Page 17 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

Clarissa took the plates automatically, then paused. Setting them back down, she pulled a bottle of hot sauce from under the counter, stuck it in her apron pocket, and picked the plates back up.

“No one likes his food spicy, does he?” Jeff asked.

Ignoring the comment, she marched to the table. As she set the food down, she risked a glance at his face. It was warm and inviting, making a small part of her melt inside.

“Do you need anything else?” She retrieved the hot sauce from her apron.

“No, you gave me everything I needed. Thank you.”

Nodding, she went back to the counter.

“Sylvia, I need to go in the back and talk to Donna. You got the front?” she asked, walking toward the office.

“Sure thing, Claire.”

She rapped her knuckles on the office door, and Donna sang out from inside.

“Enter!”

Donna’s gray beehive sat precariously atop her head. Reading glasses with a beaded chain perched on her nose. Her desk was littered with stacks of receipts and a ledger, a well-abused calculator at her hand.

“Hey, Donna.”

“Hello, Clarissa, what may I do for you?”

“I was wondering if I could pick up any extra shifts,” Clarissa said.

“Just this week?” Donna asked.

“No, I need more hours overall.”

“I see.” Donna frowned. “Sweetie, you’re already working over sixty hours a week.” Donna removed her glasses, her face taking on a motherly look. “Is everything alright, dear? At home, I mean.”

“Rachel is … she’s not worse but I’m getting worried about her. I want to try and hire a home aide.”

Donna nodded, put her glasses back on, and shuffled her papers. “Well, I can’t give you more waitressing hours, but Marissa was asking to cut back her hours. Do you know how to bake?”

“Bake?” Clarissa asked.

“Pie specifically.”

“Yeah, I know how to bake pie.”

“Good, in that case, you can start taking some of her hours. Can you come in tomorrow at four? I’ll have her show you where everything is and start your training.”

“I’ll be here.” Clarissa perked up. “Thank you, Donna, I really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing. Anything to keep my girls from hookin’. That’s a dirty business that is, not worth the cash. If you’re really down and out, titty bars are better.”

“I’ll—ummm, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good girl.” Donna smiled and turned back to her calculator.

On Clarissa’s way back to the counter, Sylvia blocked her path. Her forehead was creased and her mouth puckered.

“You didn’t ask her to throw him out, did you? I was just messing with you; if you really don’t like him, it’s okay, I’ll stop. But don’t get the poor guy tossed out over it,” Sylvia said.

“What? No, I wasn’t talking to Donna about him.” Clarissa blanched.