Joe's Diner

by Gail Sattler

  He also learned that, unlike his, her family life wasn’t stable. His parents had been happily married for thirty-five years, while her parents were divorced. The only other time he’d seen Chantelle cry was when she told him that her father had never been a Christian. Instead of hanging onto the Lord for strength after the divorce, her mother fell away completely. Nothing Chantelle could say or do had been able to bring her mother back into God’s fold.

  He couldn’t believe that he’d been so direct, but following Chantelle’s own methods, he also bluntly asked if she had anyone to call special and why not. Again, her answer surprised him.

  When she was in her early twenties, she’d been engaged. She had caught her fiancé, who was supposed to be a devout Christian young man, cheating on her, and that ended the relationship. Chantelle, being Chantelle, didn’t let herself become bitter over the experience. She told him that she often dated and that one day she hoped to find her Mr. Right. As of yet, God hadn’t shown her the man with whom she would cross paths.

  When that happens—somewhere, someday—someone will be a very lucky man.

  “Here we are!” Chantelle chirped as she pulled into Joe’s driveway. “You’ve been so quiet all the way here. What were you thinking?” Instead of leaving the car, she sat in the seat, not so patiently waiting for him to tell her everything, which he had no intention of doing.

  Mark smiled. “Just stuff. We’d better go inside. Ellen and Joe will think it rather strange if we just sit in the driveway.”

  “Probably. And this time, don’t tell me to lock the door. This isn’t the big city. It’s little Aidleyville. My car is quite safe in the driveway, even with the windows down.”

  He smiled again. Her boundless optimism and zeal for life in general were wearing off on him. He wasn’t going to tell her that his own car had been broken into and vandalized in the supposedly-secure underground parking at his apartment complex not long before he left. Because Chantelle said so, here in little Aidleyville, her car and its contents probably were quite safe.

  “You win. Let’s go in.”

  Thirteen

  Chantelle tried not to let her mouth hang open as she stared at Mark. “What have you done to your hair?”

  “That’s a long story. I went in for a simple haircut, but the stylist convinced me that this would look really good. I’ve never done anything wild before, so I thought I’d give it a try.”

  Chantelle leaned over the counter toward him for a closer look. “I don’t believe this. You got your hair streaked.”

  “The stylist called it a foil. Anyway, even though summer is over, I think it gives me that ‘I’ve just been on vacation’ look. Since I didn’t get my vacation, getting my hair to look like I just got back from a month in the tropics is the next best thing. Do you like it?”

  All Chantelle could do was nod. The blond highlights were quite vivid against his natural brown. It shouldn’t have suited him, but it did.

  Over the past few months, she’d seen many changes in him, but this one topped them all. Of course, hearing that he’d been to the Wednesday night service was better than anything he could have done to his hair.

  She’d been extremely happy when he started being the first to mention going to Sunday services, and now, to hear that he’d not only gone to the Wednesday night service without her suggesting it, but that he’d gone alone, she didn’t know what to think.

  Immediately after Uncle Joe’s first time back to church, Mark had changed their working hours. First, he cut them both down to a five-day workweek instead of six. Neither of them got two days off in a row, but in addition to having Sunday off for the Lord’s day, she now got Tuesday off, and Mark took Wednesday off. In addition to the shorter workweek, since business remained good after their hat contest ended, Mark hired another part-time server, which allowed them both to work only eight hours a day, Chantelle taking the early shift of opening to two-thirty, and Mark taking the second shift of one-thirty to closing.

  At first, she liked the idea, because shortening her time at the diner gave her the rest of her life back. However, she hadn’t expected to feel regret at not seeing Mark so much. With an overlap of only an hour in the middle of the day, they hardly saw each other anymore during the week. She found herself coming into the restaurant on Tuesday, making up excuses just so she could talk to him. Of course, when he came on Wednesdays, his day off, to talk to her, he had legitimate reasons for being there. The time she saw the most of Mark was Sunday, when they spent the afternoon alone together after church and most of the time Sunday evenings as well.

  “By the way,” he said now, bringing her back to the present. “You were right. That service at Joe’s church on Wednesday night was really something.”

  “That’s great,” she said, so confused that she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Why don’t you come with me next Wednesday? You’re off halfway through the day. I’ll take you home right after it’s over so you can get enough sleep to be up early Thursday. I think you’d really like it. I also saw that friend of yours, Jennifer. We sat together. She liked my hair.”

  Jennifer was there. He’d been with Jennifer. Something in Chantelle’s stomach knotted, making her realize that she was hungrier than she thought. “Sure. We can do that.”

  Mark stepped closer. He plunked his elbows on the counter beside the cash register and leaned forward. “You know, I was thinking.”

  Chantelle cringed. When Mark thought something, whatever it was, good or bad, it always came to pass.

  “Things have been going really well, but we really should take more time to go over the loose ends. We hardly see each other anymore. We should schedule a time to sit down and talk. We haven’t done any promotions besides your Crazy Hat Month. That worked so well, we should think of something else. Only this time, I’d like to participate a little in the planning.”

  Chantelle grinned sheepishly. “I guess,” she mumbled.

  “The only time we’re here at the same time is from one-thirty to two-thirty, so let’s put that hour aside for just the two of us to sit in the office and talk. Over lunch.”

  A small group of people walked in, giving Chantelle only enough time to nod her agreement. Mark straightened, winked, and walked away, whistling.

  Whistling. He’d winked at her.

  Chantelle pinched herself just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

  As soon as she seated the recent arrivals, she signaled to Brittany to take over hosting and ran into the office, where she found Mark busily working on the new computer.

  She stood in the doorway, not sure if she should interrupt him. “I haven’t had lunch yet. Have you? Would you like to start those meetings today?”

  He hit save and leaned back in the chair. “That sounds like a good idea.” He pushed the button for the intercom to the kitchen. “Kevin, can you please make up a couple of lunches for me and Chantelle? We’ll both have the weekly special. Thanks.”

  Knowing that Kevin would buzz them back when their lunches were ready, Chantelle lowered herself into the padded chair beside the desk. “Do you know it’s been nearly four months since Uncle Joe’s heart attack?”

  Mark lifted his arms and linked his fingers behind his head. “I know. We got off to a bit of a rocky start, but I think we’ve done quite well. Profits are up, and that’s after taking into account the additional salaries.”

  Chantelle looked around the office. It was still Jack’s office; but over the last four months, Mark had added his own personal touches. The most noticeable change was that everything looked spotlessly clean and meticulously organized.

  The only thing slightly out of place was a large yellow Post-it note stuck to the side of the monitor with a Bible verse on it.

  “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

  —John 16:33

  “I wonder what’s going to happen w
hen Jack and Uncle Joe come back. Do you think they’ll be able to use that new program you installed for doing the stock and ordering?”

  “Probably. It’s very user-friendly.”

  “I don’t know if I’m still going to have a job here. Uncle Joe will do the hosting. That means the only way I’ll be able to stay is if Uncle Joe were to let go the two part-time people we hired and I went back to serving, which I’m not very good at.”

  “That’s still almost a month away. Don’t worry about it. All you can do is pray about it and wait for an answer. Maybe you’ll get that job at the bank that you wanted.”

  Something did a flip-flop in Chantelle’s chest. To know that Mark was again praying did her heart a world of good, but to have him suggest to her that she pray for something and wait for God’s direction seemed like a miracle. She still didn’t know what happened to open his heart again to God’s leading; but whatever it was, she praised God for it.

  Mark leaned sideways, lifted the page on the calendar, and tapped his finger to the new page. “We really should go over the menus. Now is the time to plan for whatever’s going to happen for the Thanksgiving season, whether we’re here or not, because we need to start placing orders. There’s decorating to do, too. Do you think we should go with a turkey decor or dried vegetables?”

  “They usually go with the vegetables, but maybe if we do turkeys, we can plan a contest and—”

  Brittany’s voice blared over the intercom. “Call for you on line two, Mark.”

  Mark sighed. “That’s probably the supplier. I ordered chicken burgers, and they sent me turkey. Excuse me.” He hit the button to put the call over the speaker and began punching in keys to open the program for the stock. “Mark Daniels,” he said in the direction of the phone on the desk. “How can I help you?”

  The voice that came over the phone wasn’t Stan.

  “Mark? It’s Mom. A letter came for you today, and I thought I should call rather than wait for you to come home tonight. It’s from S&B.”

  Mark made a typo on his password, and his hands froze. He gulped and looked up at Chantelle. “Open it.”

  The sound of a staticky rip crackled over the speaker. Both of them heard his mother gasp. “It’s a check. And it’s a big one. Oh, Mark. . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Chantelle forced herself to breathe. A severance check. After all this time, now they knew. When Jack and Uncle Joe came back, both of them would be looking for a new job.

  “And there’s a letter. . . . ‘Dear Mark,’ ” his mother read flatly. “’Enclosed is a check for all unused vacation time, the payout for accumulated unused sick time, plus pay at time-and-a-half rate for weekends worked, as submitted. Subsequent to our conversation in which you advised me of your notice of a leave of absence and contrary to your suggestion, I took your request to the board. This matter has been under consideration since then, pending a committee decision. During that time, it was discovered that we had neglected to give you a promised increase in salary. Therefore, also included in this amount is the difference in salary, retroactive to the date of agreement. This check now pays out all monies owed to you as of the current date.’ ”

  His mother paused.

  Mark grinned weakly. “How about that? I got a raise.”

  Chantelle tried to smile and couldn’t. “Yeah.”

  His mother continued. “Please be advised that your position, at the new rate of pay, can be made available to you, pending your reply within thirty days from the date of this letter. Upon acceptance, we offer a one-month signing bonus as further incentive. We look forward to hearing from you. Regards, Sean McCafferty.’ Mark! You’ve still got your job!”

  Mark’s face paled. “Excuse me,” he muttered to Chantelle as he picked up the receiver and clicked it off the speaker setting. “How much is the check, Mom?”

  His face paled even more. “Yeah. Great. Thanks. See you later. Bye.”

  Chantelle waited in silence until Mark was able to speak.

  His voice came out in a hoarse croak. “They must really want me back. I didn’t expect this.”

  Chantelle stood. For a reason she couldn’t explain, she’d mentally logged the date of Mark’s phone call to his boss. She thought it no coincidence that the thirty-day deadline for the letter was exactly five months from that date. “Maybe I should leave you to think about it.”

  Mark jumped to his feet. “Please. Don’t go. I can’t rush this. They’re dangling quite a carrot in front of me, but I don’t know that I can go back to working on their terms. I’ve been down that road before, and I have to think about my options. Most of all, I have to pray about it.”

  He reached down and grasped both of her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I’m not very good at praying out loud. I have so much to think about, I don’t know if I could construct a coherent sentence right now. I need you to stay and pray with me. I know you’ll pray for what is right in God’s sight, regardless of what I want to do.”

  “Okay.”

  Mark nudged the door shut with his foot. They both bowed their heads and began to pray. Chantelle prayed for God to move Mark’s heart in the direction that would give God the most glory. She also prayed for a direction that would also be good and pleasing to Mark. When she stopped talking, she didn’t pull away. Even though she doubted Mark would pray out loud, she knew he would pray silently, and, therefore, she would continue to pray with him. She didn’t have to hear him to know what he was praying. He was praying for exactly the same things she had said, in his own way and wording.

  In the silence, her own prayers drifted to questions about the relationship between herself and Mark and how much it had changed since they first met four short months ago. Whether or not he went back to S&B, in less than a month, he was going to leave Aidleyville, and she probably wouldn’t see him again.

  The realization made her head spin and her stomach churn. In that moment, she realized she loved him. She didn’t want him to go, although she had no good reason for him to stay.

  He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Amen,” he mumbled.

  “Amen,” she replied.

  He let her go, but instead of stepping back, his hands drifted to around her back, and he pulled her in close to him. “I’ll never forget the way you hugged me after my phone call with Sean. I need a hug from you now more than ever.”

  It wouldn’t have taken any convincing on her part. Chantelle snuggled into his chest, wrapped her arms around his back, and held him tight.

  He hadn’t held her for more than fifteen seconds when one hand moved. She thought it odd being in a one-armed hug, but suddenly she felt one of the clips being loosened from her hair, followed by another, then another. One by one, she heard the clicks of plastic on metal as they landed on the desk. As soon as the last one was out, his hand returned to her back, and he buried his face in her hair.

  “I like that shampoo you use,” he muttered.

  She tried not to tremble. She wanted him to do more than kiss the top of her head.

  Brittany’s voice blared over the intercom. “Call for you on line one, Mark.”

  The harsh interruption made both of them flinch and separate, even though Brittany obviously couldn’t see them.

  Mark gave her a shaky smile, then turned toward the phone. “Can you take a message, please?” he called out, turning back to Chantelle. He shuffled closer, so they were mere inches apart, and cupped her face in his palms. “I’ve got a lot to think about. But for now, all I can think about is this.”

  Before Chantelle realized what he was going to do, Mark lowered his head and brushed a short kiss across the surface of her lips. When she didn’t move away, he smiled, embraced her fully, and kissed her again. Slowly, and like he meant it.

  Chantelle kissed him back the same way because she meant it, too.

  Brittany’s voice once again blared over the intercom. “Mark? Call for you on line one. I think it’s the same guy.”

  Chantelle could feel hi
s reluctance as they released each other and separated. “Sorry, I guess I’d better take it. Please come and say good-bye to me before you go home. If we miss each other, I guess I’ll see you at lunchtime tomorrow.”

  All Chantelle could do was nod as she backed up and wrapped her hand around the doorknob.

  Mark hit the flashing button on the phone as he sank into the chair. “Mark Daniels,” he said, his voice much lower than usual. He cleared his throat, bringing his pitch back to normal. “How can I help you?”

  “Mark, this is Stan. I got your message. It seems we made a mistake on your order. I’m really sorry. I’m holding a truck at the back door. We can make the switch right now, pending your confirmation.”

  As Mark called up the order on the computer, Chantelle shuffled out of the room. Mark had work to do, and for the next half-hour, she did, too.

  And when that half-hour was up, she intended to go home as fast as she could without getting a ticket.

  Like Mark, she had some serious praying to do, too. Except now another complication had been added.

  No matter what happened, in thirty days, a part of her heart was going to be ripped away, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  ❧

  The next two weeks passed in a blur. Despite their busy schedules, Chantelle spent every minute she could with Mark. She didn’t care that on her day off during the week, the employees thought it strange that she spent most of it in the office with Mark.

  On his midweek day off, Mark also came to the diner for a major portion of the day, except they couldn’t spend the time in the office. He stayed at the front, joking and teasing the servers as he took a few turns at hosting, just so he could spend more time talking to Chantelle, although being at the front lacked the privacy they had in the office.