The Christmas Secret (10 page)

I walked to his table, set the empty cup in front of him, and filled it with coffee, setting the cream beside it. “Just black,” he said. I put the cream back on my tray and turned to walk away. “Hey,” TS said. I stopped to look at him. He really was gorgeous. “Do you know Christy?” My heart stopped beating. Only Brad called me that. My head started spinning. Brad must have sent him here to find out what kind of hours I was working or anything else he could dig up and use against me. I was going to be slapped with another court appearance or he was going to call my home when he knew I was working a late shift and leave countless intimidating voice mails. I rushed to the kitchen and tried to catch my breath. How could I be so stupid? This guy wasn't interested in me.

“Are you all right?” Karen asked, balancing a tray of food on her hip.

“Yeah, I'm good,” I said. “But could you finish taking care of table six? I think my ex-husband sent him here to look for me. He's looking for Christy. Only my ex calls me that. He doesn't know who I am. Please don't tell him, Karen.”

“Has he been rude or something?” I shook my head. “Then what makes you think your ex-husband sent him here? What would be the point?”

I was taken off guard and annoyed. “The point would be to get at me any way he could. That's what he does.”

Karen could sense that I was frustrated. “I'll finish the table. Don't worry about it.”

I walked to the computer and closed out the rest of my tables. My face was hot and my heart pounded in my ears. I felt so foolish and embarrassed. For a moment I had felt pretty again and my mind had wandered off in thoughts of romance and adult conversation instead of the familiar anxieties, frustrations, and disappointments. I never should have allowed myself to feel that way. Stupid, stupid. I slipped Gloria and Miriam's bill onto Karen's tray because their table was much too close to TS. “Thanks, Karen.”

“No problem. But you know, that kid doesn't seem like the hurtful type. I think he's full of himself, not nearly as good-looking as he thinks he is, and I know my husband could take him out but I don't think it's in his makeup to be intimidating.”

I could see TS looking around for me and Gloria and Miriam caught more than an earful from Karen as she finished out their table. For once in my life I was thankful I didn't have a section full of customers waiting for me but instead I was waiting for them to finish. I busied myself cutting up more orange slices in the kitchen, waited for TS to leave, and hoped I'd never see him again.

 

Jason shoved his hands in his coat pocket and headed back to Wilson's through the town square. He walked to the gazebo and thought of playing with his sister inside it as his parents and grandparents sat on a nearby park bench and talked. He was always the superhero saving his sister from the cruel villain, Dakmar the Dark. He thought the name was so stupid; his sister made it up. He looked at the buildings surrounding the square: the fire house that had recently been painted a brighter shade of red, the attorney's office with the giant wreaths hanging in the windows, the library where he and his sister would sit for story time every morning they visited, and the drugstore where his grandparents would take them for candy and ice cream (all in secret so his mother wouldn't know how much junk they were eating). He smiled at the memories.

He thought of squirrels running up the elm trees and people playing with their children and dogs. He remembered the shopkeepers who spied his grandparents in the
park and joined them for a cracker with cheese out of the family picnic basket. He thought how some of them had labored hard over the decades and how some didn't work hard enough so their storefront signs and names were now long forgotten. He recalled conversations of business lost and some gained, of customers who moved, gave birth, or died, and how at the end of the crackers and cheese he would take his grandfather's hand and walk back to Wilson's with him.

Jason's cell phone rang and he saw it was Ashley. He let it ring in his hand, wondering if he should answer it. He thought of the town square and of cheese and crackers and the waitress' pretty face at Betty's and put the phone back in his pocket.

When he got back to the store a familiar voice greeted him. “Good morning, Jason,” she said.

He racked his brain for her name but came up empty. “Good morning,” he said, walking past her. He thought of the ridiculous quiz Marshall was making him take and stopped. “I don't think I remember your name.”

“Debbie,” she said.

He nodded, remembering now. He looked at a young girl changing mannequins in the front window. “And who's that?”

“Lauren,” she said.

“Got it,” he said, committing the names to memory. He
walked into the office and hung his jacket on the coatrack. “I went to all the downtown restaurants and there isn't a Christy.”

Marshall pursed his lips, scratching his forehead. “Maybe Judy got her name wrong. She wasn't exactly in the best frame of mind. Well, we can't say we haven't tried.” He looked at Jason. “Did you remember to bring back another sack of cookies?”

“You didn't tell me to bring back cookies.”

“Sure I did.”

“No, you didn't. And you don't need cookies anyway. You'll end up like Judy.”

“You sound just like your grandmother,” Marshall said.

Jason sat in Judy's chair and talked loud enough for Marshall to hear him. “The lady who helped with my suitcase is named Debbie, by the way,” he said. “Can I get my check now?”

“Only when you answer all the questions correctly as you
take
the test, not after the fact.” Marshall stepped out of his office and stood in front of Jason. “How would you like to volunteer at Glory's Place?”

“What in the world is Glory's Place?”

“It's a place where underprivileged parents can learn skills or leave their children while they work. They're always shorthanded over there and I got a call this morning from Gloria Bailey who asked if I knew anyone who could help.
It'd be great exposure for you if you did some hands-on work.”

“In what way?” Jason asked, swiveling in the chair.

Marshall picked up a stack of mail on the edge of Judy's desk and tapped it in his palm. “You'll meet people who need help.” He slapped the mail in his hand and walked up to his office. “If you could head over there this week that'd be great. I told Gloria she could expect you.” The warmth of the gazebo left Jason. If he wanted to volunteer somewhere it would be a place of his choosing, not something his grandfather dictated. “And the next time you're in Betty's bring back a sack of cookies.”

Jason put his hands on top of his head and leaned back in the chair. “You don't need cookies.”

“Tomorrow will be fine!” Marshall said, yelling from his office.

 

The breakfast rush ended around nine thirty. I scrambled to get my tables ready for the lunch crowd, refilling the sugar and napkin dispensers, and setting a ketchup and mustard bottle on each table. I noticed a woman sit down at the table closest to the window and walked to the waitress station. “She won't eat anything,” Karen said. “She just orders a day-old pastry and a cup of coffee. She's weird. Never talks much and never leaves a tip.”

I filled a glass with ice and water and picked up a menu, taking them to the woman's table. I set the water down and recognized her as the woman I had told to apply for the waitress job at Patterson's. “Hi,” I said. She didn't look at me but I noticed she wasn't wearing makeup, her arms were thin, blue veins ridged the top of her hands, and her shoulder blades looked like bony wings down her back. “Did you get the job at Patterson's?” She looked up at me, confused. “I told you they needed a waitress.”

A glimmer of recognition flashed in her eyes. “I went in there and talked to a lady about it but I didn't fill out an application. I've never been a waitress before. I wouldn't be very good at it.”

“You'd be great at it. If I can do it anybody can do it. I'm Christine by the way.” She didn't tell me her name. The shirt she wore accentuated her long, thin arms. “Didn't you wear a coat today?” I asked. She shook her head. “You must be freezing. You're like my kids. They run out the door and I have to chase them down to put a coat on them.” I put the menu in front of her and she pushed it away.

“Day-old pastry and a cup of coffee,” she said.

I picked up the menu. “What kind of—?”

“Doesn't matter,” she said, cutting me off.

I brought her a chocolate chip and nut pastry because it looked the freshest and set a cup of coffee in front of her then
went back to cleaning and prepping the tables in my section. I didn't see her leave. She left two dollars on the table. “No tip,” I said, putting the money into the cash register.

“Told ya,” Karen said.

I closed out my last table at three forty. On my first day I'd met many of the regulars—the old man whose teeth didn't fit and clicked when he ordered, Adrian who was painted and pierced like a carnival attraction, the fat lady with hair the color of a ripe mango, Monica with her fraternal twins who fight like enemies, the mechanics from City Auto Service, Gloria and Miriam, the Asian college students who met for coffee after their English as a second language class, the single mom and her terror toddler “Lovey Love” with his big, diapered butt, and the tall, angular woman who rolls her big, dark eyes when she talks and laughs from her gut. They were an odd collection but I liked them all.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. The kids would be getting home in ten minutes. I hated it that they'd be there by themselves for a few minutes before I got home and hoped that Brad would never find out. “How was your first day?” I turned to see Betty calling me from the kitchen where she was rolling out dough.

“It was great. I loved it,” I said, trying my best to sound excited.

She leaned her head to the side. “Take that sack of cookies home to the kiddos. They're not even day-old anymore.
They're two days old. But kids won't notice.” I grabbed the cookies and realized I was starving. I hadn't eaten since breakfast. “Take that, too,” Betty said, cocking her head to the other side. “That was a to-go order no one ever picked up.” That didn't sound right. Another takeout order that wasn't picked up? “We'll just throw it away if you don't take it,” she said, placing the dough in a pie plate.

I threw on my coat and ran to the car, opening the sack as the engine warmed. It was a turkey, swiss, and bacon sandwich on rye. I took a bite and sighed. Wow, was it good!

 

Zach held his arm over Haley's chest, keeping her in the seat until the bus stopped. “Remember,” he said, “as soon as the door opens run as fast as you can to the front door.”

“What if she sees us?” Haley asked, holding her pink backpack in her lap.

“It's okay if she sees us,” Zach says. “Just don't make eye contact with her. No one can look the Bat Lady in the eye and live.” He shoved her backpack in front of her face. “Here. Hold this up so you can be safe.” The bus stopped and he jumped up. “Come on. Run for your life.” Haley held the backpack in front of her eyes and bolted for the stairs.

Haley staggered up the driveway and stumbled on the stairs. “I can't see,” she said.

Zach stopped when he saw Mrs. Meredith standing at her door watching them. “Quick,” he said to Haley, rushing for the front door. “The Bat Lady's watching us. Get the key and run in the house.” Haley fumbled for the key under the flowerpot and dropped it into the flower bed. Zach threw his backpack onto the porch and pushed her out of the way, lying on his stomach to retrieve the key. “The Bat Lady could have eaten us by now,” he said. He put the key into the lock and they fell into the house, breathing heavy.

 

The door was unlocked when I got home at four twenty and I stepped inside, yelling for Zach and Haley. “Just a second!” Zach yelled from his room.

“No,” I said, hanging up my coat. “Come now.” They ran down the hall and I walked to the kitchen to start dinner for them. “When you come home from school you
must
lock the door behind you.”

“I forgot,” Zach said. “We were running from the Bat Lady and we ran right into our bedrooms.”

I wanted to laugh. “You can't forget,” I said. “You've been home for thirty minutes and a lot can happen in thirty minutes. You have to remind each other to lock the door. Even when Mrs. Meredith is watching.”

Zach looked upset. I know it felt like I was always yelling at them. I lifted the sack of cookies. “Look,” I said, reminding myself of my own mother coming home from the bakery.
“Cookies. I'll even let you eat one before dinner.” Haley rushed for the bag and I pulled it open, watching her reach inside.

“Chocolate chip!” she said, screeching.

I held the bag in front of Zach but he didn't move. I reached in and handed a cookie to him. “I'm not mad,” I said in his ear. “I just want you and Haley to be safe.”

He took the cookie and shoved half of it in his mouth. “Can we put up the tree tonight?”

I opened a cabinet and pulled out a pot. “Not tonight, Zach. I'm too tired to make that mess.”

“You're always too tired,” he said, shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth. “That's why I brought it in. Look!” He pointed to a corner of the living room where he had dragged our tiny four-foot tree from the deck shed. I sighed. “Mom, everyone has Christmas lights up. Even the Bat Lady has a tree in her front window. Can we decorate it?”

I was defeated. He opened his mouth to say more but I cut him off. “Try doing some homework while I make dinner and then you can decorate some of it.” He dashed down the hallway and I walked to the end table by the sofa to make room for the tree.