Pickled

by Deany Ray

  My mind wandered back to Alex. I just had to share my news. “I have a dinner date with Alex.” I poured syrup on my flapjacks.

  Marge’s squeal caused heads to turn. “Oh, this is so much fun! When, when?”

  I thought about that. “Actually, I have no idea. He suggested I buy him dinner. But he left before we could make something out.”

  “Hmm,” Celeste said. “You better stay on your game, girl.”

  “I have no idea how, but I’ll try,” I said.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll help you,” Marge giggled.

  “What about you?” I asked. “When’s your first date with the fry cook?”

  “Saturday night,” she said with a proud smile on her face. “I went up and asked him out while you were busy outside, scoring a date with Alex and rescuing our bear.”

  “Wow.” I said. “So, you just asked him out?”

  She shrugged. “You should go for what you want. And what I wanted was a fry cook with a cute behind.” She pointed her spoon at me. “Remember that next time, Charlie. If you want something bad enough, just go out and get it.”

  Hmm. It sounded simple. I wished I was that brave. At least the woozy, injured Charlie had a kind of bravery. She’d reached out to touch a guy’s face in a suggestive way and declared she loved him right there at a crime scene. But the real Charlie? She was a wuss.

  “Good for you,” I said to Marge.

  “Charlie!” My dad hurried to the table and caught me in a hug.

  I winced, unable to tell him I was sore from being kidnapped and tied up.

  “How’s your new place?” he asked.

  “It needs decorating. And I could do without the archers right outside the window. But I think I’ll like it there.”

  “Well, we all miss you at the house.” He looked around the table. “And it’s good to see my favorite waitresses. Once you work at Jack’s, you know you’re always family.”

  “This is our favorite place,” Marge said. “Best pie in all the world.”

  “How are Mom and Brad? “I asked. “Did Brad ever find out if he won? You know, the Employee of the Month?”

  My dad slid into the booth beside me. “Well, it’s a funny thing. One of his colleagues wanted to win the thing about as much as Brad. They’re both big Celtics fans. Brad thought he was about to lose. And your brother wasn’t happy. They’ve both been pulling double shifts. But right before the grand finale, your brother pulled ahead.”

  “He won? That’s great,” Marge said.

  “Yeah. The colleague came in as usual, drank his coffee like he always did, and promptly got…” My father looked around the diner, then he whispered the last word of the sentence. “He got diarrhea. And I guess we’ve all been so unfortunate as to know what that is like. The guy couldn’t do his last shift. Too many interruptions.”

  “That’s just so sad,” Marge said.

  And also, quite suspicious. I wondered if Brad had anything to do with it. He could be sneaky, when he wanted something bad.

  “How’s the job?” my father asked. “I have to thank you ladies for bringing my girl back home to Springston.”

  “It’s exhausting,” Marge said. “But we’re doing very well. Yesterday was brutal.” She touched her arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so sore.”

  “Yeah. We sure got knocked around.” I said.

  Celeste kicked us both beneath the table.

  My father looked confused. “Huh. Technological consulting must be a lot more physical than I ever thought. But what does this old man know? I can turn my computer on and off. And everything else confuses me almost every single time.” He smiled. “But it sounds like you three girls do a real fine job.”

  Celeste smiled at me across the table. “I think we’re the best in town.”

  ***

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