Deb glared. “Employee discount. Let’s go. I’ll show you where the bus bins are.”
Maggie followed behind her, taking her purse with her. Deb showed her a set of hooks where she could hang her coat and bag, then handed her an apron and an order pad.
Nerves tried to choke Maggie when she stared at the backside of the kitchen doors. It had been ages since she’d done so much socializing. Misunderstanding her nerves, Deb patted her arm.
“Don’t worry about the short hand right now. And if anyone gives you lip, let me know. They should be grateful they don’t have to wait forever for their food.” She muttered the last to herself as she pulled out her cell phone and made a call. “Shorty? I need you to come in early. Katya’s out and apparently the whole town needs fed. Thanks.”
Maggie took a deep breath. She could do this. Shehadto do this. No matter what happened out there, she’d survived worse. With that thought, she squared her shoulders and strode through the swinging doors.
Laterthatnight,Maggiecounted her tips and added it to her cash in her purse, then headed to what the locals had fondly referred to as the Haven.
Her GPS led her to a gorgeous Queen Anne Victorian house on Hickory Way, about five minutes from the town square. Light from the painted teal pole lamp highlighted pale yellow siding curved around an honest-to-God turret, with teal shutters on all the windows.
Hawthorn Haven lived up to its name.
She knocked at the porch door, wondering if the owner was even awake at this late hour. “Coming!”
Maggie gripped her suitcase next to her as the wooden door opened. An older woman backlit by the warm glow lifted the latch on the storm door. “You must be Maggie! I heard you got waylaid at the diner.”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Virginia Morrison, I’m the owner. Come in! You must be absolutely bushed.” She followed after Virginia into a foyer, stopping at a gorgeous carved mahogany desk while her hostess went behind it.
“I’ve got your booking right here. Just sign the ledger and I’ll get your key.”
Maggie signed, hesitating over her last name. In the end, she left off Callahan and just signed her maiden name.
“You hadn’t indicated a check out date in your booking online.” Virginia slid some reading glasses onto her nose as she clicked around an ancient desktop computer. “Or perhaps I messed something up with the internet. My nephew set this up for me, but I can’t make heads or tails of it sometimes.”
“No, you’re right. I didn’t.” Maggie bit her lip. “I’m not sure how long I’m staying. It seems at least I found a job, so I’ll probably be staying for a while.”
Virginia raised her brows, her eyes comically large behind the glasses. “How interesting! We don’t get many newcomers. Not permanently, anyway.” She muttered the last bit, seemingly to herself, so Maggie ignored it.
“I’m just looking for a fresh start. Someplace new.”
“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Virginia wrote a number down on a pad next to her keyboard and handed it to Maggie. “Edith called and said you might be staying a while. How about this for a weekly rate?”
Maggie’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”
Virginia nodded. “It’s the slow season right now, so you’re my only guest.”
She knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. “That would be wonderful, thank you.” This way, her money would stretch. “Why would Edith call you about me?”
Virginia shrugged. “We chat all the time. Sometimes she gets these feelings. She’s usually right.” She turned around and pulled a key out of a drawer. “Like when she said our Grace would come home after she moved away.”
“Grace?”
Virginia waved her off. “Hometown girl. She grew up here, and she came back and opened her own bakery. You can’t miss it on Main Street, it’s the one with the pink awning.”
“Oh, I did see that.”
“She’s absolutely brilliant at baking, that girl. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” Virginia shuffled out from the desk over to a gleaming wooden staircase.
Maggie followed, her eyes taking in the lovingly cared for details of the home. Her room came with its own bathroom, antique furniture, and some wallpaper that reminded her of agrandmother’s bedroom. But the bed was comfortable, and after all the beige hotel walls she was relieved to see some color.
Virginia bid her good night and left to lock up. Now that she had her new temporary address, she had to update Alex. She opened the email app on her new phone, using the password she’d stored in a notebook in her bag. She’d change to a new email soon, but she didn’t have Alex’s or Jessica’s saved. That was something else she’d do tonight.
First things first, she opened an email to Alex before her inbox finished loading. She used the subject line “Location update” and made the message short.
