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“You wanted to talk to me?” I asked when it was just the two of us left in his office.
“Yes,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you don’t have any plans for lunch this afternoon.”
That wasn’t necessarily what I was expecting him to say, but I just shook my head.
“No. I just brought some leftovers from dinner last night,” I said.
“Good. I’m taking you to lunch today. We have something we need to talk about,” he said.
That didn’t do much to make me feel less nervous. I tried not to show it as I nodded my acknowledgement.
“Alright,” I said.
“See you then,” he said before walking out, leaving me standing there trying to figure out what might be happening.
I sincerely hoped I wasn’t getting fired. That would be a crash I wasn’t prepared for and wouldn’t know how to recover from. I tried to tell myself that very likely wasn’t what was going on. First, bringing me out to lunch seemed like an overly elaborate way to give me the ax. It wasn’t a breakup. Everett didn’t need to find a way to let me down gently and tell me he hoped we would still be friends. If he didn’t want me working for the logging company anymore, he would just give me my walking papers and send me on my way.
Second, there was really no reason for me to get fired. I worked hard. Harder than hard. I was an asset to the team, and they’d always expressed appreciation for me.
Even with all the logical reassurances going through my mind, I couldn’t stop worrying about the purpose behind the lunch throughout the morning. It took far more concentration and effort than usual to get my work done, but I still managed to check off everything on my morning to-do list and get a bit of a head start on the afternoon before it was time to meet up with Everett for lunch.
He chatted casually with me while driving us into town. I knew before even getting into his truck that he was probably going to bring me to the diner, and now that we were on our way, it only brought up a new wave of discomfort and worries. Being at the diner meant we would be on full display. Not just in front of all the customers who packed themselves into the seats during the day, but also for the people we both knew.
At least if something had happened and this was the end, I could stuff myself silly with French fries and contemplate the next steps of my life. Maybe they would even be hiring, and I could just tie on an apron and transition smoothly into the next phase.
Everett didn’t seem to have anything heavy on his mind as he talked throughout the drive. He told me about everything the twins were doing now and gushed about how fast they were growing up. They were still tiny babies, but he felt like they were changing in between the time he left for work in the morning and when he got home to them in the evening. I could commiserate. I could still remember Olly seeming to change and get bigger when I was looking right at him as a baby.
When we got to the diner, he asked for a table near the front windows. The waitress brought us to a preferred booth, one that must have just gone vacant seconds before we walked in. Either that or this was all orchestrated and Helen had already made sure the table was set aside for him, but he’d asked for it anyway just to look like he was playing by the rules for all the customers.
We sat down, and Everett looked up at the waitress.
“There’s going to be a third,” he said.
She nodded and put down three menus.
“Can I get anybody something to drink while you look over the menu?” she offered.
“Coffee,” Everett said.
“Just water,” I said. She started away from the table, and I reached out for her slightly. “Actually, coffee.”
The waitress walked away, and I tried not to stare at the third menu. Who could be meeting us for lunch? If it was one of the guys from the logging company, he would have just ridden with us. And if not, if he was running late and would need to meet us there, I would have thought that Everett would have just said something about it rather than having the mysterious empty spot at the table just waiting to be filled.
A few seconds later, the waitress returned carrying a tray. She set a mug down in front of each of us, then placed a third next to the menu.
“Just in case,” she said with a wink.
She poured steaming coffee from a glass carafe into each of the mugs, then took a pitcher of cream and a small sugar bowl with its own little spoon from the tray and set them in the center of the table. With a smile, she took the tray and walked away. Everett immediately started augmenting his coffee with an abundant amount of cream and sugar, but I sipped mine black.
