Chapter Six

 

The diner was packed with Monday morning zombies waiting for their eggs and bacon with a heavy dose of coffee. I probably resembled them this morning after three days of moving and cleaning. When I woke up Saturday morning I was snuggled against Shepard’s body, his warmth and the blanket keeping the chill off our skin as the November temperatures plummeted to a balmy thirty degrees. He must have set an alarm on his phone before falling asleep, so I wouldn’t be late to work. When I was in the bathroom cleaning up, he handed me a clean t-shirt to wear until I got to the diner to get my uniform from my office. He promised to have the apartment emptied of everything but my personal belongings by the time I was done working at one. He walked me to the diner to make sure I made it safely, since it was still dark, and then disappeared back into the early morning mist. I assumed he had gone back to sleep, but he hadn’t. He went right to work emptying the foyer of his own boxes before Felix showed up to help him move my stuff.

We were a great team and by last night we had everything unpacked and set up in our rooms, including a new bed for him. We took a few hours out of the day yesterday to drive to the furniture store for a new mattress. Since the rooms were large he decided to go with a queen size bed to give himself room to stretch out his six-foot four frame. I teased him mercilessly about how there would be room for two, especially if his mom kept setting him up. He finally threw me on the bed and tickled me until I almost wet myself. He called it even and then took me to dinner at our second favorite place, Pino’s Pizzeria and Hoagie Shop.

I knew he was using the move to distract himself from thinking about the job opening. The application deadline was midnight last night, which meant if no one applied over the weekend, then he was their one and only candidate. He told me he was working hard on putting together a presentation to show them, rather than tell them, how qualified he is for the position. I had no doubt he was qualified. Someone had to step up and take George’s workload, and Shep was the only one with the experience working for the city who was remotely interested.

Being public works director would skyrocket his career, and give him a living wage twice what he’s making now. My hope is giving him a break from rent will keep him from freaking out about paying for his medicine every month. His insurance doesn’t cover much on prescription drugs and his inhalers cost him eighty bucks a piece, and he uses three. There’s no wiggle room in there either. If he doesn’t use them, he doesn’t breathe. When I was on the internet Saturday I found a customer discount card for two of the inhalers. If he printed them off and had the pharmacy scan them when he refilled, the company would cover up to one hundred bucks of his copay, which meant if they kept the program going he would only have one inhaler to cover every month instead of three. Since he had to refill them for the month, we took the printouts to the pharmacy on Sunday to see if they worked. The pharmacist scanned the card, entered some information into the system, and the copay disappeared. I honestly thought he was going to break down in tears right there at the counter. We paid for the one inhaler, and left with all three. We weren’t out the door and he had me under his arm, held against him as he whispered a genuine thank you in my ear.

It did something to me it never has before. Sure, Shep has thanked me thousands of times since we became friends, but the whispered tone of his voice, the way he held me, the intimacy of the moment was different this time. This time, it was charged with an emotion neither of us could explain or wanted to dabble in. At least I didn’t think we did.

The bell tinkled over the door to announce another guest and I glanced up from the list I was making to see Mrs. Violet walk in the door, a notebook in her arms. “Hi, Mrs. Violet, do you want a table?” I asked, searching for an empty one. It wasn’t an easy trick this morning.

“No, dear. I heard a rumor you’ve taken over ownership of this diner,” she said in her usual look down her nose over her glasses teacher tone. Mrs. Violet was involved in just about every group or committee in the city. She had a way of taking control and steamrolling over everyone else who was helping. I don’t think she meant any ill will by it, but often times it caused hard feelings for others. I would have to be careful with what I told her. Her presence made me wonder if there was an ulterior motive to her visit.

“The rumor is true. I took possession of it on Friday. Is there a problem?” I asked, wondering why she was giving me attitude.

“I sure hope not, dear. We were praying you would continue Lucille’s philanthropy to the community and contribute to the annual Thanksgiving dinner for the needy.”

I tapped my chin. “I recall Lucille baking some pies for you every year, am I correct?” I asked, searching the dusty corners of my brain for the information. We weren’t open on Thanksgiving Day, which meant I never saw her pack or deliver anything to the dinner.

“You’re correct. She always supplied us with the pumpkin and apple pies every year. She also helped us in the kitchen by cutting and plating the pie for our guests.”

“Well, I can certainly step up and continue the tradition. I have nothing else to do Thursday. How many pies did she usually bring? A dozen?”

She opened her notebook and ran her finger down a line on the paper. “Oh no, Ivy. Last year she brought fifty pumpkin and fifty apple, but even then, we ran out.”

My heart almost jumped out my throat. “Fifty? As in five zero?” I asked to make sure I heard her right.

She nodded. “Yes, that’s what I said. I was thinking maybe we should have an extra five of each to make sure we don’t run out this year, so fifty-five of each. Is that doable?” she asked, her face hopeful and her hands clenched together in a prayer pose.

“Uh, by this Thursday? As in four days from now?” I asked.

“Of course, dear. Thursday is Thanksgiving. I hate to disappoint everyone who is looking forward to Lucille’s pie. They always say her homemade pie is the best in the city, and they’re not wrong. I hope you have her recipes and her touch to keep the tradition alive.”

I plastered on my fake smile. “I have all the recipes and trained with her for a year on how to bake the pies. I’ve had no complaints yet. I’ll sort out a way to get the pies made by Thursday, not to worry,” I said.

What am I saying? How am I going to make and store over one hundred pies in four days?

She clapped her hands together excitedly. “Excellent! I’ll let the committee know. We’ll need you to arrive at the community center by ten a.m. We serve dinner at one o’clock. Will you be able to make it?”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, still smiling, but wilting inside. What have I done? Suck it up, Ivy. You promised to be involved in the community and continue Lucille’s missions. Here’s your chance.

She patted my hand which lay limply on the counter. “Thank you, dear. See you Thursday!” she called as she swept out the door in a flurry of coattails and skirt swishing.

I was frozen in place for thirty seconds as I ran the conversation backward in my head. She wants one hundred and ten pies in four days…my feet started moving as I ran to the kitchen. “Mason!” I yelled, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “I need serious help!”

He was flipping pancakes when I rounded the corner, out of breath and flushed. He finished piling on eggs and bacon, set it in the window, and hit the bell. “Table two up,” he called.

He wiped his hands on his apron as he addressed me. “What’s put a bee in your bonnet?” he asked, eyeing me closely.

“Mrs. Violet was just here. She wants one hundred and ten pies by Thursday for the community Thanksgiving dinner! She said Lucille always donated the pies.”

He nodded and crooked his finger for me to follow him. He yanked open the door of the walk-in freezer and motioned at two rows of boxes on the shelf. “I figured they would still want the pies, so I ordered them last week. I ordered seventy-five of each, which is more than enough.”

I slapped my hand to my chest. “This is great, thank you for knowing about it, and planning ahead. The problem is, Mrs. Violet just spent ten minutes gushing about how everyone loves Lucille’s homemade pies.”

He closed the door of the freezer again and leaned on it. “Lucille didn’t have time to bake one hundred pies along with the pies the diner requires. She always bought frozen pies, baked them early Wednesday morning, and once cooled she added whipped cream to the pumpkin and caramel drizzle to the apple. You’ll find the info in her office under community support, I believe. It’s a well-kept secret, so I’m trusting you won’t say a word to anyone.”

I grinned and bounced up on my toes. “Are you kidding me? You don’t know how relieved I am to hear all this. I thought for a minute there I was going to be baking pies twenty-four hours a day for the next three days. Whew,” I said, wiping my brow. “I’ll take this secret to my grave.”

He patted me on the back as Melissa hung another order on the wheel. “I’ll move them to the fridge tomorrow morning and they’ll be thawed and ready for baking Wednesday morning. Lucille usually baked all night starting about midnight and then didn’t come in until late Wednesday to check on everyone.”

I eyed the prep area and the cooler. “I suppose it’s the only way to make enough room for all those pies, right? I’ll plan on doing the same then. Do you know how she transported the pies to the community center every year? She wasn’t exactly spry the past few Thanksgivings, but never asked for help.”

“Do you have access to a truck?” Mason asked as he started to whisk more eggs. “She always borrowed a truck. That made it easier to load them.”

“A pickup truck?” I asked and he nodded as he dumped the eggs on the grill and the sizzle drowned out our voices for a moment. “I can ask Shep.”

“Then all you’ll need are the covered bread and donut carriers. Stack the pies ten in each carrier, close the lid, and repeat. We only have six, so you’ll have to make a couple trips.”

“No problem. Thanks for the help, Mason. I wouldn’t survive without you,” I said honestly. “Having this dropped in my lap on top of everything else is stressful.”

He flipped pancakes over with the spat without losing a drop of batter. “Anytime. Glad I could help.”

I waved and wound my way back to the front of the diner to finish my work. I wouldn’t get much sleep Wednesday, but at least I wouldn’t fail my first big test with the community.

 

 

The diner was quiet after a bustling Tuesday evening. I didn’t come in until after six p.m., since I had to be here all night and into the early morning hours to bake pies. The cash register told me we had done a lot of business today. I was never more grateful to the people of Bells Pass for supporting me. At nine we had a men’s group from the Lutheran church come in for pie and ice cream to finish off their meeting. I knew they could have had snacks at the church, but I was grateful they decided to visit the diner instead. It made my heart happy to know I had the support of everyone in the community and didn’t have to worry about anyone feeling slighted by the decisions Lucille made.

There was a knock on the door and I turned, peering into the darkness outside. I locked the door ten minutes ago when the last customers left, hoping to get all my closing work done by eleven and start on the pies. I only had until four-thirty a.m. when Mason came back in to get all the pies baked and in the cooler. I didn’t have time for distractions. I peered closer. Okay, maybe I had time for this distraction.

Shep stood at the door waving wildly, his hair blowing in the wind where it stuck out from under his hat. His coat flapped open in the breeze and I realized the wind must have picked up since I arrived, making me wonder if the first snow of the season would arrive as suggested by the weatherman this morning. I hurried to the door and flipped the lock to the left, yanking the door open.

“Shep, it’s late,” I said. “Is something wrong?”

He stepped through the door, flipped the lock closed, and grabbed me in a bear hug. “No, nothing is wrong. I just wanted to see you.”

Instinctively, I hugged him back. “Did you have a date tonight I didn’t know about?” I asked confused.

His arms held me tightly and he nodded his head. “Yes, but not the kind you’re thinking. I met with Mayor Tottle and the council tonight to discuss the position.”

I leaned back. “Shep, why didn’t you say anything?” I asked, swatting his arm. “Come on, I’ll get you some pie and coffee and we can talk.”

He slid his butt over a stool and I noticed he wasn’t wearing his usual Levi’s. He was wearing suit pants and I suspected when he shucked his overcoat, a shirt and tie would be hiding underneath. I had to admit, I liked the way he looked in a suit. It gave him a professional, no nonsense look of a man who knew his stuff.

I scooped him out a piece of cranberry walnut pie and poured him a cup of coffee, then took the last piece of caramel apple pie for myself. I joined him on a stool, where I shoulder bumped him.

“I like the way you clean up, Mr. Lund,” I teased.

He sipped his coffee and grinned at me. “I took you to the senior prom in a suit. I think you can handle a tie.”

“It’s true, but our prom was seven years ago and I haven’t seen you in one since.”

He laughed, while he chewed his pie. “I’ll give you the point there. Maybe, if I luck out, I’ll have to wear one more often when I represent the city.”

“Tell me about it? When will you know? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you ask me to help you prepare?”

He laid his fork down and put his arm around my shoulders. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“And you haven’t answered any of them,” I said, removing his arm from my shoulder.

“Tough crowd tonight,” he mumbled, picking up his cup.

I put my hand on my hip. “Let’s start with why you didn’t tell me.”

He sighed. “I didn’t want to jinx it. You know I’m superstitious. I didn’t need to practice preparing. I had my presentation ready and let it speak for itself. The players attending were me, the mayor, and the council. We had a good discussion about where I see the city in the next five years, how I would achieve getting us to the end point in those five years, and what I would expect of them as support for a new person in this position. As far as finding out their decision, could be in five minutes, could be tomorrow, could be Friday, could be in the form of a thanks, but no thanks, letter. When I left they were going into a closed session to discuss hiring matters. They told me they would let me know when they knew.”

I rubbed his back, sensing the anxiety rolling off him as we sat together. “Whatever they decide, you did your best and had the best interest of Bells Pass in your heart. They’ll either see it or they won’t, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of doing the job. It means they aren’t capable of setting aside their own preconceived ideas to see your potential.”

He stared into his coffee cup, a smile on his face and half a laugh bouncing through his chest. “I knew I came over here for a reason. You always have a way of telling it like it is and still be right on the money.”

I stared into my cup, too. “It might be the one and only thing my good for nothing mother ever taught me.”

He put his arm around me again and kissed my temple, a silent affirmation of the truth.