Back to the Good Fortune Diner

by Vicki Essex

  “Hey, honey bear,” she said with a huge grin. “I’m so happy you got the camera working.”

  “I had to get a new one,” he lied. He’d had this one for months; he simply hadn’t had the balls to hook it up. “How’s the image coming through over there?”

  “Not bad, though I might be able to tell better if you took off your shirt.” She waggled her eyebrows. He chuckled, forgetting for a blissful moment that their relationship was doomed.

  “Are you blushing?” she asked, leaning forward, her dark eyes looking down and not quite meeting the camera’s view. It felt like she was staring through his heart, trying to understand the muddiness there. “What’s wrong, Daniel? Are you really that embarrassed?”

  “Well...” He didn’t want to admit it to her. “I don’t want to be interrupted again and have anyone see you. Or me. You know. Naked.”

  “It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?” She peered into the screen. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Oh, boy. “I’ve been thinking about you coming up here,” he started slowly. “I don’t know if you’re going to be comfortable staying in the house for two weeks.”

  She tilted her head. “If you think it’s going to be a problem, I can get a room at a hotel instead.”

  “There’s only one motel on the edge of town, but I’d rather you not stay there. It’s kind of sketchy.”

  “How about a B and B?”

  “I’ll have to look into it. I’d rather you stay with me, of course, but...”

  “But you don’t know if your parents will accept that?” The corner of her mouth twitched.

  “Among other things.” His eyes bulged. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  Selena’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

  He took a deep breath, the air burning his lungs. “I haven’t told them about you being...you know.”

  “A gorgeous catch? Allergic to dogs? Web-footed? Help me out, here, honey bear.” Her weak laughter missed the mark.

  “Not...Chinese.” He cringed.

  She sat back, eyes wide. She blinked rapidly and glanced away. “Oh.”

  “I don’t know how they’re going to react,” he explained. “My grandmother is from an older generation, and she raised my mom with certain beliefs, and my dad... Well, don’t get me started....”

  “You really think it’s a problem, don’t you?” Her eyes grew flinty as she scrutinized him. And then she couldn’t look at him at all. Her hands folded and unfolded then hid from the camera’s view beneath the table. “I don’t understand why this hasn’t come up before. I’d think the name Dr. Selena Worthington would be a dead giveaway. What have you been telling them about me?”

  He struggled to explain. “I told them you’re a doctor. I told them I met you online.” He rubbed his jaw. “Look, my parents are old school. They have certain ideas about who I should be with—”

  “You know,” she interrupted, her tone rising from resigned to irked, “I’ve been dicked around by enough guys with commitment problems to know when they wanted out, and then gave me plenty of crazy reasons why they couldn’t be with me. But this has to be one of the top three bullshit excuses I’ve ever heard.”

  This was spinning out of control. “It’s not you, it’s me.” Jeez, that sounded like a cliché. “I can’t control what my parents think. I don’t want things to get awkward—”

  “For me or for you?” Selena pushed away from the desk and crossed her arms over her chest, fingers digging into her arms. She bounced her knee impatiently. “Let me ask you this. Does it matter to you that I’m white?”

  He opened his mouth to say no, but nothing came out. He couldn’t put the words together to tell her what his real insecurities were. “My parents aren’t racist,” he said miserably.

  Her features twisted with disgust. “Grow a spine, Daniel. Call me when you figure out what your real problem is.” She slapped a hand over the webcam and a second later, disconnected.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TIFFANY PACKED HER THINGS, rolling her stiff neck after a grueling session with Simon. She was looking forward to next week when they’d start Animal Farm. As much as she loved Shakespeare, she’d forgotten how much work it was to teach. On top of that, it was hard to keep Simon focused. The weather outside was bright and hot, and being cooped up indoors was doing little for his patience.

  The clomp of heavy boots on the veranda heralding Chris’s arrival made her heart stutter. He strode in, a little out of breath.

  “I’m glad I caught you before you left.” He was covered in bits of hay and grass, and his jeans were smeared with dirt, but Tiffany’s heart couldn’t stop pitter-pattering. Every time he rushed to see her, she had to stifle the smile threatening to stretch her face into a goofy grin.

  “Is something wrong?” Her voice sounded a little raspy to her ears, but that was probably because Chris had pulled up the hem of his T-shirt to wipe his face. She was beginning to think he did that on purpose when she was around.

  “I was wondering...” He hesitated, pulling off his hat and running his fingers through his sweat-slicked hair. “I wanted to know if you’re free for dinner tomorrow night.”

  The words seeped through her muddled brain. “Dinner?”

  “I want to talk about—” he glanced around, lowered his voice “—Simon. I have some questions and I was hoping we could discuss a few things.”

  She straightened, scolding herself for imagining his interest was in anything more than his son’s welfare. “That would be fine,” she said coolly, wincing inwardly at her all-business tone. Why couldn’t she loosen up now and again and at least pretend she was used to having guys ask her out?

  “Perfect. There’s this great new place that’s opened up in Kielsburg. I think you’ll really like it. I’ll drive us both there after you’re done with Simon.”

  Later, Tiffany pondered the exact reasons for this get-together. Perhaps he wanted to talk about college options. While Simon was making progress, she couldn’t guarantee scholarship-worthy marks. When it came to essay writing and reading, he wasn’t as sure of himself as he was with hands-on tasks. He simply didn’t have the confidence.

  There was also the matter of William. She knew it wasn’t her business, but the old man wasn’t particularly encouraging. On two separate occasions, he’d called his grandson “a dummy” in that nasty half-joking way she couldn’t really decipher as being a dig or an actual joke. But she knew it bothered Simon—he lost focus when his grandfather was around. She didn’t want to interfere in their family matters again, but she couldn’t let this slide. If nothing else, William was starting to piss her off.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING DAY BEFORE TUTORING, Daniel walked into the diner looking low and exhausted. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes, and his expression strained, as if he were holding back a scream. He’d been working nonstop, either at the diner or with his driving students, and it was obviously taking its toll. He hadn’t been eating much, prompting Poh-poh to boil up some pungent concoction of herbs in case he was coming down with something. He’d been like this all week. When Tiffany asked him about it, he shook his head and went back into the kitchen.

  Her conscience niggled at her. He hadn’t been the same since their talk about his relationship with Selena. She’d been too cruel, too realistic, too Tiffany-headed. She should have known better than to think Daniel wouldn’t listen when she was being mean.

  Something had happened, and it wasn’t good. Unfortunately, engaging him—or anyone in their family—in conversation about personal matters was like trying to pull teeth from a crocodile, so she came up with a new tack. “Hey, Daniel. I have a question for you.”

  He looked up at her balefully.

  “Do you think you and Dad could use another hand back here?”

  “We could always use help,” he said with a slight shrug. “Why? Is there someone you have in mind?”

  “Actually, yeah. Simon Jamieson.”

&
nbsp; He shook his head. “Tiff...”

  “It’s just an idea. The kid needs something to build up his confidence, and he seemed to like working here. I know things didn’t go well the last time, but I think it’d work out with the proper training.”

  He scratched the thin stubble on his chin. He’d always been meticulous about his shaving habits and she was bothered by the sight of that scruffy shadow. “I’ll have to talk to Dad. We have the funds but...well, you know how cheap he is.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” She sobered. Asking about a part-time job for Simon had only been an excuse to make her brother open up. “So...do you want to talk about whatever’s bugging you?”

  “My college reunion is coming up. I’m trying to figure out whether I’m going to go.”

  She didn’t believe he could possibly be brooding that much over a reunion. She went straight for the kill. “How’s Selena doing?”

  A momentary flash of anger was quickly blotted out by sadness in his dark, bloodshot eyes. He let out a long breath. “I’ve gotta get this going.” He turned back to the bowl of chicken marinating on the counter, staring at it as if he had no idea what to do next.

  Tiff left for the Jamieson farm shortly after that, her worry for Daniel slowly giving way to thoughts about the lesson ahead. She was determined not to think about Chris and their “date” tonight. She didn’t want to build up any expectations or anticipation for the evening. She had to take it minute by minute. It was a lovely day, clear and hot, a few puffy clouds in the sky. The evening forecast would be equally clear and warm. It was the perfect weather to go for a long stroll...if they were going on a date. Which they weren’t.

  Uttering a short curse, she realized she’d forgotten to change her clothes in her rush to leave the diner. It’d taken her all morning to choose an outfit that could do triple duty at the Good Fortune, tutoring and dinner. The problem was that she didn’t want to smell like fryer oil when she sat down with Chris—it didn’t matter so much with Simon. So, she’d brought a top to change into—a pretty, light pink cowl-necked thing with a few sequins that looked punky and flirty all at once.

  It would be too obvious if she switched outfits in the Jamiesons’ bathroom. Simon would notice her costume change for sure, and might get ideas. And she was adamant that no one got ideas of any kind, herself included. This was simply a meeting to discuss Simon’s future. She wanted to look clean and smell fresh. That was all.

  She pulled onto the shoulder and parked next to a wooded area. She changed quickly, praying no one would saunter up to the car while she was undressed. She took another minute to freshen her makeup. Then, because she was worried she’d put her shirt on inside out or left something untucked or unzipped, she got out of the car to check her reflection in the glass.

  Shirt—neat. Hair—brushed. Teeth—no food bits.

  She breathed deeply, trying to master the nerves fluttering in her tummy. There was no reason for her to be nervous. None at all. This wasn’t a date. But she still needed a plan, a way to deal with Chris. She would be forced to engage in real, adult conversation with him during their meal, and there was no way they would discuss Shakespeare for two hours. She wasn’t tutoring him anymore.

  As long as they talked about Simon, they wouldn’t lapse into awkward silence, she reasoned. She paced outside of the car and began categorizing all the things she wanted to discuss with Chris, giving herself a bunch of cues on where to continue conversation. Good segues in conversation, she reminded herself, used the words by the way, speaking of, and I recently read/heard about. She could only hope that what followed was equally as smooth and brilliant.

  Finally ready to face Chris, she went to open her car door.

  It was locked.

  She reached for her keys. The sickening plunge of her stomach occurred half a second before she realized she’d left them dangling from the ignition. Her purse sat on the passenger seat. Her cell phone was zipped inside the bag.

  “No. Oh, no, no, no.” She gently thumped her forehead against the roof of the car. She refused to let panic take over, but her heart had started a hard hammering inside her chest.

  She couldn’t be late. She was never late.

  Maybe she should break a window and unlock the doors. But this was Daniel’s car, and she did not want to lose another vehicle. She could just imagine what her parents would say.

  She checked her watch. She still had time to get to the Jamieson farm. She could walk to the nearest farmhouse and call Daniel or someone else to deliver an extra set of keys. She knew there were a few homes along this stretch of road, but couldn’t quite remember where she’d stopped on her journey. Things looked different standing on the shoulder.

  Well, there was no use staying here. When the horse dies, find a cow, she told herself in Poh-poh’s sage voice. She pointed herself toward the Jamieson farm and started walking.

  * * *

  IT WAS AFTER FIVE when Chris walked into the house to grab a shower before his dinner date with Tiffany. He’d found himself whistling as he mounted the porch steps. He was looking forward to tonight. It had been a long time since he’d been out with other adults who weren’t members of his staff or family.

  When he entered the dining room, all was silent—there was no sign of either Simon or his tutor. He asked his father if he’d seen or heard them come or go, but William merely shrugged, testily adding he didn’t come out of his office when “that woman” came over.

  His father had been sulky ever since Chris had lectured him about his comments to Tiffany. William had insisted he’d been joking, and simply wouldn’t acknowledge how offensive he’d been.

  “It’s not personal,” he’d argued. “And it’s not like I called her some of the things people used to call them. I was being downright friendly.”

  “Dad, I don’t care. There’s a standard of behavior I expect from every member of my family and my staff, and I will not have that kind of willful ignorance influence my son.”

  “So, I’m part of your staff now, am I? Why don’t you fire me, then?”

  They’d left it at that. His father was too stubborn to ever apologize. He didn’t want to hear that he was wrong.

  Chris left the house and found his son in the barn loft. The kittens swarmed around his lap as he scooped each one up in turn and set them on his shoulder, or rubbed his cheek against their purring, wriggling bodies. He smiled and made his way up the ladder. Simon glanced up.

  “Where’s Tiffany?”

  “She didn’t show.” He set the kitten down, and it scampered to where Shadow lay watching from the straw.

  “Did you try calling her?”

  Simon shot him a duh look. “Three times. There was no answer.”

  Chris was immediately alarmed. “She’s over an hour late and you didn’t think to tell me?” A lot of things could happen on that long stretch of highway between here and town, and considering that wreck in Frank’s shop....

  No, he was not about to think the worst.

  Simon looked worried now, too. “Sorry, Dad. I just thought she was late. Maybe she’s still at the diner and forgot.” He sucked in a lip. “Do you think something happened?”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” he replied, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “Hey, how was your midterm?”

  “It went okay. I’ll tell you about it later.” He’d sensed his father’s anxiety and urged him on with a nod.

  Chris left the barn and dialed the Good Fortune on his cell. Perhaps she’d simply forgotten the time, or was bogged down at the diner, but that wasn’t likely. She always called if she thought she might be late, which she never was. By the time Daniel picked up, he was certain something had happened.

  “Chris Jamieson here. We haven’t heard from Tiffany. Is she there?”

  The long pause at the other end of the line had Chris’s heart racing. “She left over two hours ago.”

  “Okay.” Blood pounded through his temples and cold fear raced through hi
s system. He knew he was getting worked up, but he couldn’t help it. He pictured her bloodied by the side of the road and his skin prickled. “I’m going to drive out along Route 28. That’s the way she usually comes. She might have gotten a flat tire or something. My son tried to call her cell, but she’s not picking up. The battery could be dead.” His throat stuck on the last word.

  “Let me know as soon as you hear anything. I can grab my dad’s van and meet you.” Daniel sounded as calm as a stone.

  “All right. Keep your cell on.” He hung up and headed to his truck. Simon ran up to the driver’s-side window as he started the engine.

  “What’s going on? Did you find her?”

  “I’m going to see if she’s somewhere along the road. Her car might have had troubles.”

  “You want me to come?” He looked anxious.

  “No, stay here. Wait and see if she turns up or calls. Grandpa might not hear the phone.” Or he might ignore it. He screened his calls all the time. “I’ll call you as soon as I find her.”

  Chris drove the route slowly, scanning the landscape for any sign of life. There were long stretches of road bordered on either side by tall, thick grasses, cornfields that could swallow cars and boggy, marshy ponds that could suck a man under without leaving a trace. Farther along, the dikes were steep enough that a car could roll down them. And there were all kinds of wildlife that could walk onto the road and startle drivers.

  She didn’t get scared by a sleepy raccoon, he told himself. People drove along this road all the time. If something had happened, she could wave someone down....

  Which only opened his imagination to all the other unsavory possibilities.

  He’d been driving for ten minutes with a hitchhiking serial killer starring in his waking nightmare when he spotted a lone figure walking along the unpaved shoulder. The figure paused, then started waving frantically with both arms. Her calves, bare beneath her modest gray skirt, and sandals were splattered with mud. Long strands of dark hair had escaped her ponytail, framing her reddened face. It must have been nearly ninety-five in this sun, and here she was walking without a hat or water or anything.