Table 10: Part 3: A Novella Series

by Jiffy Kate

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  Table 10

  Jiffy Kate

  Table 10

  by

  Jiffy Kate

  Copyright © 2016 Jiffy Kate

  Published by Enchanted Publications

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imaginations and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Enchanted Publications

  www.enchantedpublications.com

  enchantedpublications@gmail.com.

  Visit the author’s website at www.jiffykate.com

  Edited by: Nichole Strauss

  www.insighteditingservices.com

  Cover Design and Interior formatting by

  www.uplifting-designs.com

  Cover images by: Depositphotos.com (stock photo)

  First Edition: June 2017

  Chapter 1

  Kadi

  “Can you get Table 10?” LuAnne asks as she passes me on her way back to the kitchen, dishes overflowing in her hands. “New Girl is falling down on the job.”

  I huff out a frustrated sigh and grab my order pad, stuffing it in the front of my apron.

  Turning toward the table, my heart leaps up into my throat, just like it always does, but I know it won’t be him. It hasn’t been him in over two weeks and with each passing day, I miss him a little more. But that’s all on me. I’m the one who freaked out and ran away.

  I’m still not sure if I did the right thing.

  Because when you do the right thing, even though it hurts, you still feel a sense of peace and that makes it bearable.

  But I don’t feel that.

  “What can I get for you?” I ask the man at the table.

  He looks up at me over the wire rim of his readers and puts the menu down. “I’ll have two eggs over medium, two pieces of wheat bread, lightly toasted, a side of fruit, and a hot tea.”

  He’s definitely not Nathan. Nothing about him is Nathan. Every time someone sits at this table, I want to kick them out. I want to make up some excuse why they can’t sit here—the leg wobbles or it’s dirty. Because without him here, it feels wrong.

  Everything feels wrong.

  “Anything else?”

  “Uh, just a glass of water.” He forces out a smile. “And I’m gonna need a rush on that.”

  “Sure.” I force out my own smile before turning toward the kitchen, hanging his order in the window on my way by.

  “You’ve really gotta get outta this funk you’ve been in,” LuAnne says, nudging me with her hip as she passes. “Also, you have a message up by the register. Some lady called about more pies.”

  Lots of ladies have been calling about pies. I’ve made an extra four hundred dollars in the last week. It’s been great, but I’m seriously exhausted. Staying late at the diner is catching up with me, but I can’t seem to turn down the orders. Even though I don’t need the money right now, I might down the road. Plus, the spark that Nathan ignited is still there. It’s barely an ember, but I feel it—that desire for more.

  The idea that I could open my own place one of these days seems crazy and out of reach. I wouldn’t even know the first thing about opening a business, but that doesn’t mean I don't want it.

  I do. I want it.

  It’s not the dream I was chasing when I came here. Actually, I don’t even remember exactly what I came here for. Whatever it was has been buried beneath disappointment and hard times.

  When I left Humble, I just wanted out. I wanted to start living my life. I wanted to see more, do more, be more.

  Being with Nathan reminded me of that. I started to believe in myself again. I remembered what it felt like to dream. But I also started feeling safe and comfortable. I was getting used to being taken care of. I was getting used to staying at his nice apartment and letting him take me out to restaurants. I was forgetting what it was like to take care of myself, to only rely on me.

  Then, there was the gala. Originally, I was hesitant, because that’s not my scene. I don’t go to fancy parties in fancy dresses and eat fancy food. But I wanted it, because it was important to Nathan. And for a second, I let myself imagine being by his side. And if I’m being honest, I let a little bit of my childhood fantasies take over—pretty dresses, pretty hair, pretty makeup. But instead of being a fairytale, the gala was a nightmare.

  From the moment Nathan called to say he couldn’t pick me up, I started having a bad feeling. It’d probably been brewing for a few days, but I’d been ignoring it and chalking it up to cold feet and nerves. The week leading up to the gala, Nathan had been busy and we hadn’t spent much time together. It was then the walls of our bubble began to dissolve.

  I realized that the life we’d been living for the past month or so—me staying at his place, us playing house—it wasn’t real.

  Everything started going wrong. I felt self-conscious, out of place, and like an imposter.

  And then there was Samantha. I’ll never forget her name, because she’s everything I think of when I imagine the kind of woman Nathan will end up with one of these days. She’s prim, proper, educated, wealthy . . . she’s perfect. And she knew Nathan. I could tell from the way she talked about him. She knew everything about him. She also knew exactly what to say to send me running.

  She played on my weaknesses and I let her.

  But only because I knew what she was saying was true.

  Nathan is a giver.

  He’s always looking for a new project.

  The thing that stuck with me was when she started comparing me to one of his long-time girlfriends from college and how she’d been a project too—Jillian. Samantha said she was at school on a full-ride scholarship, but that she came from nothing. Bless her heart. She told me Nathan took her under his wing and forced them all to treat her like one of them.

  I knew why she told me all of that.

  I got it. I might not be well-educated. I didn’t go to a prestigious university. But I'm not stupid.

  I knew what Samantha thought. I knew she was insinuating that I was Nathan’s new Jillian.

  His new project.

  I felt like running then because I couldn’t let myself be what she was saying. I couldn’t let myself fall for someone who only saw me as charity. I couldn’t be with Nathan, because I was falling so hard and fast and he’d let me, until I was shattered on the ground in a million pieces.

  And then what?

  Who’d be there to put me back together? No one. I’d be back to being alone and left to do things on my own. Just as I was getting ready to make a run for it, Nathan walked up and started doing what he does best—being amazin
g and sweeping me off my feet.

  Again.

  My head and heart were at war that night. My heart was saying Samantha doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She doesn’t know how he makes me feel—safe, cared for, cherished, wanted. She doesn’t know how he looks at me, like I’m the only person on the face of the earth. She doesn’t know our conversations or that we have things in common. She might know Nathan, but she doesn’t know me.

  She doesn’t know us.

  Later that evening, I talked to Nathan’s mother for the first time and she was wonderful, but she also drove home what Samantha had started. She went on and on about Nathan’s love for charitable causes. She told me about the Hendricks Foundation and how Nathan pours himself into the work they do. I could see the pride in her expression. She might not have given birth to Nathan, but she loves him as if she did. Her love is one born of the heart.

  The last thing she said to me was that once Nathan gets something in his head, he just can’t let it go until he sees it through to the end.

  Was she talking about me?

  Was she also trying to tell me that I was just a new project for him? A charitable cause?

  I don’t know.

  But I couldn’t wait around to find out.

  “Earth to Kadi,” LuAnne says, snapping her fingers. “Listen, I can’t have you off in your head all day like you’ve been the past week and have the new girl messing shit up too.”

  “Sorry,” I tell her, taking the plate she’s holding out.

  “Table 10 wants his eggs, like yesterday.”

  “Right,” I tell her, walking aimlessly toward the counter, still trying to shake myself out of the funk LuAnne mentioned and the fog of my exhaustion and the thoughts of Nathan.

  “You still thinking about Nathan, honey?” she asks, stepping in my path.

  “No, I just didn’t get much sleep last night,” I lie. “I’ve been down here the last few nights working on pie orders.”

  “You know that man would shit a brick if he knew you were down here working at ungodly hours and walking home by yourself.”

  “And what choice do I have?” I ask, walking past her and out to my tables.

  I need to stop the fantasies and get back to real life.

  Chapter 2

  “Man, that lunch shift was brutal.” I lean against the counter and fan myself with a menu.

  “You handled it like a boss today. I think I even saw a genuine smile once or twice. Could it be that the old Kadi is finally back and you’re over whatshisname?” LuAnne asks.

  LuAnne’s teasing is how she shows she’s concerned and it makes me feel guilty for how I’ve behaved at work lately. I’ve never been a fan of someone who brings their problems to work and that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

  “Well, I don’t know if I’ll ever be over Nathan, really, but it seems to be easier today for some reason. Maybe it’s because I finally slept more than four hours last night and I’m feeling slightly more human.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m glad to see a little pep in your step again. I hate seeing you all sad and shit. That’s Carla’s job.” She smirks, but I see the sincerity there. This is the most LuAnne has opened up to me in quite a while. She’s never been one to talk about feelings. Her philosophy is that we’ve all got problems, so why bring them up. We just come to work, do our jobs, and get on with life.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been in such a slump lately. But now that I’ve caught up on my pie orders and sleep, hopefully, I’ll be a little easier to work with,” I say with a chuckle.

  “Oh, you’ve been fine, just a little quiet and occasionally in a daze, but on your worst day you're still better than Carla and the new girl put together.” She stops wiping the counter down and looks up at me. “You’re not done making pies for good, are you?”

  “I hope not. I just don’t have any new orders this week.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be back for more. In the meantime, take a little of that hard-earned money and do something nice for yourself, like get a massage or a pedicure. You’ve earned it.” She tosses the towel at me before heading into the kitchen.

  Sighing to myself, I pick up where she left off with the tables.

  I’d love to take LuAnne’s advice, but I’m afraid to. I don’t want to take one penny out of my newly acquired savings account unless I absolutely have to.

  The bell on the front door chimes and I look up to see Gary walk in with today’s mail.

  “Afternoon, Gary. How’s the post office today?”

  “Same as usual, Kadi, full of letters and crazy people,” he says, winking at me.

  “Are you referring to the workers or the customers?”

  “Both, depending on the time of day.” He laughs loudly while setting down the mail he has for the diner. When he reaches into his bag for more, he pulls out a thick envelope. “I have a registered package for a Miss Kadance Davis. Sign here, please.”

  It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s serious. I’ve never received something through registered mail before. It looks very official and, for some reason, that scares me.

  “Are you sure it’s for me? Who is it from?”

  Gary squints as he reads the label. “It’s from a Hendricks Holdings and it’s most definitely addressed to you.”

  Nathan.

  My mind swirls trying to figure out what he could’ve sent me. I’m almost positive I didn’t leave anything at his apartment or in the hotel room. That was weeks ago, anyway. Wouldn’t he have sent it sooner or just thrown it away?

  “The sooner you sign the paper, the sooner you can open it, Miss Kadi,” Gary reminds me.

  “Oh, of course! Sorry.”

  I quickly sign my name and take the package, absentmindedly waving to Gary as he walks out the door.

  I’m not sure how long I stand there, staring at the manila envelope. My eyes are fixed on the name on the front, I can’t take my eyes off it. When the bell chimes again, I practically jump out of my skin, shoving the envelope under the counter for safe keeping.

  “I’ll be right with you,” I call out to the elderly couple as they find a place to sit.

  Just when I feel like I have my shit together, Nathan sends me something and totally messes with my groove. I’m dying to know what’s inside but I can’t open it yet. Not here, not now.

  Table 10

  “So, what’s in the package?” LuAnne asks as we pass in the kitchen. The last few customers just left and she turned the sign to closed.

  “I have no clue.”

  “Well, aren’t you gonna open it and find out?”

  I walk back to the counter and grab the envelope and then back to the kitchen, stuffing it in my bag by the back door for safe keeping.

  “I’ll open it later.”

  “Are you afraid or something?” LuAnne asks. “I’ve never known you to shy away from anything.” She points to my bag, gesturing to the envelope inside and the man who sent it. “He’s definitely got some sort of magic powers. Or maybe he’s got a magic—”

  “LuAnne,” I say, cutting her off.

  “I’m just sayin’.” Raising her hands in surrender, she walks back out to the front of the diner. “Open the damn envelope. The suspense is killing me.”

  “Later.”

  Grabbing the broom, I busy myself with the tasks at hand. I know I should just open it and get it over with, but I can’t. Later, when I’m at my apartment, I’ll open it, but for now, I want to stay ignorant to its contents. Maybe I’m prolonging the inevitable, because once I open it, it’s done.

  But I’ve missed having a connection with Nathan. And as small as it is, that’s what the package represents right now. It’s childish and ridiculous, but I can’t help it. The bottom line is: I miss him.

  And maybe I am afraid.

  Of what, I’m not sure.

  I once read that behind every fear is a wish.

  As I go about mindless duties, I let my myself think on that. What do I wish for —happ
iness, safety, acceptance, love? All the things I felt when I was with Nathan.

  Part of me wants to forget about everything and go to his apartment, begging him to forgive me for running out like a scared little girl. I’ve thought about the last night we spent at his apartment a dozen times over the past few weeks. What I wouldn’t give to go back there. I wish I could go back.

  And then what?

  Not go to the gala?

  Stay in the dark about who Nathan really is and what his intentions with me were?

  I never really let him explain, but I didn’t want to hear the rejection. So, I shut him down first. I protected my heart the best way I knew how and I walked out of that hotel room, before he got a chance to validate my fears.

  And this is when my brain kicks my heart out the door and slams it shut, deadbolting it—chains and all.

  LuAnne manages to keep quiet about the package and Nathan for the remaining time we’re at work. Just as I think I’m going to escape with a simple goodbye and head to my apartment, the phone rings. I pause and look over my shoulder toward the phone, but LuAnne completely ignores it.

  “Aren’t you gonna answer that?” I ask.

  “Leave it,” she commands, grabbing her purse with keys in hand.

  The ringing continues and I can’t leave it.

  Why would anyone be calling the diner this late? It has to be for a reason, right? My instinct—or maybe plain curiosity—drives me toward the phone while LuAnne huffs, “It’s just a wrong number or someone selling something.”

  When I answer it, I’m relieved I listened to my instincts.

  “Kadi?”

  “Dad?” My father’s voice sounds nervous. He calls me at the diner, but something’s not right. He never calls this late. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  I stare at LuAnne’s questioning face while I take in the information my father gives me without saying a word. It’s hard to process everything he’s saying but once he’s finished, I reply “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “What’s wrong, honey?” LuAnne asks.

  After hanging up the phone, I calmly follow her out the door even though my mind is racing and my heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest. It’s funny how your entire world—what you thought you knew and how you thought you felt—can be wiped away with only a few words. I’m not sure if I’m acting on impulse or out of obligation, but I know what I have to do.