Page 3 of Hairpin Curves

“Zayne’s picking me up in an hour. We’re going to the movies. I wanted to look nice.” He struck a pose. “This is good, right?”

“Gorgeous. I look like I took a bath in our sink. But look.” Scarlett flipped a switch and the garbage disposal roared to life, draining the brown water away in a whirlpool. “Très sexy, non?”

“Magnifique.” Jacen chef-kissed his fingers. “What about you? Are you going out with—” he blanched, probably remembering she was single “—anyone?” he finished, somewhat weakly.

“No dates for me.” Scarlett started packing up her tools. Ever since she and Gwen had broken up a few weeks ago, she’d struggled to find the motivation to go anywhere. With a freelance job that she could do from home, this was a recipe for not leaving the house much.

“You want to come out with Zayne and me?” Jacen gestured vaguely toward the door. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“No, I don’t want to be your third wheel. That—” she gestured to his outfit “—is clearly clothing for a date. I have work to do tonight, anyway. And a video chat.”

Jacen frowned again. “You okay? This isn’t like you, home on a Friday, video chatting instead of going out. I swear, you’re here all the time, now.”

“I live here, Jacen.” She carried the tools she’d used back to the closet, then stripped out of her shirt on her way to take a shower.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind about coming with us,” Jacen hollered down the hall. “I don’t like to see you moping.”

“I’m not moping!” She left her clothes on her bedroom floor and locked herself in the bathroom, in part just so she wouldn’t have to continue that conversation. Sure, yeah, she’d been moping, but that wasn’t Jacen’s problem.

She took her hair down to rinse it, massaging her scalp with her fingertips. With the warm water running over her body, she could close her eyes and relax, if only the tension that had settled into her muscles these last few weeks would go away. It wasn’t money; she never had enough of that, but always managed to get by. And she didn’t want to think that it was Gwen. They hadn’t been good for each other, despite making a healthy attempt at a relationship, and the breakup was the right move. Missing her was normal. But she wasn’t actually missing Gwen as much as that physical closeness. Cuddling on the sofa to watch a movie. Spooning together in bed. Kissing, pressing against each other, hands and mouths bringing sweet, mindless pleasure. All that was gone, and her bed was empty.

Scarlett stood beneath the water until it began to run cold, then reluctantly got out and toweled off. Silence in the house meant Jacen had left. She put on fuzzy pajamas, even though it was the middle of the afternoon, and flopped down on the couch. Her phone stared at her, blank. No one was calling or texting. Gwen came to mind again, and she grimaced. She had better find some way to shake off this funk. In the meantime, though, she had work to do. She pulled her laptop over with a sigh.

“Closing?” Megan had to repeat the word just to make sure she’d heard Winston right. “As in, no more Starlite Diner, forever?”

Winston rested his wrinkled hands on his desk and smiled sadly at Megan across the cluttered surface. His blue eyes turned down at the edges, the smile not reaching them. “We made it through Christmas, and that’s as far as the Missus and I were hoping to take things. I’m sure you’ve seen this day coming.”

She hadn’t, but she didn’t want to tell him that. Obviously she hadn’t expected the Starlite to stay open forever, but Winston and Martha hadn’t given any hints of retiring. Well, other than the travel brochures that had been piling up on the desk...and the shortened business hours after the holiday...and the way Winston had started photographing the place and sighing wistfully after the New Year.

Oh.

Nodding, Winston leaned back in his chair. “We’ve had a good run, all of us, and you’ve been darn indispensable these past few years, but we got an offer from the Winn-Dixie that’s too good to turn down.”

“When?” Her voice cracked, and she tried again. “When are you closing?”

“End of the month.”

The end of the month. That month. January. Megan’s mind tipped on its axis, like her whole center of gravity had shifted, and she wrapped her hands around the arms of the chair. She’d been here for nearly ten years. Ten years. The Starlite had been her first job, a part-time dishwashing gig when she was still too young to get a job almost anywhere, slowly increasing in hours and responsibility as she got older. When Scarlett quit to take a job at the grocery store, Megan had continued at the Starlite. After college, without any immediate job prospects in Communications, at least none that didn’t require leaving the area, the Starlite had taken her on full-time. She couldn’t picture her life without these too-early mornings, brewing coffee before dawn and setting out paper placemats and silverware for the regulars.

Megan loosened her grip on the armrests, taking a breath and trying to regulate her tumult of emotions. “Have you thought about trying to find new owners? Instead of closing it?”

Winston chuckled. “Oh, we talked about it. Wondered if you might want to buy the place.”

If she had the money, maybe she would. She leaned forward to say so, then froze, mouth slightly open. This was only supposed to be a temporary job. The fact that a temporary job had grown to a nine-plus-year commitment was not because she loved it.

Winston barely paused, seemingly oblivious that she was about to speak and had stopped. “Martha told me, she said the worst thing we could do is try and saddle you with this place for the rest of your life. Restaurant’s on its last legs, Megan. You’ve seen it. We’ve all seen it. No, the Winn-Dixie wants the space, and we’re giving it to them. For a pretty penny, that is.”

Megan’s tumble of emotions settled into something like numbness, all feeling draining out of her and leaving an empty stillness behind. She’d been in this cluttered back room so many times, the sights were all familiar, but each object stood out like it was new again. The cork board covered with newspaper clippings from the restaurant’s fifty-year history. Framed photos of the T-ball team the diner had sponsored for years, most of those kids grown up and gone off to college by now. Gray filing cabinets crammed into the corners, each drawer filled with decades of vendor invoices and god knows what, since Winston and Martha always resisted digitizing their systems. Stacks of papers on every available surface. There was a whole wall of employee photos from the years, everyone who had ever worked at the Starlite Diner, from busboys to line cooks.

Megan was there, right in the middle of the wall, from back when she was first hired. Her sixteen-year-old face stared back at her. Not much had changed in nearly ten years. Sure, she’d upgraded her glasses, but she still had the same mousy brown hair, practically in the same shoulder-length cut, with the same bland smile. Teenage Megan looked resigned to whatever was ahead of her. Her stomach twisted in discomfort. Was she still the same teenager inside, just in an older body?

And then, next to her, Scarlett’s face smiled back. They’d been hired at the same time. Scarlett’s hair was a wild light-brown cloud, and she had the same goofy smile as Megan. Back then, Scarlett had seemed so sophisticated, but this photo made her look like just another sixteen-year-old kid.

Megan’s gaze drifted over the most recent row of faces in the photographs, the handful of other waitresses and cooks who traded shifts with her. Only a few, now, with the decline in business. “Does anyone else know yet?”

“We thought we’d tell you first.” Winston shuffled some papers around, averting his gaze. “You’ve been with us the longest. I figured you deserved to know first, even if you probably saw the writing on the wall for a while now.”

She must’ve looked stricken, because Winston frowned and shook his head. “Now, don’t you worry. We’re gonna take care of all of our employees, best we can.” He patted his pockets, then got up from the squeaky office chair and began rummaging through the piles. “Let’s see. Where is this. It’s a big envelope. Ah, here it is,” He pulled a manila envelope out from the file and reached inside, peering in as he sorted through the documents. “Here we go. We looked up what was standard, and we threw in a little extra because you’ve been such a big help, and because we got a good shake from the Winn-Dixie deal.” He came around to her side of the desk and handed her a check.