The Christmas Secret Read online

Jason moved past Marshall and filled a cup with black coffee. “Okay. I’ll take the test again and know everyone’s name.”

  Marshall pushed the last bite of cookie into his mouth and stepped toward his office. Jason hadn’t understood a word he said; he knew that. “I need you to work on finding Christy today,” he said, closing his office door.

  Jason growled, grabbing his coat. He figured he should find Christy as soon as possible so Marshall would leave him alone and he could get on with his life. He pulled up the zipper and opened the door leading into the store. “Bill and Hutch!” he yelled toward Marshall’s office. Marshall laughed as the door slammed shut.

  Thankfully, Zach and Haley got on the school bus as I got in the car for my first day at work. Their final day of school was on the eighteenth and I was already stressed about finding a sitter for the two-week Christmas break. Although she had failed me more than once, I called and left a message for Allie to see if she could watch them anytime during the break. I left a message for Mira as well, thinking that maybe I could piecemeal together a group of sitters. I hung up the phone as I pulled into the parking lot behind Betty’s.

  The computerized ordering system was different from Patterson’s and I felt dull and inadequate as I made one mistake after another, running to the kitchen to correct my botched orders. “It just takes a few times,” Karen said, showing me again how to void an order. She was a petite yet stout woman with short-cropped raven black hair and a small sparkly nose stud. On warmer days her husband drove her to work on the back of his Harley-Davidson. Cliff had a surly beard, a gut out to here, and a laugh that could dismantle a truck engine. He liked to pat her butt as she climbed off the back of his bike and she’d plant a kiss on lips lost somewhere in the middle of his whiskers. “When your order’s up the guys in the back will yell your name,” Karen said. I looked at her: I was used to scrambling to a kitchen to check on orders. “Betty started that years ago when it was just her and a couple of employees. It’s actually a lot better than running back to the kitchen every couple of minutes. It’s become part of the vibe here over the years.”

  Karen helped me input an order for a family of four. A husband and wife sat at a table with their two small children and I watched the father play tic-tac-toe on a napkin with his young son. Every time I saw a family like that my heart hurt. “We still need milk for her,” the woman said, pointing to her toddler daughter.

  “I forgot. I’m sorry,” I said, rushing to the waitress station. I filled a Styrofoam cup and put a lid on it. “There you go,” I said, setting it down in front of the girl. “Sorry,” I said to her parents.

  “We come in here once a week,” the mother said. “So we know you’re new.” She cut her daughter’s French toast. “You won’t remember our names yet but I’m Julie. This is Clayton and these two belong to us: Ava and Adam.” She looked up at me and smiled. “Don’t let the jerks get you down.”

  A man at a table with six other men lifted his coffee cup and I headed toward them. “Those are the mechanics from City Auto Service,” Karen said, handing me a fresh pot of coffee. “Jack Andrews and that crew have been coming in here for years so you’ll see them a lot.” I filled their cups and carried away the empty plates.

  I noticed two older women sitting at a booth and jumped, not knowing how long they had been sitting there. I grabbed two ice waters and smiled as I approached them. They were opening a stack of mail sitting on the table. “Good morning,” I said, setting the waters in front of them.

  “Well, who are you?” the first woman said. She was wearing a red sweatshirt with a mouse dressed like an elf on the front of it. “I know everyone in here but I don’t know you. Where’s your name tag?”

  “As you can see, Gloria excels in proper etiquette,” the second woman said. “She should write the manners column for the newspaper.”

  The first woman laughed and tiny, loose salt-and-pepper curls bounced around her face. “I’m Gloria Bailey,” she said, picking up a strand of curls and pinning them on top of her head.

  “I’m Miriam,” the second woman said in an accent I couldn’t pinpoint yet. Her hair hung in a sleek, honey-colored bob and a large diamond ring sparkled on her right hand.

  “I’m Christine. I don’t have a name tag yet.”

  “Are you from here, Christine?” Gloria asked.

  “Please, Gloria, must you put this poor woman through your twenty questions? Let her learn her job without being subjected to you so early in the morning.”

  “I am taking the time to know her,” Gloria said. “You could learn to do the same.”

  “I know all the people I want and most of them I don’t like.”

  “Miriam looks good on the outside,” Gloria said, “but inside she’s nothing but tacky.”

  I wasn’t sure if they were angry at each other or if this was normal banter between the two of them. “Where are you from?” I asked.

  They answered Georgia and England in unison.

  Gloria looked up at me. “I would like bacon, egg, and cheese on an onion bagel with a cup of coffee. Miriam here will have a boiled egg, medium yolk, a piece of dry wheat toast, and a cup of English breakfast tea. I’d like to say that we vary from time to time but I’m afraid we’re old and set in our ways and this is what we order all the time.”

  I hurried to the computer so I could input their orders. It seemed like I was taking too long and I sensed someone standing behind me. Tasha was in college and I felt she was assured that she was far more brilliant than me and I’m sure she was. “I don’t think I’ve done this right,” I said, looking at her.

  She glanced at the screen. “Bacon, egg, and cheese on an onion bagel and a boiled egg, medium yolk, with dry wheat toast. Just send it through. If you take this long for each order you’ll never get to all your tables. You have a guy at number six.”

  I looked up and noticed the young man. He was tapping the corner of the menu on the table. He looked up as I approached and smiled. He had sandy brown hair, dark eyes, and solid, square shoulders.

  “Hi,” he said, laying his menu on the table.

  He held my gaze and I felt self-conscious. I had thrown my hair into a quick ponytail and forgotten to put on eye shadow. “Do you know what you’d like or do you need a few minutes?”

  “If I need a few minutes that means you’ll get to come back to my table again, right?”

  Was I blushing? “Right,” I said.

  “Then, yes, I will definitely need a few minutes.” Was he flirting with me? No, couldn’t be. He’s younger than I am. He must have a girlfriend. I turned to go but he stopped me. “What do you recommend?”

  Why would that question make me smile? Get over yourself, Christine. “People really like the bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel.”

  “Do you like it?” he asked. His smile turned up into a dimple on one side of his face.

  “I love bagel sandwiches, sure.” I sounded so stupid. Actually, I didn’t care for bagel sandwiches one way or the other. I walked toward the kitchen to check on my orders. What just happened back there? Did that guy flirt with me? No, he didn’t. He didn’t, I told myself. My track record with men had been rocky to say the least. I had a knack for attracting losers. Since Brad left I had dated two men who turned out to be more messed up and dysfunctional than me. I shook my head. There’s no way the guy at table six thought anything of me. I look terrible. And even if he did flirt, he’d stop flirting the second he heard I have two children. I put the food on a tray and placed a sprig of parsley and an orange slice on each plate before picking up a glass of water at the waitress station along with a coffeepot.

  When I turned the corner I could feel the guy at table six watching me as I walked to Gloria and Miriam’s table. “In case you’re wondering,” Gloria whispered, “yes, he’s still looking.”

  “He’s too young,” I said, putting her bagel sandwich in front of her.

  “For you maybe,” she said. “He’s fair game for me and Miriam.” Miriam lau
ghed out loud.

  “Shh,” I said. “He’s going to know we’re talking about him.”

  “Let’s use some sort of code,” Gloria said, watching as I poured her coffee. “Let’s just refer to him as TS for table six. Get it?” Miriam rolled her eyes.

  I filled the cups of the mechanics behind me one last time and left the bill on the table. When I turned around TS was smiling, his arm slung over the back of the bench. “Are you ready to order?” I asked, pushing loose hair behind my ear.

  “Not really, but as much as I’d like it I don’t think your boss would let you keep coming to my table empty-handed.” My face felt as red as Gloria’s sweatshirt. He was flirting with me. Somehow this guy thought I was pretty and I felt like a high schooler again. He smiled and my stomach flipped. “I’ll have the bagel sandwich you recommended. On what kind of bagel?”

  “Onion,” I said, writing. “With a cup of coffee.”

  I walked away and hoped he wasn’t looking at my butt but hoped he was looking at my butt. Gloria and Miriam nodded; he was. I turned the corner to the waitress station and stepped next to Karen. “Do you know the guy at table six?” I asked. She turned to see him. “Don’t look at him!” I said between my teeth. “He’s looking over here.”

  Karen opened a bakery case and pretended to move some pastries around, looking at him through the glass window. “I have no idea,” she said. She closed the case and stood back up. “I’ve never seen him before. Gloria and Miriam would know him. They know everybody.”

  I finished inputting his order into the computer. “Not everybody,” I said.

  Karen poured sugar packets from a bag into a bin beside the coffeemakers. “He’s still looking over here.”

  “He’ll stop looking when he learns I have two kids.”

  “You never know,” she said.

  I put a cup on my tray and then picked up the coffeepot and a small pitcher of cream. Was Karen right? Could he be the kind of guy who would be interested in a woman with children? No way, I said to myself. Several customers motioned for me to warm up their coffee as I passed and I could see TS watching me.

  I walked to his table, set the empty cup in front of him, and filled it with coffee, setting the cream beside it. “Just black,” he said. I put the cream back on my tray and turned to walk away. “Hey,” TS said. I stopped to look at him. He really was gorgeous. “Do you know Christy?” My heart stopped beating. Only Brad called me that. My head started spinning. Brad must have sent him here to find out what kind of hours I was working or anything else he could dig up and use against me. I was going to be slapped with another court appearance or he was going to call my home when he knew I was working a late shift and leave countless intimidating voice mails. I rushed to the kitchen and tried to catch my breath. How could I be so stupid? This guy wasn’t interested in me.

  “Are you all right?” Karen asked, balancing a tray of food on her hip.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I said. “But could you finish taking care of table six? I think my ex-husband sent him here to look for me. He’s looking for Christy. Only my ex calls me that. He doesn’t know who I am. Please don’t tell him, Karen.”

  “Has he been rude or something?” I shook my head. “Then what makes you think your ex-husband sent him here? What would be the point?”

  I was taken off guard and annoyed. “The point would be to get at me any way he could. That’s what he does.”

  Karen could sense that I was frustrated. “I’ll finish the table. Don’t worry about it.”

  I walked to the computer and closed out the rest of my tables. My face was hot and my heart pounded in my ears. I felt so foolish and embarrassed. For a moment I had felt pretty again and my mind had wandered off in thoughts of romance and adult conversation instead of the familiar anxieties, frustrations, and disappointments. I never should have allowed myself to feel that way. Stupid, stupid. I slipped Gloria and Miriam’s bill onto Karen’s tray because their table was much too close to TS. “Thanks, Karen.”

  “No problem. But you know, that kid doesn’t seem like the hurtful type. I think he’s full of himself, not nearly as good-looking as he thinks he is, and I know my husband could take him out but I don’t think it’s in his makeup to be intimidating.”

  I could see TS looking around for me and Gloria and Miriam caught more than an earful from Karen as she finished out their table. For once in my life I was thankful I didn’t have a section full of customers waiting for me but instead I was waiting for them to finish. I busied myself cutting up more orange slices in the kitchen, waited for TS to leave, and hoped I’d never see him again.

  Jason shoved his hands in his coat pocket and headed back to Wilson’s through the town square. He walked to the gazebo and thought of playing with his sister inside it as his parents and grandparents sat on a nearby park bench and talked. He was always the superhero saving his sister from the cruel villain, Dakmar the Dark. He thought the name was so stupid; his sister made it up. He looked at the buildings surrounding the square: the fire house that had recently been painted a brighter shade of red, the attorney’s office with the giant wreaths hanging in the windows, the library where he and his sister would sit for story time every morning they visited, and the drugstore where his grandparents would take them for candy and ice cream (all in secret so his mother wouldn’t know how much junk they were eating). He smiled at the memories.

  He thought of squirrels running up the elm trees and people playing with their children and dogs. He remembered the shopkeepers who spied his grandparents in the park and joined them for a cracker with cheese out of the family picnic basket. He thought how some of them had labored hard over the decades and how some didn’t work hard enough so their storefront signs and names were now long forgotten. He recalled conversations of business lost and some gained, of customers who moved, gave birth, or died, and how at the end of the crackers and cheese he would take his grandfather’s hand and walk back to Wilson’s with him.

  Jason’s cell phone rang and he saw it was Ashley. He let it ring in his hand, wondering if he should answer it. He thought of the town square and of cheese and crackers and the waitress’ pretty face at Betty’s and put the phone back in his pocket.

  When he got back to the store a familiar voice greeted him. “Good morning, Jason,” she said.

  He racked his brain for her name but came up empty. “Good morning,” he said, walking past her. He thought of the ridiculous quiz Marshall was making him take and stopped. “I don’t think I remember your name.”

  “Debbie,” she said.

  He nodded, remembering now. He looked at a young girl changing mannequins in the front window. “And who’s that?”

  “Lauren,” she said.

  “Got it,” he said, committing the names to memory. He walked into the office and hung his jacket on the coatrack. “I went to all the downtown restaurants and there isn’t a Christy.”

  Marshall pursed his lips, scratching his forehead. “Maybe Judy got her name wrong. She wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind. Well, we can’t say we haven’t tried.” He looked at Jason. “Did you remember to bring back another sack of cookies?”

  “You didn’t tell me to bring back cookies.”

  “Sure I did.”

  “No, you didn’t. And you don’t need cookies anyway. You’ll end up like Judy.”

  “You sound just like your grandmother,” Marshall said.

  Jason sat in Judy’s chair and talked loud enough for Marshall to hear him. “The lady who helped with my suitcase is named Debbie, by the way,” he said. “Can I get my check now?”

  “Only when you answer all the questions correctly as you take the test, not after the fact.” Marshall stepped out of his office and stood in front of Jason. “How would you like to volunteer at Glory’s Place?”

  “What in the world is Glory’s Place?”

  “It’s a place where underprivileged parents can learn skills or leave their children while they work. They’re a
lways shorthanded over there and I got a call this morning from Gloria Bailey who asked if I knew anyone who could help. It’d be great exposure for you if you did some hands-on work.”

  “In what way?” Jason asked, swiveling in the chair.

  Marshall picked up a stack of mail on the edge of Judy’s desk and tapped it in his palm. “You’ll meet people who need help.” He slapped the mail in his hand and walked up to his office. “If you could head over there this week that’d be great. I told Gloria she could expect you.” The warmth of the gazebo left Jason. If he wanted to volunteer somewhere it would be a place of his choosing, not something his grandfather dictated. “And the next time you’re in Betty’s bring back a sack of cookies.”

  Jason put his hands on top of his head and leaned back in the chair. “You don’t need cookies.”

  “Tomorrow will be fine!” Marshall said, yelling from his office.

  The breakfast rush ended around nine thirty. I scrambled to get my tables ready for the lunch crowd, refilling the sugar and napkin dispensers, and setting a ketchup and mustard bottle on each table. I noticed a woman sit down at the table closest to the window and walked to the waitress station. “She won’t eat anything,” Karen said. “She just orders a day-old pastry and a cup of coffee. She’s weird. Never talks much and never leaves a tip.”

  I filled a glass with ice and water and picked up a menu, taking them to the woman’s table. I set the water down and recognized her as the woman I had told to apply for the waitress job at Patterson’s. “Hi,” I said. She didn’t look at me but I noticed she wasn’t wearing makeup, her arms were thin, blue veins ridged the top of her hands, and her shoulder blades looked like bony wings down her back. “Did you get the job at Patterson’s?” She looked up at me, confused. “I told you they needed a waitress.”

  A glimmer of recognition flashed in her eyes. “I went in there and talked to a lady about it but I didn’t fill out an application. I’ve never been a waitress before. I wouldn’t be very good at it.”

  “You’d be great at it. If I can do it anybody can do it. I’m Christine by the way.” She didn’t tell me her name. The shirt she wore accentuated her long, thin arms. “Didn’t you wear a coat today?” I asked. She shook her head. “You must be freezing. You’re like my kids. They run out the door and I have to chase them down to put a coat on them.” I put the menu in front of her and she pushed it away.