by Cheryl Wyatt
She quickly recovered and spun to take a tray of food to customers.
Darin’s eyebrows rose. “What’s that about?” He nodded toward Olivia.
“Who knows?” Jack grinned, remembering Olivia’s blush when he caught her openly scowling at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
Darin laughed. “Right. Figuring women’s feelings out requires at least a PhD in physics, surgical access to their brains, and an engineering degree, none of which I will ever have.”
Jack paused. Something in his tone told him Darin believed that. “Hey, you’re more intelligent than you give yourself credit for.”
Darin paused in scraping the sizzling grill. “Thanks, but all my life I was told the opposite.”
Jack’s compassion surged for Darin. He determined to offer encouragement, at least to Darin. He wasn’t one to fish for compliments, and in fact, the linebacker-sized, tatted-up guy appeared to cringe at Jack’s admonishing words. “I believe in you, man.”
As Olivia swept past with a second tray of food, her head whipped around at Jack’s words. Surprise was clearly evident in her eyes. In fact, she almost dropped the tray.
Just what did that say about Jack and her poor impression of him?
Better question—why was he concerned about her impression of him at all?
He shoved the thought out of his mind and, as he often did, said sternly to the crew, “Get your boots back to work.”
That they smiled and resumed their tasks meant he’d let too much of his soft side show.
He turned and eyed the clock. Olivia was supposed to be on break by now, but he was glad she was helping Naem since folks out shopping in preparation for the winter storm were giving them a surge of business. Still, it probably wouldn’t be enough to replace the deficit the storm would bring, or the lack of business the snow would leave in its wake.
“This is not going to be an easy fix,” Jack muttered when he finished inspecting the unevenly heating grill. He started walking down the hall to get the toolbox. A few steps later, moisture plopped on Jack’s head. His jaw clenched as he paused and peered at the ceiling. Sure enough, water dripped from it.
He had a choice. Fix the grill or fix the ceiling. He couldn’t do both at the same time.
He mopped up the mess, put a bucket under the drip temporarily and grabbed the phone book. Ting-ting-ting-ting. He gritted his teeth at the sound of water pinging stainless steel.
“Jack, I was going on break, but...is there something I can do first or instead?” Olivia’s concerned gaze let him know he needed to hide his stress better.
He was going to tell her no, but the weight of reason kicked in. No sense in not letting her help if she was willing and it could get them past a time crunch. “Can you look up the numbers for roofing companies? Figure out the best one with the most reasonable prices. Ask for references. Have them come take a look.” He gestured to the leak. Then he remembered her struggle earlier and wanted to kick himself for asking her to do something that would humiliate her again.
“Your dad uses Eagle Point Eaves and Gutters. It’s speed dial 4 on the office phone.”
Jack paused. Winced that she knew that and he didn’t. “So, I’m guessing if Dad had the roof repair company on speed dial, he’s had problems with it leaking before today?”
“Yes, recently it’s gotten worse.” She nibbled her lip and wrung her hands.
He shook his head. “The health department would have a fit.”
“Jack, I hate to say this, but the main grill’s not heating at all now,” Darin said while flipping patties from the large grill to the smaller one, which may not hold the volume they needed, depending on incoming orders.
Jack went over, shut the main grill off, instructed Darin to use the small one for the time being and then went to get a plastic tub to catch the leaking water. On the way to the supply room, Naem caught him. “There is an angry customer demanding to see you. Something about the sidewalk not being deiced and his wife almost slipping.”
Jack sighed. He needed to run to town and get more ice melt. Since when did it sleet here this time of year? Oh, well. He couldn’t waste time dwelling on how things were supposed to have been. He needed to focus effort on figuring out how to deal with the unexpected changes, just as he did overseas. “Please call the roofers to come immediately,” he directed Patrice. To Olivia he said, “Catch a quick break.”
The consternation on her face made him wonder if he’d offended her.
He couldn’t worry about that right now. The diner was falling apart around him.
Then he heard them mention Perry and he knew they were thinking what he didn’t want to admit. He could have really used another pair of hands today, even if those hands had shown up late.
Jack only let that thought reach the edges of his brain before kicking it back out.
He wouldn’t budge on his rules. To do so would cause more damage in the long run.
Naem rushed past with a slightly panicked expression and a bin full of dirty dishes, making Jack realize how low they were on clean supplies. He needed to hire someone to replace Perry as soon as possible. He hadn’t had a chance to go through all of the applications from the job ads he’d placed online for local people.
On the way back through, Naem did a double take when he saw the charred wall and coffeemaker. “Dude, what else can go wrong today?” he muttered and shook his head. For the first time ever, Jack saw him without a smile.
“What else can go wrong? Are you serious, Naem? I really wish you hadn’t voiced that out loud. If life has taught me anything, it’s that things can always get worse.”
“Yeah, dude, but they could also always get better, too.”
Jack was trying to figure out a nice way to tell Naem to shut up when his cell phone rang.
When he saw that it was EPTC, his pulse spiked.
* * *
Olivia watched Jack. His usually steady demeanor had been replaced by short, sharp motions and increasingly agitated expressions. It seemed that, like the snow, his aggravation was cumulative. As he tried to maneuver both the phone and the dish sprayer—which she knew from experience had about a 3000-PSI mind of its own and required two hands no matter who was handling it—water shot onto the floor.
Listening to the caller, Jack paused and pressed the phone closer. His face was ashen. “Are things under control now, though?” he asked the caller while continuing to wrestle with the sprayer.
Olivia clicked her tongue. “Stubborn man is going to electrocute himself.” She marched back out of the break room and took the sprayer from his hand, leaving him with his mouth open and his eyebrows furrowed.
She ignored the protest in his expression.
She untwisted the sprayer and aimed it at the dishes, clearing food off in a few back-and-forth swipes of powered water.
After a moment, color returned to Jack’s face. “Okay. Keep me informed of any changes.” He hung up then continued to watch Olivia’s spray-cleanse technique a moment before shoving his phone in his pocket and holding out his hand. “Gimme that thing.”
The urge to laugh probably would have accosted her had she not been worried the phone call was about Sully. Fear prevented her from asking. If there was bad news, Jack would tell her, right?
Right now, he looked only like he couldn’t stand to let the sprayer get the best of him. Or perhaps he just didn’t want to be shown up by someone half his size. She bit back a grin.
Olivia handed over the nozzle but stayed to watch the debacle. That sprayer had taken her months to master, and she was very mechanically inclined. No way was she going to miss out on seeing Jack try to tame it in thirty seconds.
Three minutes later it became apparent the sprayer wanted to go one way and Jack another. He started muttering
angrily under his breath—the sprayer wasn’t giving up easily. Jack’s sleeves and the front of his shirt were soaked.
The day’s stress was beginning to show on him and the rest of the crew. They were starting to snip and snap at each other, which rarely happened. And Jack? He looked beyond overwhelmed. Olivia suddenly felt the inexplicable urge to ease the tension from his eyes.
Maybe she’d made the right choice after all, not telling him about her dyslexia. He didn’t need another thing to stress him out. Plus, he’d treat her differently, which she didn’t want.
He gritted his teeth while wrestling with the industrial sprayer hose as though it were a huge writhing viper. “What is wrong with this stupid thing?”
She smirked at the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone by getting a dig in and maybe making him smile. Mostly though, she just wanted to get a dig in. “Operator error?” she joked.
He glared at her above the wiry, dancing, spouting-sideways hose. “Not funny.”
Realizing her joke had backfired and growing more determined to see him smile, Olivia scrambled for another way to make him laugh. She recalled his and Sully’s running Ford-versus-Chevy debate.
“Okay, then the only other reasonable explanation is that it was probably made by Ford.”
His head whipped up and he blinked at her. His eyes narrowed until he saw her smiling. A flash of humor transformed his face into something exquisite. So much so, it took her aback.
She swiftly turned to get back to work. That wily plan had totally backfired on her. Jack Sullenberger was too cute for her own good when he smiled like that.
Moments later Patrice sidled up next to Olivia, menus in hand. “Did you tell him?”
“No. We got interrupted.” She was glad now that she hadn’t had a chance to go through with revealing her dyslexia to him. “Besides, I’m having second thoughts. I have a feeling it would just make him more impatient with me.” Of course, she could be wrong. She didn’t know him well enough yet to be able to tell how he’d react.
“I’m not sure, either, since he doesn’t seem like himself. Hasn’t since he’s been back. Being overseas has definitely changed him. The Jack I used to know would be understanding.”
“To his credit, it wasn’t fair of me to pretend to be okay reading through Sully’s chicken-scratch writing.” All the letters jumbled together in the middle of the index cards. “My reading techniques helped some, but not fast enough for Jack’s liking.” And fatigue had hastened her miscomprehension.
Her pride hadn’t let her admit her problem to him.
Patrice gave Olivia a pat on the back and an empathetic smile while glancing toward the back where Jack contended with problems. He was hunkered under the utility sink, now glaring at the drainpipe with a wicked-looking wrench and a ferocious expression.
Lord, how can I help? Do I step in? Or stay out of his way?
Olivia pondered this as she started loading bowls and plates into the dishwasher trays so they wouldn’t run out of necessities. It dawned on her that humor was key in managing Jack. When she joked with him, he gave her that incredible smile. It made her want to keep him laughing. Should she? Or would that plan backfire by making her emotionally vulnerable to him in ways she was terrified to be?
Thoughts awhirl, she turned to get clean towels and realized Jack was speaking to someone on the phone again. She grew concerned at the strain in his face as he spoke to what sounded like another doctor.
She tried not to eavesdrop. Hard, since she heard him mention Sully.
It made her wonder again if the previous phone call was in regard to Sully, as well. Panic seized her. She could worry herself into a useless puddle of fear. Or she could pray.
Lord, watch over Sully. Fix whatever’s going on. You are trustworthy and in control.
Dishes started, she turned to wash her hands and realized they were out of soap. She went to grab a refill from the stockroom. Just then Jack let out a sigh and marched out of the office, nearly plowing into her. She nodded to his phone. “Is everything okay with your dad?” she asked.
His jaw tensed. “No. Can you come off break early? I need to run to the trauma center.”
Fear tried to grip her but maybe God had provided a barrier with her prayer because she felt somehow removed from it. Still, if something was wrong with Sully, she wanted to be there, too.
And, yet, she wasn’t family. Furthermore, they were sinking here at the diner and barely able to keep up with Jack present, much less without him. No way could she leave. She swallowed the urge to ask Jack to let her ride with him. What was wrong with Sully? Jack didn’t seem inclined to tell her anything.
“Olivia,” he said in firmer tones. “Can I count on you to do what I asked?”
Her insides roiling with frustration at the situation, and fighting a fresh surge of fear over Sully, she forced calm into her tone. “Yes.”
She couldn’t be with Sully, but her prayers—and by extension God’s presence—could. She said a prayer for Jack, too, since today was one disaster after another and had been all day. Plus, he probably had stress she didn’t know about.
At the door, Jack met an appliance delivery person armed with a clipboard. Jack checked his phone and let out a grunt. “Bring it to the back. Naem, come help Darin load this in. I need to go make nice with the guy whose wife almost fell. Olivia, make sure their meal is free today.”
His crew nodded and dispersed to duty. After checking on the woman who’d nearly slipped and apologizing to her husband, Jack returned to where the guys had unloaded the washer and dryer.
“I’ll need you to sign here in order for the diner to be billed,” the delivery driver said to Jack.
Jack’s head whipped up. “Did the appliance center clerk not tell you?”
“Tell me what, sir?”
“The washer and dryer are being paid for by me. Not the diner.” Jack glanced at his watch. Scribbled a signature onto another form.
“No, sir. She did not pass that along. I’ll have to fill out another form in that case.”
“I don’t have time for that.” Jack reached into his wallet and yanked several hundred-dollar bills out and shoved them toward the man. “Here’s what I have in cash. Send the forms to me digitally and I’ll send the rest of the payment by phone. Do not charge my dad or the diner a cent for these appliances. Got it?”
“Y-yes, sir.” The driver put his clipboard under his arm and pulled out a pen. “At least let me write a receipt for the cash—”
Olivia stepped forward. “I’ll handle getting the receipt. Go ahead,” she motioned to Jack and the door. “Go on.” He needed to check on Sully. She needed him to check on Sully.
Jack wavered. Peered at the cash, then Olivia, then the delivery driver. His jaw hardened. Did he doubt that they’d be honest about the amount? Olivia’s backbone stiffened at the thought.
Why did he automatically believe the worst about her instead of choosing to believe the best first?
With a stern look of warning to them both, Jack rushed out the door, where he set down an A-shaped sign on the walk that said “Caution—slippery.” Then he left in his navy blue Ford Ranger with the US flag and eagle decal gleaming patriotically from the back window.
It connected to Olivia’s realization that keeping Jack laughing was the key to keeping him low key and happy. So far, the only way she’d been able to do so was with the Ford joke. She decided then and there that Sully’s admonishment to torment Jack over his die-hard love of Fords was on the menu and a great, neutral way to keep Jack laughing and lower his stress. Remembering a Ford wall calendar Jack hung in the office, she went in and, snickering in tribute to Sully, wrote FORD=Fix Or Repair Daily on the calendar, then recapped the Sharpie and got back to work. Jack needed to learn how to laugh again.
No wonder Sully had insisted
on a Chevy when he’d helped Olivia purchase a car.
She left the office laughing. So perhaps the jokes were good for lessening her stress hormones, too.
Naem updated Patrice and Olivia on his patrons’ meal statuses and then told them he’d be back as soon as he could, after getting the ice melt for Jack. He counted the bills, showed them to her, Darin and Patrice, then stuffed them in the outer edge of his wallet. “Money out of his own pocket, I’m assuming,” Naem said.
“He also paid for the washer and dryer himself,” Olivia confirmed.
Naem, Patrice, Darin and Olivia all shared a glance. “Things must be bad financially,” Darin said. “If this place goes under, Sully will be crushed.”
“Guys, we can’t let that happen,” Olivia blurted, emotion welling for Sully. How she missed him and missed his advice, even his surliness. She’d give anything for a lecture right now.
“I agree. We need to figure out how to help,” Naem offered.
“Yeah. So let’s put our heads together,” Patrice said, then all three of them looked to Olivia. “If you have any ideas, we’re all ears.”
Why did they always look to her? She was probably the least capable of all.
Yet an idea struck.
Olivia approached the delivery guy. “How much is left on the bill after the cash?”
“Seven hundred dollars, ma’am.”
“Okay. Can you wait a few minutes for the rest?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She told Patrice to cover her tables, then rushed upstairs to her apartment.
Two months ago, Sully had given her a thousand dollars as a Christmas bonus. She’d put it in her cedar jewelry box to help with books for next semester or for emergencies, as Sully had suggested. She counted out seven hundred plus another seventy dollars for a tip for the driver, for having to put up with Jack Sullenberger’s bad mood and untrusting attitude.
She ran back downstairs trying to convince herself she was doing this only for Sully.
It had nothing to do with the growing pool of mercy in her heart for Jack. Nothing at all.
