“What?”
“My story—The Little Baker Girl.”
Star gave him a soft punch on the shoulder. “You’ve never mentioned that title before. You have to show it to me.”
“Okay, but after we have something to eat.”
“No, Mr. Tyler Jackman, A-K-A Superman. Now!” Sliding off her perch, she gave him a warm hug. Remembering the kiss, she quickly backed away, giggling, her face flushed. “Now, Ty. Show me the clip.”
Tyler’s heart was racing. God, she almost kissed him.
“Okay, okay. It’s your story … the little baker girl … her name is Star. The California group loved it. But it’s not finished, she’s a series of frames.” Turning on his computer, the first frame appeared on the big television screen mounted on the wall above his computer. “I drew you as a Kewpie doll.”
“Oh, I love that doll. I had one when I was little … Gran gave her to me.”
“So, I created you cooking your first egg over easy—”
“The one that hit the wall?”
“Yup, then all the stuff with the meatball mini-tarts.”
“Oh, there’s Jane. Perfect … her pink hair glowing.”
“I took some artistic license with the robbery … a serpent grabbing you, and then … well, a tabby with glasses, that would be me, saved you. Then I added your description of the first episode of the bake-off, sitting on the floor watching your pie in the oven. There are some other clips I haven’t finished, but that’s the gist of it.”
Shutting down his computer, he turned to her.
“So, what do you think? OK?”
“Way better than OK. I love it.”
“Whew. Time for some of Mom’s spa … hey, what’s the matter?” Picking up a dishtowel, he dabbed at a tear meandering down her cheek.
“I’m just happy for you. Honest.”
“You don’t look happy?”
“You leave in a week?”
“That’s the plan.”
“You’re not going to stop working at the diner are you, I mean tomorrow or any of the days before you put on your cape, and, and go to save some other damsel in distress?”
“I’ll pick you up every day, bring you home after every shift.”
“Promise?”
“Tyler Jackman’s word is his bond … now, my little Kewpie doll, let’s eat.”
He turned to the slow cooker. He couldn’t look at her. What was he doing? He loved her. He had accepted a job—hours, miles, the whole country away. He jabbed at the buttons on the microwave to warm the bread.
She hadn’t moved.
“Come on, Superman,” he muttered under his breath. “This is the job you’ve dreamed of. You are going.”
Chapter 50
────
“THANKS, TY, FOR DINNER.” Star hopped off the Harley, saying goodnight over her shoulder, not daring to look at him.
Gran was at the door. She waved to Tyler as Star raced by her. Were those tears she saw? Closing the door she heard her granddaughter sobbing. She was lying on the bed sobbing. Star never cried.
Gran knelt on the floor by the mattress, reached out, gently patting Star’s back, trying to comfort her.
“Star, honey, what’s the matter?”
“Everything is the matter, Gran. My world is crumbling in front of my eyes and I can’t stop it.” Star rolled over, sat up against the wall.
Gran held out a tissue, crawled up on the mattress, leaned against the wall beside her. Star laid her head on her grandmother’s shoulder, swiping at her tears.
“You texted me when you and Tyler left the diner. Nothing seemed wrong. What happened?”
“Gran, I’m so mixed up. I don’t know who I am, I don’t know what I want, but it doesn’t seem to matter because it’s all falling apart around me.”
“But, dear, why all of a sudden—”
“Ty’s leaving. He accepted a job in California. Gran it hurts. He’s done everything for me, everything with me—my God, Gran, what am I going to do?”
Star slumped over, laying her head in her grandmother’s lap, tears flowing again. “What’s wrong with me? I thought I was falling in love with Ash. He left me—it hurt—but not like this. Why didn’t I see it—Ty made me laugh, he talked to me, he was open about his dreams, we dreamed together. He’s been there for me all summer. He was with me when I found out there was no prize money. Gran, I think I’m in love with him.”
“Did you tell him you love him?” Gran asked, stroking her hair.
Star sat up, mopping her face with the daisy-flowered blanket. Misery covering her face, her tear-filled eyes looking at her grandmother. “I can’t, Gran. I think he cares about me so I can’t say anything that would put a cloud over his taking a new job, dampen his excitement. He’s wanted to work in the film industry, in animation, since he was a little boy. I have to show him I’m happy for him. Supportive.” Fresh tears erupted.
“Yes, well, I don’t know …”
“He signed a one-year contract. Gran, he’s leaving in a week.”
“I see. A year isn’t forever. I can understand you’re not wanting to tell him you love him … not just yet, anyway. And, well … you said yourself you were shocked how hard the news he was leaving hit you.” Gran sighed.
“I think a little time, time to sort out your feelings, get your feet firmly on the ground—they certainly have been knocked out from under you the past few weeks. But it’s not as if he’s falling off the earth, you know. You can talk on the phone, and there’s the texting thing you two do all the time. Yes, a little space would be good. I do think you can be honest with him. Tell him you care he’s going away. You want to keep in touch. Even suggest when you might see each other again. Christmas would be nice. What do you think?”
“The holidays? Surely he would come home for the holidays.”
“Look at his new job as a blessing. Give you both time to think. And, you have a lot to do here.”
“Yeah, like finding a job.”
Star hugged her grandmother. Kissed her cheek. “Thank you. I think I can make it to the holidays.”
“I know you can, dear.”
Chapter 51
────
IT WAS A ROUTINE DAY—a quick hug and a peck on Gran’s cheek, reminding her she would be a little late tonight—she and Ty were going to take a walk on the beach after closing. Star hurried out the door, Gran calling after her that she’d be down to the diner to share a cup of coffee with Benny.
All routine.
Star threw her leg over the back seat rest of Ty’s Harley, wrapped her arms around him, and laid her head against his back. Ty eased on the gas bringing the Harley to a noisy pitch, swinging away from the curb, roaring up the street.
All routine.
Not!
Star felt Ty’s heart pounding through his ribs.
He felt her heart pounding against his back.
It was the last day they would see each other. He was flying out of Orlando early in the morning, flying to start a new adventure, a new life, fulfilling a dream he’d carried since he was a little boy. A little boy lying on the floor, a box of crayons scattered around him. His chubby fist gripped one color after the other, making marks on a pad of paper almost as big as he was.
On the one hand he was terrified that he might not succeed, on the other exhilarated about the opportunity of joining the group in Burbank. All that, and at the same time a sense of sadness. Why does life have to be so hard? Why does the thrill of achieving your dream have to be accompanied by the angst of loss?
Throughout the day Charlie’s diner rocked. The Wurly belted out song after song, the neon lights jumping in rhythm. Hungry tourists mixed with regulars, standing in a line that snaked out to the sidewalk—the last weekend of summer packed with fun on the beach.
Gran, beating the breakfast crowd, sat with Benny. She ordered a stack of pancakes. Her stomach was a bit jumpy knowing what her granddaughter was going through today—her best fri
end leaving. She cleaned her plate, finished her coffee.
“Same time tomorrow, Benny?”
“I’ll have your coffee waiting, Mary,” he said with a wink.
Gran gave Tyler a hug and wished him great success. As she left, the Butterworth sisters bustled in. Whispering back and forth, they decided to sit at the table with Benny. A family had taken up residence in their favorite booth and they didn’t want to wait. They ordered their usual diet breakfast—pancakes, meatball mini-tarts with spicy cranberry sauce, and an egg over easy.
The younger sister, Hattie, looked up at Tyler as he set their plates, lined up on his arm, on the table. “Tyler, we heard you’re leaving, and my sister and I wondered if we could buy the cartoon on the wall—our cartoon. We just think it looks so cute, and you captured us perfectly.”
“I don’t know. Let me ask Star. She’s the one who had the cartoons framed. I’m sure it will be okay.”
“Of course, Tyler, you have to autograph it for us. Will it be hard to pop it out of the frame?”
“No. I can do it in a jiffy. Enjoy your breakfast … I’ll ask Star.”
Star was flipping an order of pancakes, when Tyler whispered in her ear. She smiled at the sisters.
The sisters left with their treasure, giggling as they strolled out of the diner into a beautiful sunny day.
Then Benny wanted his cartoon. Tyler had to sign it, of course.
Then word began to circulate, that the waiter was the artist of the cartoons on the wall … and the cartoons on the back of the paper placemats … and that he was off to Burbank, California … and that he must be going to work for Pixar, DreamWorks, no, silly … for Disney.
The line had dwindled by ten thirty when Jane, with Manny and Liz in tow, arrived.
Jane saw Tyler signing the front of Benny’s cartoon. She strutted over to Benny, her pink lips bowed sweetly, when she asked Tyler for her cartoon on the wall.
The remaining guests then wanted in on the action. Before lunch the walls were bare, every framed cartoon had been carried out the door—quarters fed to the Wurlitzer on the way in, a signed cartoon under their arms going out.
The placemats were next. Before the late lunch crowd left, exhausted from several hours on the beach, they were not too tired to snatch up a few, with the artist’s autograph as a souvenir of their summer vacation.
Wanda asked Tyler to tally up the register. Most of the guests had paid in cash. Charlie wanted to deposit the bills in the bank, fearing a repeat of the robbery a few weeks ago.
Tyler went through the routine of cashing out the register.
“Hey, Star, There’s an envelope addressed to you,” he called over his shoulder, stuffing the bills in the deposit bag along with tally sheet.
“Where?”
“Leaning between the register and my order pads. Here.” He handed the deposit bag to Wanda, and then waved the white business envelope at Star through the order window.
“Thanks.” Star set the envelope aside against the pepper shaker, flipped three burgers, reached for the buns, laying them on the grill to warm up. Plating the order, the last for the moment, she reached for the envelope. Wiping pieces of onion off a paring knife, she slit the envelope open.
Tyler came around the corner just as Star sank to the floor, leaning against the stainless steel cabinet under the grill. Her fingers were shaking, her blue eyes big as saucers. Tyler dropped to the floor beside her, the heat of the grill warming his already sweaty back.
“What is it? Bad news?”
She raised her hand to his, the piece of paper shaking so badly Ty had to steady her fingers releasing the paper in his hand.
“My God, Star! This is a check for a … a … a hundred thousand dollars.”
Star couldn’t move, only her eyes moved, looking at him. “Do you think it’s real?”
“Yeah. It’s a cashier’s check made out to you, Star Bloom.”
“There’s no signature. Who—”
“It’s drawn on the Bank of America. Star, I’m sure it’s real. Come on. We’ll ask Charlie and Wanda to take over for us … a short break. There’s a branch on the next block.”
Tyler jumped up, extending his hand to Star as she handed him the envelope. Tyler told Wanda they had to go on a quick errand, all the orders were filled.
Star’s heart was pounding. She was sure it would punch through her chest if she didn’t faint first.
There were two people ahead of them at the bank teller’s window. Tyler asked a woman sitting at a computer outside the bank manager’s office, if she had bottled water. His friend felt a little sick. The woman nodded, walked down a hall, returning with an icy bottle.
Tyler hurried back to Star, twisted off the cap. “Here, take a few sips.”
“Ty, it … the check is dated two days ago. It has to be a joke, a very sick joke.”
“You’ll know in a minute. We’re next.”
“May I help you?”
Star laid the envelope on the counter. Her fingers shaking so badly, that Ty reached for the envelope, removed the check, handing it to the teller.
Star leaned against the counter, locked her eyes on the teller. “Is it real?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
The lady picked it up, scrutinized it, her head tilting. “Yes, it’s real. Are you Star Bloom?”
Star nodded.
Tyler put his arm around her as she sank against him.
“Do you have an account with us, Miss Bloom? Proof of identification? Driver’s license?”
Star nodded she did. Pulling her body up straight, sliding off her shoulder bag, she retrieved her checkbook, and handed it to the teller along with her Florida Driver’s license.
“I’d like to deposit the … the check into my account, please,” she told the teller.
“Do you want to break—”
“All of it … please. And, can you tell me who gave me this check?”
“Sure. It didn’t originate at this branch so let me make a phone call. While I’m calling, here’s a deposit slip. You’ll have to endorse the back of the check—write for Deposit Only, and then your name.”
Star picked up the pen the teller gave her, returned her license to her purse, looked up at Tyler, shook her head at how unbelievable this was, and signed the back of the check.
The teller returned, checked the signature and the deposit ticket. She scanned it through a computer returning the credit slip to Star, proof that $100,032 was her new balance. “I’m sorry, Miss Bloom. But the bank has strict instructions that the person who originated this cashier’s check was to remain anonymous.”
“Thank you for checking.”
Star and Tyler strolled out of the bank, sat on a bench outside of the 7-Eleven next door. She called Gran. Repeating the story three times.
“Well, this changes everything, dear. My, my, let me sit, get my bearings. Where are you now?”
“Ty and I are sitting outside the 7-Eleven. He just went in to get me a bottle of milk.”
“Milk?”
“Yeah, he said I need something to settle my nerves. No more caffeine today.”
“Well … I’m going to stay to help you, dear. We’ll go lease that bakery … if I’m going to stay to help you get your bakery up and running … well, we have to get an apartment with walls … and I think we have to buy a car. One car should do it, don’t you think? A little sporty model. Red.”
Star was laughing so hard, her sides ached. “Oh, Gran, you’re priceless. I love you so much, and yes, yes, yes, to all your ideas—make that a used sporty red car. Oh, one more thing. Ty and I are going back to the diner to finish up the day. He wants to tell Wanda and Charlie goodbye and thank them for supporting him—cartoons on the walls, and placemats for the kids.”
“That’s nice. I’ll wait up for you. And, Star, I’m so proud of you. I love you … and … aren’t we going to have fun?”
“Yes, Gran, we’re going to have a blast.”
Chapter 52
TY HAD DONE so much for her. He’d been there when she needed someone, not just anyone, someone to dry her tears, someone to make her laugh. He was the one who helped with her dream. She couldn’t imagine a day without Tyler Jackman. The thought of Ty going away, their time together ending … an empty feeling washed over her.
Leaving the 7-Eleven, they strolled back to the diner sipping a small bottle of chocolate milk. Star told Tyler she didn’t want to say anything to Wanda and Charlie about the money.
The final two hours slowed to a trickle at the diner. Cleaning the grill, Star glanced out the order window at Tyler. He was perched on a counter stool ready to jump if a straggler came in. He had a pen in his hand, poised over a placemat, slow at first then picking up speed, the pen flying back and forth over the paper.
Charlie suggested to Wanda they close for the night. It was eight o’clock, a concert was scheduled at the Bandshell, and he was tired.
Tyler folded the placemat, stuffing it into his pants pocket as Charlie shuffled up to him, shook his hand then pulled Ty into a hug. Wanda had tears in her eyes as she said goodbye making him promise to keep in touch.
Crossing Atlantic Avenue, Star and Tyler strolled hand in hand down the path to the beach. It was a beautiful warm night, although a bit humid. No storm clouds, only a large moon and bright stars.
The concert had started—beating drums, fingers strumming guitars accompanied an energetic vocal group. The music boomed from large speakers over the crowd, over the sandy beach, down to the gentle lapping of the waves riding the outgoing tide.
It was a magical night.
Finding a spot where the sand curved up, they sat nestling into the dip, the sand still warm from the afternoon sun.
“Who do you suppose gave you the money?” Ty asked, his hands folded across his stomach as he gazed up at the star-filled sky.
“I don’t know anybody who would have that kind of money,” Star said. Mimicking Ty, her hands folded, looking up, “Except maybe Jane. But with a grandniece or nephew on the way … besides, she already did so much for me. Who do you think?”
One Summer_...at Charlie's Diner Page 18
