by Gail Sattler
She started to walk in the direction of the chair. At her second step, her legs wobbled and the room began to go dark. One knee gave out. She felt herself falling, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard her name being called. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her while some strength came back into her legs. Automatically, she reached out and hung on to a pair of wide shoulders. Slowly, Mark’s face came into focus.
Mark’s voice came out in a low rumble. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
All the spinning had stopped, but Chantelle struggled to find her voice. When she could speak, it came out barely above a squeak. “I’m sorry. This has happened before. I should know better than to go so long without eating. I’ll be fine.”
Before she had a chance to let go and back up, Mark’s mouth was on hers. He kissed her hard and quick. Then, as quickly as he kissed her, it was over.
He didn’t let her go as he spoke. His voice came out all thick and rumbly. “You scared me.”
Her brain misfired in a million directions. She almost had formed a coherent thought she could turn into a sentence when a male voice sounded, but this time Mark’s mouth wasn’t moving.
“Your lunch is ready, Chantelle, and. . .” The voice trailed off.
Mark turned his head in the direction of the doorway, so Chantelle did, too.
Rick stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. He blinked a few times in rapid succession, and his face turned beet red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. The door was open. Mark, you have a call on line two. It sounds like Ellen.”
As quickly as Rick appeared, he disappeared.
In that same split second, Mark released her and stepped back.
Chantelle broke out into a cold sweat. “I think I’d better go eat my lunch and get back to the front,” she mumbled. In a split second, she turned and hustled to the kitchen counter as quickly as she could without looking like she was running. She kept her head fixed straight ahead so she wouldn’t catch Rick’s eyes. As she picked up her lunch, she muttered a quick “thank you,” then hurried downstairs to the staff room.
With all the conflicting thoughts roaring through her head, Chantelle had to force herself to focus on a short prayer of thanks for her meal before she started eating.
If the same thing had happened fifty years ago, she would have slapped Mark’s face.
But it wasn’t fifty years ago.
And she didn’t want to slap his face.
Chantelle shoveled four fries into her mouth at once and gulped them down before she’d really chewed them properly.
Mark had kissed her. But she didn’t really like him. Or did she? The way he made such snap decisions and tended to be bossy annoyed her. At the same time, she also admired his leadership ability, which was probably the same trait in a different application. While she knew that she was a “people person,” Mark tended to separate himself from people in general. But he wasn’t antisocial; he got along well with everyone he came in contact with. He just tended to be quiet in a crowd, unlike herself. He’d been quite disturbed after Uncle Joe’s heart attack, and he’d given up his job to stay and help. Deep down, he really was a caring person.
If she closed her eyes and thought of Mark, the first picture to appear was of him performing CPR on Uncle Joe. Mark had saved Uncle Joe’s life. If ever there was a case of admiration, even hero-worship, that was it.
Chantelle bit into her burger, taking in so much, she almost had to chew with her mouth open.
Admiring Mark wasn’t the same as liking him. In order to like someone, you had to know them, and she really didn’t know him that well. Most important, whether she liked him or not, despite whatever potential they had for a relationship, they both knew he was leaving as soon as their uncles returned to work.
She’d said it before, but she reminded herself again. She refused to set herself up for a potential heartbreak. He was leaving; therefore, nothing would be starting, no matter how she felt about him.
She gobbled down the hamburger and fries in record time. Not wanting to lie down with a full stomach, Chantelle ran up the stairs and returned to the front counter. She took a gentleman’s money while Mark seated an older couple.
On his return trip to the front counter, Mark showed no signs of awkwardness or regret. In fact, she didn’t see signs of anything, not even that he was glad to see her. All he did was check his wristwatch. “Are you back already? You were only gone ten minutes. That’s not long enough for a break.”
“And I suppose you took a break? Rick told me that you ate in the office while you were working.”
“I’m busy, Chantelle. I ate at my desk, but it was still a break. If we were at S&B, I’d insist you take your full lunch break. Besides, I didn’t almost pass out.”
“We’re not at S&B, so those rules don’t apply. I could say the same thing to you. You should be taking your full break, and you’re not supposed to be working overtime.”
He grinned. “You know I would just take everything to my parents’ house and work on it there, except that here I have everything on hand if I require more information. Besides, for awhile, working only eight hours a day isn’t an option. I have to get this done. The smooth operation of the diner depends on this information.”
She couldn’t argue with him, so she decided to change the subject. “What did Aunt Ellen want?”
Mark sighed. “Joe has been asking for us. From five o’clock till closing we’ll have two people each in the kitchen and serving, besides ourselves. After the supper rush is over, we’ll have to go to the hospital. I don’t know what we’re going to tell him. We should also go see Uncle Jack. I think they’re allowing him to have visitors now.”
“We can tell both of them that everything is going just fine and that you’re still working on catching up.”
“I guess.”
Chantelle checked her wristwatch, then started counting on her fingers. “I think the best time to leave would be about eight-fifteen. Would that work for you?”
He nodded and was gone so fast Chantelle barely had time to blink. She seated only a few more groups when Allyson and Brad arrived. Unable to leave her post with the supper rush starting, Chantelle did her best to explain what happened and sent them on their way to get ready.
With both Sandra and Brad serving, the supper rush went much more smoothly than the lunch rush. Having Allyson in the kitchen gave them the ideal number, according to Uncle Joe, for a restaurant this size.
Smooth operations aside, by the time eight-fifteen rolled around and Mark appeared, she felt like she was ready to drop. Chantelle thought that if she had to smile nicely at one more pair of strangers, she would surely die.
Mark held the door open for her as they walked outside and jingled her keys in the air. “Want me to drive?”
Normally, Chantelle would have argued. It was her car, and while she was in it, she drove it.
“Sure,” she mumbled and walked directly to the passenger door, waiting for him to unlock it.
During the trip to the hospital, Chantelle stretched out her tired legs and her aching feet, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. What she really wanted to do was take off her shoes; but she knew that if she took them off, she’d never get them back on.
“You must be exhausted. I guess I’m lucky because, even though it’s been a long day, I’ve been sitting most of the time.”
Chantelle didn’t bother to reply.
“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing leaving? I couldn’t believe my eyes when Allyson walked in. I don’t think she’s more than twenty years old. And the same with the boy who is serving. Did you put anyone officially in charge?”
“They’re adults. They’ll be fine,” she mumbled, fighting to keep her eyes open. “Besides, I gave them your cell number.”
“I don’t know. Rick and Sandra both appear to be in their early twenties, but Allyson and Brad are students, working e
venings while going to school.”
Chantelle let her eyes drift shut. “Not school. College. You did the same thing. You were trustworthy, weren’t you?”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not. The only difference is that you’re Jack’s relative. All four of them are Jack and Uncle Joe’s Christian brothers and sisters. Jack and Uncle Joe trust them, and that’s all we need to know.”
“I guess I can’t argue, can I?”
Chantelle didn’t answer. Mark remained silent, which was both good and bad. Good, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him until she sorted out what happened earlier, but bad, because she could feel herself falling asleep, and she couldn’t do anything about it.
The car came to a stop. “Chantelle? Are you sleeping?”
Slowly, she opened her eyes. “Almost. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Don’t worry about it. Before we go in, we should talk about what to tell Joe and Uncle Jack. I’m not finished entering and reconciling everything yet. So far, things look borderline, but okay. Still, I don’t think the diner can pay another additional full-time salary like you want. Remember, the restaurant still has to pay Uncle Jack and Joe even though they’re not there.”
Chantelle felt herself sag. “I don’t know if I find that too encouraging, but I suppose it’s better than what you could have said. Let’s go.”
Ten
Mark rolled over and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Despite being thoroughly exhausted, he couldn’t sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw different images of Chantelle. Of her smiling. Or how she pressed her fists into her back when she thought he wasn’t watching. How she constantly fiddled with those silly clips in her hair.
The image most clear in his mind was of her expression after he kissed her. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. He had seriously thought of kissing her again, right this time, when Rick barged in.
Mark squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t help. The total blackness only made his memories more vivid.
He tried to make sense of what was happening. He couldn’t.
Just as Chantelle started to fall, the memory of Joe collapsing at the airport flashed through his mind. Unlike Joe, Mark had managed to catch Chantelle before she hit the floor. He still didn’t know why he had kissed her. Yet, at the time, he couldn’t not kiss Chantelle. Even though it wasn’t likely that Chantelle could also be having a heart attack, the thought of something being seriously wrong made his stomach churn. He should have been angry with her that she’d caused the problem herself by not eating for so long, especially after she admitted it had happened before. Yet, he couldn’t be angry.
The woman was going to drive him insane.
The way Chantelle disappeared when Rick returned to the kitchen told Mark he’d stepped past her boundaries when he’d kissed her. She’d already hugged him, so if he’d just hugged her and not kissed her, she likely would have stayed. But he’d gone further than that. He’d kissed her, and he shouldn’t have. They didn’t know each other well enough for that. He wasn’t even sure he liked her that much. At times, she drove him crazy with her overexuberance and Pollyanna attitude.
But the woman had spunk. Once she set her mind to doing something, she did it, no matter what.
She also had guts. Not many people stood up to him, and he was seldom challenged. When he was, he seldom lost. He had a feeling that Chantelle not only would hold her ground against him, occasionally she might even win.
Mark found himself grinning at the possibilities.
He’d experienced his first taste of how skillfully she could steer a conversation while at the hospital. Uncle Jack was still confined to bed, being only a few days after surgery; but Joe convinced a nurse to put him in a wheelchair and push him into Uncle Jack’s room so they could all talk together. Mark did his best to assure them that even though he hadn’t yet managed to catch up on all the financial records, it didn’t look like irreparable damage had been done, except for the computer itself.
Strangely, when he said he was staying, Uncle Jack hadn’t seemed all that surprised. It had been Joe who had asked how Mark had managed to get so much time off with no notice. Mark couldn’t think of a reply that wouldn’t make them feel bad, but Chantelle jumped into the conversation at that point. She revealed a select bit of information from his phone conversation with Sean, then changed the subject so fast neither of them realized they were no longer talking strictly business. Before they knew it, she was telling slightly exaggerated stories of amusing things that happened at the diner that day. She actually had Joe laughing until the nurse came in and asked them to leave because she was causing a disturbance.
Uncle Jack and Joe were both happy to hear that he had partnered with Chantelle to run the diner until their return. He still didn’t know if it would work. All he could do was his best.
Mark rolled over and forced himself to keep his eyes closed. Five-thirty would come far too quickly. Tomorrow would be another day of arduous, long hours.
And another day of working with Chantelle.
❧
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Chantelle smiled at him, her bright, cheerful grin almost making him forget how little sleep he really did get.
“Once I was out, I slept like a log. And you?”
“I feel much better than yesterday. Now buckle up your seatbelt. We’re on our way.”
Mark studied Chantelle as she drove. For once, she didn’t talk. Any other day, he would have appreciated the silence. This time, though, they were in for another long day, and there were things that needed to be said.
As a manager, he knew from experience that short stretches of blitzing a large workload could produce exceptional results. However, past a certain point, too much overwork became counterproductive. He knew as much by falling into the same pit too many times himself. Still, even if he didn’t take the breaks he knew he should, he always made sure his staff took their breaks. He’d certainly never had an employee faint on him before.
Not that she was an employee, but Chantelle seemed unable to recognize her own danger signs, nor did she know how to pace herself. Therefore, Mark decided to save Chantelle from herself.
“I was thinking about yesterday. We have to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen again.”
Her face paled. “Yesterday?”
“Yes. Yesterday. You know, when—”
“I know what happened yesterday.”
Mark knotted his brows at her sharp tone, but continued anyway. “Good. Then I think you’ll agree that we should take our breaks. We’ll schedule them to coincide with nonpeak periods. Of course, I don’t need to be relieved; but up at the front, you do. You can have one of the servers relieve you or I can. We don’t want any of the servers pushing themselves too hard by hosting and serving at the same time. It’s up to you to make sure the servers take their scheduled breaks, and I’ll make sure the cooks take theirs.”
“That’s what this is all about? Coffee breaks?”
“Well. . .yes. . .”
Before he could comment further, she quickly agreed, then changed the subject without a breath in between and started talking nonstop.
Mark turned to the window so she wouldn’t see him grinning. He had already noticed that Chantelle talked even more than usual when she was nervous or wanted to distract someone. He could understand her embarrassment. If he had fainted at work, he would be embarrassed, too. He, however, would have simply apologized and let it go.
As soon as they arrived at the diner, Mark made a quick trip to the kitchen to put the morning muffins in the oven, then hastened to the office and immediately resumed re-entering the data. The alarm on his wristwatch went off at exactly the right time to remind him to tell Chantelle to take her break.
At first, she protested; but as soon as he mentioned the previous day’s events, she fell silent and did as she was told. She returned precisely fifteen minutes later,
the first time she’d been on time for anything since he met her.
Before he could get too smug about his little victory, Chantelle made an appearance at the office door when he was right in the middle of an important transaction. Her voice was almost like an echo of his own, reminding him to put his work down and go downstairs into the staff room for his break. He tried to tell her that he was too busy and didn’t need the break, but she wouldn’t listen. For someone who had to write down every component of an order in longhand, she threw his own words back at him with the accuracy of a tape recorder. He ended up taking that break and all his others when she asked, just so he wouldn’t have to listen to her. The worst part was that every time he saw her, she winked at him and pointed to her watch.
Having to eat his own words wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t been gloating about it.
By the end of the day, he was so angry with her he could barely look at her. He wasn’t used to taking breaks every two hours, and he certainly wasn’t used to being banished to the staff room for a full half-hour twice a day, because she made him take the full break for dinner, too. His only consolation was that she was taking all her breaks, all of the proper duration, as well.
However, because of Chantelle, it was taking longer than anticipated to re-enter the lost data. At this rate, despite being at the diner from opening until closing, Mark had a bad feeling he wouldn’t be finished until sometime on Saturday.
On the drive home, he tried to figure out some way to convince Chantelle to take her breaks while he worked through his; but every time he brought the conversation around to break time, she changed the subject.
When they arrived at his parents’ house, she bade him a friendly farewell. He got out, being careful to push the door hard enough to close it, but at the same time trying not to slam it too hard—a near impossibility. On the third try, it finally closed properly; but just as it caught, he thought of one more argument to win his case on the coffee break issue. He tapped on the hood of the car to get her attention so she wouldn’t run him over and then jogged around the front to stand beside her door.
