Chapter Four
Charlotte
Four a.m. came early the next morning. Charlotte had stayed up late talking to her mom, who’d reassured her and told her not to worry, but Charlotte’s shoulders still weighed a thousand pounds as she staggered downstairs to open up the kitchen before the morning rush.
“It was just a little fall. No harm done.” Her mother’s tone had been light…too light. “We’ll see you at Christmas.”
A week. Charlotte had to wait seven days to see her mom and decide for herself how things really were. She wanted to fix things, make it all better, but she couldn’t, and she hated it.
She gave the espresso machine a hard slap, channeling her frustration into making the stubborn machine wake up. It shuddered to life, and Charlotte made herself an espresso, hoping it would slap her awake in turn.
When she caught herself picking at her fingernails while thinking about her mother, Charlotte threw herself into her work. By five, she’d pulled all the chairs down from their tables, checked all the salt and pepper shakers, and fired up the oven for Mr. Bzdyl so it’d be warm when he arrived to make biscuits and rolls.
The work was monotonous, the same routine every day. Keeping busy was comforting, though. Charlotte could follow her open checklist without even looking at the note Mrs. Bzdyl had posted on the fridge. She was just starting coffee in the industrial coffeemaker in the back when Evangeline and her parents came in through the service door. Evangeline had snowflakes in her hair.
“It’s really coming down out there,” she said. “This is good for business.”
Charlotte left the kitchen to take a look. Snow was swirling in the light over the café’s front door. She still couldn’t get used to the sight. Growing up in Phoenix meant snow was a fairy tale in someone else’s life.
She shivered and went back to the kitchen, frowning. Just looking at the snow made her ache for a sixty-degree Christmas. “Why is a blizzard good for business?”
Mr. Bzdyl grunted a laugh. It made his paunchy stomach shake. “This? A blizzard? No, just a little snow shower. Now, back in Poland? I could show you what a real blizzard is.”
Evangeline grinned. “We know, Papa, we know. And you had to walk through six feet of snow to go to school in the winter.” She winked at Charlotte. “But, really, this is pretty light snow. Why it’s good for us is some skiers don’t like to ski when it’s actively snowing, so they’ll wait it out here. The snow should stop before lunch.”
Charlotte forced a smile. Another crazy-busy morning. Oh, well. At least I won’t have time to wring my hands over Mom.
Sure enough, as soon as they unlocked the front door at seven, there were already four tables’ worth of people waiting. Charlotte and Evangeline exchanged looks and hurried to seat everyone.
By the time it was eight thirty, they were running a twenty-minute wait and the café had grown stifling. A bead of sweat ran down Charlotte’s back, and her hair was damp. She took a second by the pickup window to swig some ice water. Mr. Bzdyl set plates of bacon, eggs, and pancakes onto the counter.
“Order up for lovely Charlotte,” he sang, hand over his heart.
A snort from the other side of the kitchen made Charlotte laugh. Mrs. Bzdyl was busily working on lunch prep at the far corner. “My husband, the poet.”
“Oh, darling Agnieszka, maker of delicious sandwiches, my heart beats only for thee.” Mr. Bzdyl gave his wife a bow, before adding something in Polish that made Mrs. Bzdyl flush and throw a dish towel after him.
Charlotte, laughing harder, put her dishes on a tray and hefted it onto her shoulder. What would she give for a love like that someday? She didn’t need it now, but later, after med school, she could do with a soul mate.
She ran the tray to a large table of what she could only describe as “bro-dogs.” Six twentysomething guys in expensive ski gear with a vibe that was distinctly rich frat boy with bad manners, all of them talking so loudly that they overcame the din of the busy diner.
“And there I was,” one crowed, “completely naked and—”
Charlotte, catching an alarmed look from a mother at a table with two tween boys who were watching the bro-dogs with avid interest, plopped the guy’s plate down in front of him. “I believe you had the egg white Denver omelet?”
He looked up at her, eyes sparking with something that made the back of Charlotte’s neck prickle. “I sure did, sweetheart.”
A wave of disgust coursed through Charlotte’s stomach as his gaze roamed, and he leaned forward to do the old “accidental boob graze” before she had a chance to dodge him. Charlotte tensed, her bones practically humming with rage, and pulled away to deliver the rest of the plates. She had the whole table’s attention, most of it consisting of smarmy frat-boy grins and a few leers. “I’m going to have to ask you to watch the language while you’re here. We’re a family establishment.”
The boob-grazer’s eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck cares?”
The room had gone really quiet for such a crowd, and Charlotte flushed. Now she had everyone’s attention. “I do. And we reserve the right to deny service to anyone. So, maybe you should fill that mouth full of eggs and stop embarrassing yourself.”
With that, she spun on her heel and went back to the kitchen, appreciative murmurs following in her wake. When she made it out of sight, she leaned against the wall. Her hands were shaking. If she got fired for running her mouth…well, she’d have to find another job, and that would suck.
Evangeline came hurrying around the corner, eyes wide. “You really put those assholes in their place. Good for you.”
Relief made Charlotte’s shoulders sag. “I’m not fired?”
“God, no.” Evangeline laughed. “Girl, if you work around this town long enough, you’ll realize if you don’t stand up for yourself, you’ll be run over by all the rich jerks who think they own Aspen.”
Charlotte let out a long breath and clenched her fists to stop her hands from shaking. “Thanks. I promise not to mouth off to all the customers, just the worst offenders.”
“Fair enough.” Evangeline patted her arm. “Must dash. I seated a table of eight, and I’m sure they want their drinks yesterday.”
Still fuming, Charlotte went to pick up the orders for the bar. It wasn’t enough that walking across campus at night alone posed a risk. Now she had to deal with gropers at a café that sold chocolate chip pancakes, for God’s sake. In front of a busy room, at that. What the hell?
She scurried from table to table, ignoring the six-top and the smirking guys sitting around it. She was too busy to deal with them, and she sure hoped they paid cash so she wouldn’t have to run a card.
After another trip to the kitchen, she finally decided to face the table. Be chill. But when she went over with the check, they were gone. No money on the table, nothing. They’d dined and ditched, probably because she’d embarrassed them.
Red clouded Charlotte’s vision. She turned and saw the last of them hurrying out of the front door. No one ditched a check at this café. No one. Without thinking, she yelled, “Hey!” and took off after them.