by Dana Marton
Jimmy was attending GED classes, and she helped him with his studies. He was a twenty-year-old drifter with a killer mohawk, trying to make something of himself at last. He reminded Kate of her sister, probably because he was the same age as Emma. He talked about the same bands Emma always raved about, the same kinds of movies.
Kate thought about the talk she was supposed to have with Murphy Dolan. They hadn’t set an exact time. “I can stay an extra hour. If Eileen is still busy in the office, we can just walk over to the library.”
She picked up three plates of burgers and fries with the special sautéed mushroom sauce that was the diner’s specialty.
“You da best,” Jimmy called after her as she walked through the swinging doors with the tray.
She nearly collided with Delia, the other new waitress, a buxom brunette in her early thirties. She had a Betty Boop kind of vibe going, and she played off that with her hairstyle and clothes, which brought in pretty good tips from the male customers.
Kate flashed her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“You’re fine. I saved the last slice of chocolate mousse pie under the counter.” Delia winked at her as she stepped aside.
The two of them stuck together, Delia especially eager to make friends. She'd moved to Broslin from Jersey to be closer to her boyfriend. She planned on staying, while for Kate this stop, like the others, was temporary.
She smiled her thanks. “You’re an angel.” They could share the pie with a cup of coffee later. Traffic ebbed and flowed, giving them time now and then to rest their feet.
Eddie Gannon, the town handyman slash snow plow operator was sitting at the counter with his giant mug that Eileen was refilling for him. He rented the small apartment above the diner, and because he plowed the diner’s parking lot first when it snowed, he got free refills. He waved at Kate.
“Hey, Eddie.”
Antonio had come in, she noticed, sitting in his usual spot in the corner. He drew the eye for sure, wearing a flawless Italian suit and designer leather shoes.
He let his gaze travel over her lazily, a slow smile stretching his sexy lips. Antonio didn’t do anything in a hurry. He ate his pie and drank his coffee as if eating was an art form. The waitresses speculated plenty about the kind of things the man could do with those slow, lazy hands of his.
“Ciao, Bella,” he greeted her in a faint Italian accent, repeating it in English, in a huskier tone. “Hello, Beautiful.”
Kate smiled back. She couldn’t not. He was a traveling businessman, stopping by the diner every couple of days. He always sat at one of her tables. He was so hot he could have sold things on TV that weren’t butter.
“New haircut? You look extra special beautiful today.” The man was a hopeless flirt. He sold high-end European chocolates to specialty stores on the East Coast and brought samples for the waitresses sometimes.
“Thanks. The usual?”
“Why the rush?” He put on a hurt expression. “Come sit with me. A man’s heart needs the balm of the company of a beautiful woman. Why do we live if we can’t have even that?”
“I’m supposed to be working here.”
“Nobody seems to be in need.”
She glanced around. A few customers had left in the last couple of minutes. The ones eating seemed content. Since nobody was waiting for her, she sat.
The boss wouldn’t mind. She liked it when the employees were friends with the customers. Eileen wanted people to feel at home at the diner.
Antonio’s chiseled face lit up. He reached down for a package at his feet then settled it on the table between them. The picture on the box showed a fancy hot chocolate machine. “It’s yours. A gift.”
Wow. She might have stared googly-eyed for a second before she gathered herself. “I can’t take this. It’s too much. Thank you for thinking of me, though.” But, oh God, she wanted it. Saliva gathered in her mouth just thinking about what she could do with a machine like this—double truffle chocolate mocha, for starters.
“We are friends, no?” He tilted his head, his fashionably cut thick black hair framing his handsome face.
“Yes.”
“Friends can give friends gifts.”
“It’s too expensive.”
“It didn’t cost me anything. I have two dozen from the company to hand out as promotional gifts.”
Honest to God, her heart beat faster. Still, wouldn’t accepting a kitchen appliance imply something? He was hot. She was lonely. But she wasn’t sure if she wanted more between them than the casual friendship they shared at the moment. Making real connections or putting down roots wasn’t a good idea. She’d be moving on in a few weeks.
He flashed a rakish smile. “If you had this, you could invite me over for some hot chocolate.”
She closed her eyes for a second. “I don’t even know where I’ll be living tomorrow this time.”
“Trouble?” He leaned forward, instantly solicitous, taking her hand.
She pulled it away after a second. “Don’t even ask. Landlord wants the house back.”
He offered his help, and they talked for another minute before a young couple walked in, and she had to rush off to seat them. She took their order, handed it off in the kitchen and picked up Antonio’s pie and cappuccino. She served him, but they didn’t have time to talk further as a busload of retirees arrived, on a field trip to Longwood Gardens and the antique shops up on Route 30.
By the time she caught her breath again, Antonio was gone, the hot chocolate super machine left on the table, along with a generous tip.
She couldn’t just leave the box there. New customers were coming in. But she was definitely going to have another talk with Antonio about this the next time he stopped by. She didn't want him to think that the gift would buy some kind of personal relationship with her.
As Kate flew past the counter, Eileen wiggled her eyebrows. The boss was close to retirement, but still had the energy of a woman half her age. Her graying hair, usually in a French braid, would fly behind her as she darted around the diner to serve her customers. She always had a smile on her face and at the moment it stretched extra wide. “Things heating up with Antonio?”
“Maybe.” Maybe a quick affair with a hot guy wouldn’t be a terrible thing.
“He does have a way of looking at a woman, doesn’t he?” Eileen fanned herself with her hand, but then turned serious. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but did you say you were having trouble with your rental? Is everything okay?”
Kate summed up her situation in two sentences. “Not a big deal. We’ll figure it out.”
“I didn’t realize you were renting from Murph.”
“I didn’t either.” Which was the problem, obviously.
“He’s one of the good ones. All the way. I mean, Antonio is nice, but Murph is the real deal. When I broke my wrist last spring, he came and dug up my garden for me. He’s single.” Eileen smiled innocently.
“Jeez.” Kate glanced around the room. “I better see to table three.”
When her 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. shift ended, she walked across the road with Jimmy. Two delivery trucks had blocked the parking spots on the diner's side street when she’d come in that morning, so she’d parked by the bank across the road. She never parked in the diner’s back parking lot. Too secluded.
She didn’t like places where she was isolated or could be easily trapped if Asael caught up with her.
She drove Jimmy over to the library and they did calculus for an hour, while in the back of her mind she worried about Murph.
Jimmy happened to mention that the apartment next to his just freed up. Maybe she should go take a look, maybe they wouldn’t require a credit and background check, she thought as she drove to the mechanic shop on her way home. While she’d been with Jimmy, Fred had called to let her know that the part her heater needed was in. With the worst of winter still ahead, heat in the car was kind of an important thing.
Behind Arnie’s Gas Station, the gray, cement block shop
consisted of three bays and an office in the back. The air smelled like motor oil, the floor had some grime to it, but the locals didn’t seem to mind. No frills, no thrills, decent prices.
She liked Fred Kazincky. He was a retired mechanic, working his way down to Florida. He took temporary jobs along the way, only staying in one place long enough to make money for the next leg of his journey. Kind of like her.
He wiped his oily hands on his blue work overalls as he spotted her walking in. “There you are.”
He was about her height, his movements stiff from arthritis, his face lined, carrying the mark of a life fully lived. “Want to leave the car? You could pick it up tomorrow after work. Jackie’s coming off shift at the register, I’m sure she’d give you a ride home.”
“That’s okay. I’d rather walk.”
The house she rented waited just a few blocks away and the Pizza Palace stood halfway between, selling not only fresh-made pizzas, but all the ingredients right in the store for people to make their pies at home whichever way they liked. The store even sold pizza stones and offered lessons. She wanted to pick up a couple of things and didn’t want to hold up Jackie.
Fred looked unconvinced. “You sure? She’s a nice gal. She’d be happy to do it.”
“I’m sure. I could use some fresh air.” And some more time to think. She wasn’t looking forward to a clash of wills with Murph.
In fact, cooking him dinner might go a long way toward encouraging him to let her keep her lease.
Fred nodded. “I’ll look at the brakes, too. From the sound they made when you pulled in, they might need some help.” He lifted a hand. “Not trying to talk you into something expensive. But you don’t want bad brakes, eh?”
“Can we keep it on the cheap side?”
“You bet. How are they treating you at the diner?”
“You know Eileen, she’s a regular den mother. But I seriously need to get away from those pies.” She patted her midriff.
“I could always teach you how to be a grease monkey.”
She couldn’t help laughing at that. “I’m not sure I have enough years left on earth. I’m not exactly mechanically minded.”
“You can do anything you set your mind to, young lady.”
He was always this nice, reminded her of her father. Sometimes, when she worked second shift, 2 p.m. to 10 p.m., she brought him pie that Eileen was clearing out of the glass display case at the end of the day. Fred usually picked up extra hours, working at the gas station after the mechanic shop closed for the day. He was around most evenings and loved a late dessert.
He returned the favor by cutting her a break on car expenses, since her clunker seemed to need fixes pretty frequently.
She switched cars often, finding her vehicles from private sellers so as to leave the least trail possible. But that meant no recourse and no warranties. Still, it was more important to be safe.
She talked to Fred another minute or two, asking about his bad knee, telling him about her landlord’s unexpected arrival and Murph's reluctance to let her stay. Fred offered to have words with the “young man.” She declined the offer, but it was nice to know that someone had her back.
Before she left, she grabbed the bag that held Antonio’s gift. No way was she leaving that.
On her way home, she stopped by the Pizza Palace. She was going to charm Murphy Dolan into letting her stay, if it was the last thing she did.
The three boys loitering across the street by the closed flower shop checked her out with some exaggerated leers, egging each other on. They were probably in their late teens, twenty at most. The fact that they outnumbered her gave them enough courage for a couple of wolf whistles.
They did the same when she came out with her purchases: fresh dough, hand-made mozzarella, fresh vegetables. She ignored them and hurried on her way, wishing she were wearing pants instead of her short uniform skirt. The wind had picked up while she'd been inside, attacking her in icy gusts. She was ready to get home, and not just because of the weather.
She told herself not to turn back. Then she did, anyway. The boys had pushed away from the brick wall, looking after her.
She picked up the pace, but soon she could hear their shoes on the pavement as they followed. Her stomach clenched. Ridiculous. She wasn’t going to be scared of some kids. They were just young hoodlums, trying to get a thrill out of harassing her.
But she did wish she was behind her locked front door. And to get there sooner, she turned into the short alleyway up ahead. Once she cut through, at least she’d be on her own street.
* * *
On his way home from the station, Murph stopped by his brother's place.
“So about the tenant,” he said after they exchanged greetings, sitting out in the garage where Doug had an old couch and a TV set up, along with a kerosene heater. A beat-up fridge in the corner kept the beer flowing. “How did that come about?”
The place was crowded and dirty, dust-filled cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, the garage large enough to hold two cars, plus Doug’s little man-cave in the back. The only place in the house where he could almost do whatever he wanted.
He puffed on his cigarette then hung his head, the light reflecting off the top where his brownish hair had begun to thin. “Needed some extra money to fix the truck. Then this hot chick at Finnegan’s said she was looking for a place to crash….” He put on his best repentant face. “I figured, what would it hurt? You’re my brother. You’d help out if you could.”
The door that led to the house opened, Felicia, Doug’s wife, standing in the threshold, glaring at them. Doug snapped his hand down to hide his cigarette behind his back.
“You need to walk the dog. You both need the exercise.” She let the black lab out, narrowing her eyes. “Are you smoking out here?”
Doug flashed an all innocent look, jerking his head toward the heater. “Kerosene.”
She shot him a look that could curdle milk, then yanked the door closed without another word.
“She’s right. I could use the walk.” Doug patted his potbelly with a sheepish look. “I did put on a couple of pounds.”
Bella, the dog, ran to greet Murph. He scratched behind her ears. “There you are, girl. Look at you. Happy to see me?”
Bella put her front paws on his knees so she could lick his face, the warmest welcome Murph had received in this house yet.
Doug pulled his cigarette back out and drew on it. “Felicia’s been in a mood all week.” He shrugged, then blew out smoke and looked at Murph. “Do you ever miss Mom?” he asked out of the blue.
Murph had to think about it. There wasn’t much to miss, as horrible as that sounded. “I think about her.”
“She used to go after you something fierce.”
“She did.” Doug had always been the golden boy. He was four years younger, had always been their mother’s favorite. Murph looked too much like their deadbeat father, so their mother couldn’t stand him. Nothing he’d ever done had been good enough. Doug had always been the prince, gotten everything their mother had been able to give, including the house when she’d passed.
“She went easier on me,” Doug said in a sentimental tone. “I always thought I had it good.”
“You did.”
But Doug shook his head. “I never learned to fend for myself, not like you.” He took a swig of his beer. “Felicia’s different.”
Maybe. But Felicia could be mean in her own way. Doug had married an overbearing wife because he missed his mother, but Murph had a feeling the marriage wasn’t working out for Doug exactly as he’d expected.
Murph used to be jealous of his little brother back in the day, but now he was beginning to think he might have gotten the better end of the deal.
Doug drew on his cigarette, then dropped his hand, in case Felicia came back. “Hey, maybe now that you’re home for good, you’ll settle down and get hitched.”
“I don’t think so.” Murph didn’t plan on getting married. He hadn’t so much
as lived with a woman. He was very comfortable with the whole solitude thing.
“Kate’s pretty.”
“She’s moving out.”
Doug nodded, bent to tip some ashes into the ashtray he kept hidden under the couch—no matter how many times Murph had told him it was a fire hazard—then looked up. “I already spent her rent money. I can’t give it back.”
“Don’t worry about it. How about if we grab a couple of beers later this week?” Felicia didn’t like it when Doug had people over. She was likely to give him an earful for Murph stopping in unannounced today.
“Anytime, bro. You give me a call.” Doug grinned with relief.
They talked some about what had happened in town while Murph had been gone, what was going on at the lumber yard where Doug sometimes worked. Then, when Felicia came out the second time, glaring at Doug to walk the dog already, Murph took leave of his little brother and drove home at last.
Snow began to fall, swirling in the wind, but not heavy enough yet to snarl traffic. People around here were used to driving in worse. Murph cut through town without any trouble, turned down his street. And saw Kate surrounded by dark shadows at the mouth of the alley.
A switch flipped inside him, and he went into fight mode instantly, his senses sharpening. He didn’t think, just reacted. He pulled the car up, tires screeching even as Kate dropped the bags she’d been carrying and went for her purse.
The gun, he thought, and burst from the car. His weapons were in the bag in the trunk. No time.
One of the boys had a knife out already.
He ran. “Stop!” And jumped between them, his back to her, risking getting shot as he faced her attackers.
They shrank back, eyes jittery—from drugs?—but didn’t scatter. The one in the front, the biggest one, glanced back at his buddies. He was the leader of the alley cat gang. The kid didn’t want to lose face. He looked familiar. Eduardo something.
Murph knew his father, had picked him up before for shoving bottles under his shirt at the liquor store, and on other stupid offenses on half a dozen occasions.
