Page 77 of Haunt Me

"I don't have any restaurant experience."

"You didn't have any this morning either."

"I've never waited tables."

"You'll learn."

I glance around the diner. The rush is over now. A few regulars linger over coffee, and Eddie is humming to himself in the kitchen as dishes clatter in the sink.

It isn't glamorous. It isn't what anyone back home would've imagined for me. But for the first time in my life, someone isn't offering me a future because of my résumé, my grades, or my parents. She's offering because she watched me work.

And she thinks I belong here.

"What do you think?" Marge asks gently.

“What are the hours?”

“Whatever we agree on. I need help with breakfast and lunch most days. Weekends get busier when the slopes are open.”

“I’m studying for my permit.”

“We have tables.”

“I need time to figure out where I’m going to live.”

“June’s not kicking you out of the motel, is she?”

“No.”

“Then you have time.”

She says it so easily as if time is something I’m allowed to sit with instead of something I have to fill.

“I don’t know for sure how long I’m staying in Ashbourne, though.”

Marge picks up a clean mug and places it on the shelf. “I’m offering you a job, honey. Not asking you to swear a blood oath.”

“That’s good.” A laugh escapes me. “I’m not prepared for that level of commitment.”

“Neither am I. The paperwork would be a nightmare.”

I look around again.

A week ago, I sat in the booth by the window with one suitcase and no idea where I’d sleep. Today, there’s a motel key in my pocket. A pink scooter is waiting at the garage. And now I have a job offer.

“When would I start?”

Marge’s smile softens. “You already did.”

“Does that mean you’re paying me for the last hour?”

“Look at you, negotiating already.”

“I was almost a lawyer.”

“Then I’d better watch myself.” Marge gives me a genuine smile as she unties the black apron around her waist, reaches beneath the counter, and pulls out a clean one. The fabric is stiff and still carries the folds from wherever it was stored. She passes it to me, and I reach out to take it.

The gesture shouldn’t feel significant. It’s just an apron and a job in a diner. A decision I hadn’t known I was going to make when I woke this morning.