One Foot in the Grave Page 10

Some of the iciness left her eyes. “I’m Molly. Nice to meet you. And I’m thankful to be here. I could really use the job.”

That made me feel better. Times were tough in Drum, and the fact that she needed a job meant she would likely put in the effort to keep it. “If you want to come to the back, I’ll show you where the lockers are and introduce you to Tiny and Sweetie Pie.”

She laughed. “Sweetie Pie?”

Grinning, I said, “Tiny, our short-order cook, gives all the cooks nicknames.” I nearly told her not to worry about getting to know Sweetie Pie that well since she probably wouldn’t be around much longer, but I didn’t want to scare her.

Ruth was shooting daggers in my direction as we walked to the back. I showed Molly the back room and where we kept the extra T-shirts. Then I told her she could pick any of the open mini lockers to store her things. After she went to the restroom to change, I took her to the entrance to the kitchen, making sure to tell her that Tiny didn’t like anyone in his kitchen during working hours and we weren’t supposed to cross the imaginary line at the threshold.

“Tiny,” I called out. “This is Molly. Max just hired her as a waitress.”

The large man glanced over his shoulder. “Well, I’ll be damned. So he actually did it.”

“Did what?” Molly asked me in an undertone.

“Hired another waitress,” I said. “There’s been some resistance.”

“From Ruth,” she said in a dry tone.

I hated to speak ill of my friend, so I said nothing. I struggled to understand Ruth’s attitude, but I knew she had trouble trusting people. Which meant she didn’t want anyone new coming in and messing with the status quo. Even if we were working ourselves ragged.

Although the thin woman next to him seemed too intent on the food on the grill to pay attention to us, Tiny turned around to face us. “Welcome, Molly. I’m sure Carly’s already filled you in about not comin’ into the kitchen. Other than that, I’m pretty easygoin’. Just put your tickets on the wheel, and we’ll take ’em down and put ’em with the plates when the order’s up. Put the dirty plates and such in the plastic bins outside the kitchen, and we’ll load ’em in the dishwasher.”

“Y’all don’t have bussers?” she asked with a confused look.

Hadn’t she been to Max’s Tavern before? There weren’t exactly a lot of restaurants or bars in the area. Maybe she’d been scared enough of Ruth to stay away.

“Oh, honey,” I said with a chuckle. “You must have experience at a fancy restaurant. We’re bare bones here. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. It only took me a few days.”

“Malarkey,” Tiny said, turning back to the grill. “It took you less than a night. On Monday Night Football, no less.”

Molly’s brow furrowed.

“Monday nights are big in the fall and early winter, thanks to Max’s big-screen TVs. Now it’s baseball and NASCAR. You got a favorite driver?”

“Who doesn’t?” she said as though I’d asked if she knew how to breathe. Then she rattled off the name of one of the drivers I’d heard some of the guys cheer for.

I grinned. I hadn’t known the first thing about NASCAR before coming to Drum, but Marco had filled me in, giving me a list of stats and helping me pick a favorite driver. He’d told me it would rake in tips, and he hadn’t steered me wrong.

“Who is he?” Molly asked with an ornery grin.

“What?” I asked, realizing I’d zoned out for a moment.

“The guy who put that dreamy look on your face. You were thinking about someone, weren’t you?”

“What?” I practically shouted. “I was not.”

She laughed. “That’s okay. Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out soon enough.” She pointed to her temple. “I’ve got really good radar for things like that.”

I stopped in my tracks. What on earth was she talking about? Marco and I were just friends. Close friends. When I wasn’t working double shifts all the time, we hung out at his place or at Hank’s. Or sometimes we went to Ewing to eat or see a movie at the two-screen cinema. A couple of times we’d headed to Greeneville to do some shopping and eat out. But we were only friends. Not once had Marco made the slightest suggestion that he was interested in anything more, and he’d made it very clear that he was a no-commitment kind of guy. And me…given my track record, I’d sworn off men. Which wasn’t hard to do when I was working six days a week.

But this wasn’t the time to think about my relationship with Marco. “Well, I hope you have a good radar for all these construction workers pouring into town. Especially since the jobsite’s been shut down by the sheriff and they’ve got nothing else to do except sit in here all day and drink.”

“Good for business, right?” she said with a smile.

“Yeah,” I said, surveying the half-full room. The regular dinner customers would be coming in soon. “When Lula’s here, we split the room into thirds, although Lula’s section is admittedly smaller and includes the bar. So that seems like the best place to start you, but I’ll check with Ruth first.” That was one conversation I wasn’t looking forward to.

“Wait,” Molly said, grabbing my arm before I could head over. “Aren’t I shadowing you tonight?”

I released a laugh. “No. My first night they tossed me into the deep end, sink or swim.” When I saw her look of terror, I said, “Trust me, it’s not that complicated. The menu’s pretty limited, and there’s always a special. Just write the order down on a ticket, hang the ticket on the wheel, pick up the food about five to ten minutes later, depending on how busy we are, then serve the customers. The drinks are the same—you just take the ticket to the bar and Max’ll fill ’em.”

My explanation didn’t erase the panic on her face, and I didn’t want her to quit before she even started. “Okay. How about we work both of our sections together for a bit until you get the hang of it. Then we’ll split up, okay?”

She nodded but looked only slightly relieved.

This was going to be a long night.

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

Molly was a quick learner, but Ruth was giving me the cold shoulder—likely for helping Molly—but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I let her watch me take a few orders, babysat her through a few orders, then set her on her own, letting her handle the bar and a couple of tables.

We were well into the dinner shift when a family walked in with three kids. I was about to send them to Ruth’s section, but the little boy ran up to me and stared up at me with large brown eyes. “Are you the lady who’s good at math?”

It took me a second to figure out what he meant. “Oh. Are you friends with Zelda?”

The mother gave me an apologetic look. “I’m Annette. Annette Searcy. I heard you helped a girl in Eric’s class and her parents understand how to do yesterday’s math problems.” She gave me a helpless look. “I really don’t understand it.” Then she quickly added, “Don’t worry. We’re here for dinner too.”

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