Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I spend a few more minutes mentally preparing for the conversation with Ruth before I open my car door and step outside.
The cool, brisk winter air wraps around me, helping to bring down the anxiety rushing through my blood and making my face hot.
The worst that Ruth can say is no, but that simple word would crush me. I already don't know what my next step would be, and although I probably shouldn't have, I've already placed so much hope in the question. I don't know what I'll do if this doesn't work out.
My stomach is turning by the time I pull open the door to the diner, grateful that Ruth is somewhere in the back when the bell chimes, announcing my entrance. It gives me a few more breaths to attempt to calm my nerves.
"Give me just a minute!" Ruth says from somewhere in the back. "Have a seat, and I'll be right there."
Instead of hollering that I'm not here to eat, I follow the sound of her voice to the back with a prayer on my mind that she doesn't get angry that I've invaded the employee-only space.
"Ruth?" I say when I spot her near the sink, getting ready to run some dishes through a commercial-looking dishwasher.
I cock an eyebrow. I had no idea the diner had such a modern convenience, but I guess when you're running a one-woman show most of the time, it's necessary.
"Oh, hello dear," Ruth says with a broad smile when she darts a glance over her shoulder.
"Good afternoon," I return. "I was hoping to speak with you."
"That's fine, dear. So long as you don't mind me working while you do. My extra help doesn't start for another week. I swear keeping college students on the work schedule sure makes things difficult during their holiday breaks."
"I imagine it does," I say, wringing my hands and wondering if this is the best time.
She sounds a little stressed from having to work the shift alone, and I know better than anyone that asking a favor when someone is in a mood decreases the likelihood that I'll get the answer I'm looking for.
"Sweetheart?" she prods when I remain silent. "Are you looking for a job?"
This could be the perfect segue, but I still falter with getting the words out.
Another long silence floats between us to the point that Ruth grabs a hand towel and turns to face me, concern marking her aging face.
"Are you having some sort of fit?"
I huff a laugh and give her a smile.
"No, ma'am. I am sort of looking for a job, but not as—"
The sound of the front bell chimes, sending an electric sound ringing through the back. I imagine it's set up that way so she doesn't miss a customer. What sounds like a sweet little chime upfront is more of a gong echoing loudly in the back.
"Hold that thought, dear. Let me get them settled, and then we can speak."
I dip my head and take a step out of her way so she can pass. The area back here isn't all that big, and it seems like it could be convenient for not wasting steps but it is also a hindrance when more than one person is back here working.
The knock at the back door startles me, but I poke my head around the corner to see Ruth laughing and speaking with an older couple who have taken a seat in one of the booths. I figure her being in a better mood helps my case, and since I like to be helpful, I walk toward the back door, and after spending a moment to figure out the ancient lock, I manage to get it open.
I smile at the delivery man, noticing the way he grins back at me.
"Do I need to sign something?"
He hands me a clipboard with an electronic tablet on it, and I scratch out my name with the stylus as the man pulls his dolly into the back. He takes the clipboard back from me with a thank you before leaving.
I look down at the stack of boxes and my mouth drops open. That's how Ruth finds me.
"You had a delivery," I mutter.
There's an uneasy pause that seems to last an eternity, but then she shuffles past me as if her secrets and lies aren't right there, staring me in the face.
"Thank you, dear."
I tilt my head to the side as I watch her scuttle past toward the large freezer door.
"Have you considered retiring?" I ask, the question hitting me out of the blue.
"Are you here to make an offer on the diner?" she asks, her astute eyes narrowing.
I take a moment to think about it, but what this woman built doesn't resemble my goals at all. I've never wanted to be a short-order cook, and there's just too much that goes into running a business the way this one is structured.