to assure you that it’s business as usual until then.” Mark paused to let what he said sink in.
Kevin was the first to respond. “What about your job? I thought you were supposed to be going back Sunday night.”
“I’m staying until they come back to work.” Mark looked past them as he spoke.
All three of them turned their heads toward Chantelle, waiting for her to confirm or deny everything Mark had said. She thought Mark had chosen his words well. Although it didn’t feel very promising that he would be returning, neither of them really knew the status of Mark’s job. Still, his boss hadn’t actually said Mark was fired, so Chantelle couldn’t help but hope that Mark’s boss would consider holding the job for his return. She made a mental note to add that request, one of many things, to her rapidly growing prayer list.
“That’s right. Brittany, you and I are going to take turns hostessing. I’ll have to try and get the part-timers to fill in.”
“Can we go to the hospital to see him? I guess he’s not sharing a room with Jack.”
“They’re still only allowing immediate family as visitors for both of them.”
Evelyn held her hands out. “I think we should all pray for Joe. Right now. Before anyone comes in.”
Everyone murmured their agreement and shuffled into a circle. Chantelle noticed that Mark hesitated, but he did move with the others. However, a momentary flicker of panic crossed his face when Kevin on one side of him and Brittany on the other automatically reached over to hold his hands to complete the circle.
This time, since they were in the presence of others, and suspecting that Mark would not be quick to lead in a group prayer, Chantelle spoke out, asking for healing for both Uncle Joe and Jack. She didn’t have time to continue to ask for the smooth operation of the diner while they were in the transition stage because the electronic beep sounded, announcing the first customers of the day had walked in.
Everyone muttered a quick “Amen,” and the circle broke up.
“Okay, everybody!” Chantelle called out as cheerfully as she could. “Let’s show the world what the employees at Joe’s Diner are made of. Brittany, I think I’ll take the first hosting so I can get used to it while it’s quiet. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all.”
Mark disappeared into the office with his laptop, and the three current staff members rushed off to their stations. Chantelle hurried to greet a group of men who looked and smelled like they’d been out camping and fishing all weekend. She seated them in one of the booths, where the vinyl seats could be easily wiped off, versus the padded fabric chairs, which would be difficult to wash.
Immediately following them, a group of businessmen entered. Brittany whispered in her ear that the same group came in every Monday and ordered the same thing—a nice healthy breakfast of fruit and muffins. Knowing Mark had already started baking the muffins, Chantelle felt relieved. She took care to seat the businessmen on the far side of the restaurant from the fishermen.
She had barely seated that group, when another large group of men entered. This group wore jeans, coveralls, and heavy, well-worn safety boots. She had seen this same group before, on Friday. Apparently, they came in two or three times a week, always ordering large, hungry-man bacon-and-egg breakfasts to get them started for a day of hard work outside.
Just like Friday, a steady stream of people kept everyone fairly busy. To streamline the operation, Chantelle seated all the customers and Brittany took all the orders. Together, they delivered all the food and checked up on the patrons.
Halfway through the morning, Mark took Chantelle aside. He glanced toward all the people who were enjoying their breakfasts, then back to Chantelle. “Everyone looks happy, and I haven’t heard anything break so far. How’s it going?”
Chantelle grinned. “Really well. Usually Uncle Joe does everything at the front and two servers are on duty, but lunchtime will be busier. Can you come up here and host for the heavy part of the lunch rush?”
“Sorry, but I have to leave for the airport. They called and said they located my luggage. We really need all of those records, and I could use my suitcase, too. I also have to go to the wholesaler right away because we’re nearly out of a few things we need for the supper period. Kevin and I did our best to calculate what we’re going to go through as to volume between now and Thursday without a database. Hopefully, I shouldn’t have to make a second trip later in the week.”
Chantelle forced herself to smile. She had only been a server for two days. Friday had been hectic even with Uncle Joe there. Today, she started to sag. She had been on her feet from the minute they walked in the door. The stress of learning the general operation of the restaurant without guidance or supervision, added to the lack of sleep the night before, left her feeling like a wrung-out dishrag.
All the enthusiasm she’d built as a reserve in preparation for the lunch rush dissolved in a puddle around her already aching feet. She had to force herself to smile. “That’s good news.”
Mark didn’t smile back. “That’s the only good news. I don’t have a signature on file at the wholesaler, nor do they know who I am. I don’t have a signed purchase order or a letter from Uncle Jack or Joe. That means, according to their policy, they don’t recognize me as an authorized representative for the diner. They won’t give me anything on credit. Being Monday morning, there’s not enough money in the till to cover what we need, so I have to put the restaurant’s order on my personal credit card. In fact, he told me that he’s giving me special consideration to let me buy anything there at all, because I can’t prove I work for the diner. A pay stub would have done it, but I don’t have even that. According to regulations, they shouldn’t let me buy anything at wholesale prices. He almost made me pay full retail.”
Chantelle pressed both hands to her cheeks. “That’s awful! What are we going to do? I don’t think it would be good for either Uncle Joe or Jack if we started bringing in business problems already.”
Mark narrowed one eye and rubbed his chin between his thumb and index finger. “I wonder if Aunt Susan or Ellen has a signature on file with the wholesaler. Neither of them work for the restaurant now, but maybe one of them did when they first started the business. I’ll see what I can do to find either of them.”
“Yes. You should go now. Hopefully, you’ll be back in time for the change in shift. Rick and Sandra don’t know what’s happened yet.”
Mark frowned and checked his watch. “I’ll try. If I’m late, you’ll do fine.”
Without waiting for her to comment further, Mark disappeared out the front door, her keys in one hand and a long list in the other.
Chantelle didn’t believe he didn’t care if he were present when the next two staff members arrived. Rather, she suspected that he didn’t want to be present because two more people whom he knew were their uncles’ friends from church would probably want to pray for them.
Chantelle walked to the window to watch her car leave
the parking lot. She didn’t know what Mark’s problem was, but she promised herself she would get to the bottom of it.
❧
A chorusing “amen!” echoed from the staff room while Mark made his way to the freezer laden with the first of many heavy boxes. Part of him felt sorry he’d missed being able to properly introduce himself to those he hadn’t met yet. Another part of him felt relief that he arrived when he did. He no longer had to worry about getting stuck having to pray.
He almost stumbled at the direction of his thoughts. He knew Chantelle had figured out that he was avoiding praying, not only with people, but also privately. He didn’t know how to explain to her that he didn’t believe God listened to his prayers. Worse than that, everything he prayed for went even more wrong than when he didn’t pray. He’d begun to wonder what God had against him.
For the first time in a long time, he’d broken down, and out of weakness, he’d prayed on the plane. He didn’t know why he thought things might turn out better this time, because they hadn’t. Everything his life touched became even worse, down to Joe’s heart attack.
Now, not only did Mark not want to pray, he was afraid to.
As he propped the freezer door open with his foot, everyone hustled out of the staff room and upstairs, ready to begin the diner’s next shift, leaving him completely alone in the basement. He quickly pushed the boxes of frozen meat inside the freezer and onto the proper shelves, then made his way to the stairs for the next trip.
Halfway up the stairs, he met Kevin on his way down.
Instead of moving aside, Kevin stopped, dead center. “I didn’t know you were back. Want a little help putting all that stuff away?”
Mark opened his mouth to accept his offer, then hesitated. Kevin had finished his shift. Joe had been very specific about staff not working overtime. Mark recognized that Joe didn’t want to incur too much extra expense. Even without paying overtime wages, the cost of the two extra salaries for himself and Chantelle, even at regular time, to replace both him and Jack would be costly. Joe also didn’t want anyone to become overworked and overtired.