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Chapter 2
Reese silently closed the front door and locked it behind her as the first rays of light teased the night sky. She dressed in jeans and a t-shirt boasting the diner’s chicken fried steak with her hair secured in a messy knot and her purse swung over her shoulder. Hopefully, if she got to the diner a little early and kept her head down, she would still have a job by the end of her shift. It wasn’t much of a job, but the paycheck cashed, and the tips were good.
Pausing to glance at her 2000 Ford Taurus, she considered trying to start it again today. Unless a miracle happened overnight, it was still dead. If she were going to wish for a miracle, it would have been winning the lotto. Reese checked her lotto ticket this morning before getting dressed. The one-dollar lotto ticket she bought every week was an extravagance she allowed herself. Since she was dressed and out the door at an ungodly hour, that didn’t happen. She hurried down the driveway past the broken heap in the shape of a car.
She mused about the if-onlys in her life as she started the walk to work. At least she hoped she still worked there. But if Mr. Jacobs decided to fire her, Reese could add that to the list. if-only her ex-husband hadn’t moved them across the country in search of his latest dream job. if-only Mav could find something that interested him enough to stay out of trouble. Something that held his attention long enough to get them to graduation. if-only she could find a job that paid well enough to get a car that didn’t spend more time along the side of the road or dead in the driveway. if-only she could afford to fix up her little house.
if-only she could give Mav a better life than the local secondhand store clearance rack could offer. if-only her ex hadn’t decided to have a mid-life crisis at age thirty-five, emptied their accounts, and took the college money. if-only he hadn’t knocked up a twenty-year-old used car model with bigger headlights than a Studebaker leaving her with a stack of bills and no way to pay them.
He even took most of the money from the sale of their house during the divorce. Reese saved what little she was given to put a down payment on her little house on the edge of town. The if-only list could go on and on, but worrying didn’t pay the bills. If it did, Reese wouldn’t need to play the lottery.
The lights in the diner were the only signs of life on Main Street. Reese checked her watch before pulling open the door. Even with the mile and a half walk, she was still early. She breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Jacobs was nowhere in sight.
Reese traded her purse for the apron stashed in a cubby under the counter. Winding the strings around her waist, she readied for the breakfast crowd. Maybe if there was a big crowd and she was busy, he wouldn’t fire her. Maybe he could learn to keep his hands to himself too. She should add that to her if-only list. She mused as the bell above the door jingled, signaling the first customer of the day. Plastering on a smile, she got to work.
Reese thought luck might be on her side as the hours slipped by. The diner had filled with the early crowd and then again with a later crowd. Mr. Jacobs eyed her carefully from his perch at the cash register. He seemed to be waiting for her to slip up. Reese knew what was coming. The man was looking for an excuse. Any excuse to fire her in front of as many people as possible would make his day. The small-town gossip would take care of the rest.
“Reese, you going to get that?” Mr. Jacobs’s tone had her moving faster to get to the ringing phone before he moved from his perch behind the cash register.
“Hello, Main Street Diner. Can I take your order?” Reese answered as cheerfully as she could manage.
“Is Reese Carter available?”
The brisk voice on the other end of the line gave no indication of what they wanted, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was Reese was getting fired today. Personal phone calls were a big no-no. It wouldn’t matter what the circumstances were. She was done.
“Yes, this is Reese Carter.”
“Ms. Carter, this is Officer Franks at the Nelsonville Police Department. Do you know Mr. Oliver Craft?”
“Is he okay? What happened to him?” Tears popped into Reese’s eyes as she felt the prying eyes of nearby patrons land on her.
“Ma’am, you know him?” The officer asked again.
“Yes, he is my grandfather.”
“Ma’am, we found Mr. Craft at the bus station this morning. The drug dog stopped him on site. He was found to have marijuana in his suitcase. More importantly, your grandfather is having a medical problem and refuses to be transported to the hospital. He keeps instructing us to call you.”
“At the bus station here? What do you mean he is refusing to go to the hospital? What is wrong with him?” Reese tried to keep the panic out of her voice but knew she was losing the fight. People were starting to stare.
“He appears to be confused. He had a note in his wallet that says he suffers from dementia and a list of medications he should be taking. We didn’t find any medication in his bags. Is there any way you can come down to the station and get him?”
Looking at her boss’s gleaming eyes, she knew she would have all the time in the world really soon. “Yes, Officer Franks. I will be right there. Please don’t let him go anywhere.”
“He will be safe at the station until you can get here,” the officer assured her.
Reese hung up the phone. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her purse out from under the counter and prepared to get fired. She knew it was coming but who looks forward to public humiliation.
Walking the short distance to the cash register, Reese watched the smile of demented pleasure cross her soon-to-be former boss’s face. When she handed him her apron, he grabbed the fabric and her ass at the same time.
Before she could tamp it down, her temper flared, and Mr. Jacobs was sitting on the floor holding his right eye. The stool he sat on to lord over them was toppled over beside him. Everything screeched to a stop around them. The cook was standing at the door with his mouth hanging open, and everyone else was staring at her. If creating a public display was on her to-do list for today, Reese just checked it off.
“I knew you were a worthless piece of trash,” he bellowed up at her. His normally slicked-back silver hair was in disarray, and his face was rapidly turning a shade of red Reese had never seen on a person before.
“Save it,” Reese shot back at him. “I am done. I am done working here, and I am done trying to be fast enough not to have my ass grabbed every damn day. We shouldn’t have to put up with a dirty old man getting a cheap thrill. No one should have to put up with that crap. Here is the apron, and here is the name tag.”
Tossing the tag at her now-former boss’s head, she followed it with her t-shirt. Thankfully, she had the sense to wear a tank under her work shirt just in case this happened. “You will not be charging me for the one shirt you so kindly provided me with to work six days a week. You can mail me my last check, and you better not cheat me out of money I worked hard for this time.”
Reese stalked out of the diner, paying no attention to the open-mouthed gawkers riveted to the display she had just created. She may have trouble finding a new job, but she couldn’t deny it felt good to leave her mark on her old boss.
