Remembering Christmas (14 page)

He never did go fishing with Art, and he never learned how to surf.

Rick was thinking about these things as he locked the front door to the Book Nook. Once again, he’d forgotten to bring anything for lunch, and he was starving. Got an idea to drive around the corner to Beach Street, get something at the diner where Andrea worked. He taped a little sign inside the door: “Back in 1 hour.”

It was a bright, sunny day, felt like about seventy degrees outside. The kind of winter day that gets so many people up north to move down here. Rick hopped in his Celica and drove off. He pushed in that Pat Terry cassette Mack had been playing. He actually wanted to hear some more. A few minutes later, he was driving slowly down Beach Street, looking for the Driftwood Diner.

It was a shame to see so many stores closed up, especially since he could remember what it had looked like when he was a kid. Sears sat at one end of Beach Street, JCPenney’s at the other, with all the smaller stores and restaurants in between. The two big stores were still there but had big signs in the windows: Moving Soon to the New Mall!

There was the diner, with a closed-down shoe repair shop on one side, a closed jewelry store on the other. Rick pulled into one of the many parking spaces available. Before turning the car off, he sat there, puzzled at the sentimental feelings going on inside him.

Why should he care what happened to these stores on Beach Street? Just a few days ago, he’d seen this same scene and thought it a good thing, evidence of economic progress.

He got out of the car and stepped over the curb. Didn’t see Andrea yet. The Driftwood Diner had a half dozen tables outside under an awning. All empty. He walked through the glass door and saw her bringing drinks to two elderly women at the end of a row of more empty tables. For a moment, he was about to turn right around and head back out the door but then realized it wasn’t Molly and Fran.

The diner had a fifties look to it, black and white tile, red and white checkerboard tablecloths, an old soda fountain bar wrapping around the right side with swiveling padded stools. As he looked closer, he realized it wasn’t a decorating style. This stuff looked like it might be original.

Andrea turned and saw him, smiled and waved. She really looked cute in her little getup and apron. Like the kind of waitress guys couldn’t help but hit on. He found himself a little edgy at that thought as he smiled and nodded.

“Just pick a seat anywhere,” she said as she walked an empty tray around the counter. “I’ll be right over.”

Rick picked a booth near the window, grabbed a menu from a metal clip near the wall. It was simple lunchtime fare. Burgers, dogs, fries, chili, sodas, and milk shakes, fixed just the way you like ’em.

“Who’s watching the store?” she asked.

He looked up to find her standing right there. “Nobody. Seems like it empties out about now for an hour or so. Did yesterday, same thing today. Forgot my lunch, so I thought I’d pop in here and get something. What’s good and fast?” he asked.

“It’s all fast,” she said, smiling. “Guess the cheeseburger’s what everybody gets. Kinda greasy, but I think that’s on purpose.”

“Then I’ll have that, extra grease, fries, and a Coke.”

“You want cherry in the Coke?”

“Sure, extra cherry.”

She laughed and was about to walk away.

“Can you visit a little after you put in the order?” Rick said.

She looked over her shoulder. “Not really. The owner’s got a rule about that, even if the restaurant’s completely empty, he doesn’t want the help sitting down.”

“That’s all right. I really should just wolf down lunch and head back.”

“Let me go put this in then. I can stand over here for a few minutes, after I stop by my other table.”

He watched her head back toward the kitchen, through a swinging door. A few minutes later she came out with a tray full of food and dropped it off to the women at the end. She glanced once more at the kitchen door then headed toward Rick.

“How do you guys stay open?” he asked quietly. “How do you survive on tips with no customers?”

“It’s not bad, actually. We were hopping around here thirty minutes ago. Same at breakfast. It completely drops off in between.”

“Really? Where do these customers come from? Looks pretty dead out there.” He pointed toward the street with his eyes.

“This place couldn’t make it,” she said, leaning forward, “except there’s a few big law firms down by Sears and then the courthouse by the Silver Street bridge. Thankfully, they’re not going anywhere once the mall opens, so we should be okay. Let me get your cherry Coke.”

A few moments later, she came back with it. He took a sip, ice cold, really tasted good. “See, I knew you’d like the cherry,” Andrea said. “I’ll go check on your burger.”

“Think it will be done already?”

“He’s pretty quick with this stuff.”

Rick thought it was just as well. He really didn’t want to be gone too long. Besides, he had to drive out to the bank and make that—shoot! He just realized . . . he left the bank envelope at the store, under the counter.

“What’s wrong?” she said, setting the burger and fries down in front of him.

“Nothing. I just realized I’ve got to swing by the store after here. Remember that bank deposit I put together yesterday? Had to go by the hospital last night, get my mom’s signature on a check for petty cash. The bank was closed by then.”

“If you want, as dead as it is in here, I’ll probably get off right at 2:30. You could wait on the bank till then, and I’ll watch the store while you go.”

“No, that’s all right.” He picked up a couple of fries. “I’ll just do it now. Don’t want to take a chance we get too busy and I miss getting the money in there again before it closes.”

She smiled. “I’ve gotta go check on my ladies. Everything okay here?”

“Nice and greasy, just like I ordered.” He looked to the left by the wall. “And there’s the ketchup. Looks like I’m all set.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said as she walked down the row of tables toward the two women.

He picked up his burger and took a bite. It was greasy and crispy. The buns were basted in butter and grilled also. Simply delicious.

As he took the next bite, he found himself staring at Andrea. She really was . . . beautiful. Instantly he knew his real reason for rejecting her offer to go to the bank while she waited at the store. It had nothing to do with worrying about the bank being closed. It was about cutting into the time he’d get to spend with her at the store.

For that matter, he knew why he’d really come here for lunch in the first place. He took a sip of cherry Coke.

What are you thinking? She’s got a kid
.

Standing by the counter, Andrea waved to Rick as he left the diner. It was empty now. She grabbed a washcloth and an empty gray tub, intending to clean up his table. She set both down and quickly walked to the window, standing back several feet until she saw his car begin to pull away. As it did, she took a few steps closer and watched it head down Beach Street.

“That the guy?”

It was Sal, her boss.

“What?” she said. She hurried over to Rick’s table, began gathering things into the tub.

“The guy who was just here,” he said, walking down the counter aisle.

She glanced up at him standing there in his white apron and T-shirt, a towel slung over his shoulder. “What do you mean?” She knew what he meant.

“The guy. You know, the guy you been talking about the last few days. Art and Leanne’s boy.”

Had she been talking about Rick? She must have, for Sal to ask. “He’s not Art and Leanne’s boy, just Leanne’s. Art’s his stepfather.”

“Guess it’s him then. So what, something happenin’ between you two?”

“What?” she said, wiping the table down. “No, there’s nothing—why would you even say that, Sal?”

“I was lookin’, saw the way he was lookin’ at you. The way most the guys who come in here look at you. Thing is . . . I never seen you follow them out and watch them drive away.”

This was horrible. She was so embarrassed. “I wasn’t following him out. I was just—”

“C’mon, Andrea. You gonna tell me you suddenly got interested in nice cars? Hey, relax. It’s no big deal. You know I been saying you need to get out more, start having a social life.” He started walking back to the kitchen, then stopped. “And Amy . . . I bet you ask her, she might like to have a daddy someday.”

“Sal!”

“What?”

“Now you’ve got me married off to this guy? There’s nothing going on between us. I just met him a few days ago. And I can already tell, we’ve got nothing in common.”

He turned toward the kitchen door. Just before he walked through the swinging door, he said over his shoulder, “My mama used to say something about opposites.”

Rick drove the few city blocks back to the store. From one block away he looked up, glad to see there wasn’t a crowd waiting out front. Just one high-school-aged kid standing on the sidewalk, holding a skateboard. As Rick got close to the church, something seemed wrong.

The kid was looking around nervously at the store’s front door, then down the street, then back at the door. Rick was so focused on the kid, he didn’t even notice the front door. The kid turned as Rick’s car stopped. He was saying something and pointing toward the door. Rick looked at it as he got out of the car. It was standing wide open, and the glass panel nearest the doorknob was shattered.

The bank deposit!

“No, no, no,” Rick muttered as he ran around the car. “Kid, what happened? Is there someone in there now?”

“No,” the kid said. “I was skating on the sidewalk by the front of the church. When I got to the corner there, I heard some guy crying out in pain. He was coming up those steps fast, but I guess he tripped.”

“Where is he?” Rick asked, walking down the steps.

“He took off running, that way.” He pointed south. “On the sidewalk. He was limping. At that first block, he crossed the street and kept running.”

“Stay here a minute, will you?” Rick ran inside. The cash register drawer was wide open. And it was empty. He ran past it and reached under the counter. The deposit bag was gone. Over two thousand dollars. He ran back out front; the kid was getting ready to skate away. “Hey, kid, wait!”

“I don’t want to get messed up in this. I gotta get home.”

“C’mon, kid . . . what’s your name?”

“Jed.”

“Okay, Jed. Look, you’re the only one saw this guy. Can you tell me what he looked like?”

“Some homeless guy, looked like it anyway.”

“Can you describe him?”

“I don’t know . . . homeless. Had a big old coat on, hair all over the place, scraggly beard.”

Columbo, Rick thought. “I’m gonna call the cops,” he said. “They’ll want to talk to you.”

“Sorry, man, I’m outta here.” He skated across the intersection.

“Hold on . . . Jed, stop.” But he kept going. A few seconds later he was out of sight. Rick ran back in the store and dialed 911.

“911, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

“A robbery, a break-in, at St. Luke’s Church downtown. Actually, the little bookstore on the corner.”

“Are you there now, sir?”

“Yes, it just happened, maybe five, ten minutes ago. He couldn’t have gone far. Please send someone immediately.”

“Did you see the suspect?”

“No, a high school kid was here when I got here, but he left.”

“Do you think he’s the suspect?”

“No, he told me it was a homeless guy. The kid didn’t have anything on him, just a skateboard. But, look, this guy stole everything in the cash drawer and a bank deposit, with over two thousand dollars cash.” Rick sighed loudly. “I can’t believe this.”

“A patrolman is on his way, sir. He’s only a few blocks from you. Can you stay on the line?”

“Yes, well . . . yes. But I think I know who did this.”

“Can you describe him?”

“I didn’t actually see him, but there’s this homeless guy been hanging around the store the last few days. I chased him off. He matches the description the kid gave me.”