Christmas Home (The Coming Home #6)

4. Clyde

four

Clyde

“ W hatcha need doin’?” I asked the lady currently looking me up and down.

“Well, I need a short-order cook, but that’s only from four in the morning until Lydia comes in by six. After that, I need someone to bus tables, clean bathrooms, mop floors, and keep the trash cleared. You think you can do all that?”

“Seems like that’s what I’s made for, ma’am,” I said, and she smiled.

“Well, it’s not a glamorous life, running a restaurant, but it is a living,” she said.

“So, I’m hired?” I asked.

“As long as you’ve got your social security card and ID. I’ll sign you up right now.”

I’d never been so relieved to have a job in all my life, even if it was back to the same shit I’d done since I was sixteen. I knew how to clean a toilet and how to keep the back end of a restaurant running. I also knew how to keep my damned mouth shut and avoid the drama that got other folks fired.

As long as I was in Crawford City, I was sure I’d have a job. Well, until the cops found me and dragged my ass back to Georgia, that is.

Just as Mrs. Cole brought me the paperwork, my stomach let out the loudest hunger roll imaginable. She just laughed. “Son, you fill that application out while you fill your belly. Go on and get you a plate.”

I looked at the older woman with my mouth agape. “Um, I don’t got no money for breakfast,” I said, embarrassed.

“I didn’t figure you’d be giving me money, son. Since I’m now your employer, the money will be comin’ from over here, don’t you ’spect?”

I smiled but blushed from embarrassment. “Maybe you can put it on my tab.”

“More like she’s gonna take it outta your ass when she gets you up and working,” a smart-looking young woman said as she dashed out the back and past our table.

“Oh, she’s right,” Mrs. Cole said. “I don’t have time to be messing with lazy people, and since I ’spect you to work hard while you’re here, I need you to be in tip-top shape. Someone who ain’t been eatin’ proper can’t work proper. So, like I said, go get your plate filled up, then finish that application. When you’re done,” she said as she stood to go, “I’ve got some chores need doing, and I can use you right away.”

It was still early. I’d made a point to get here at six in the morning, and boy, I could use a bite to eat. I looked at the steaming buffet full of real eggs, bacon, sausage, and biscuits and gravy. Not to mention hash browns, cheesy potatoes, and grits, which I normally hated—

Now’s not the time to be choosy . If these people are willing to feed you, don’t be an idiot. Pocket your pride, eat, and be thankful.

I tried gulping down the food so I could get started, but damn, I savored every mouthful. Oh, my soul, it was delicious food. Obviously made from scratch and nothing like the rubbery eggs, hockey puck-like biscuits, and pasty gravy typical of buffet breakfasts. I practically licked my plate clean, then hurriedly completed my application, and didn’t protest when Mrs. Cole encouraged me to get a second helping before she disappeared into the back.

I’d just popped the last bite of biscuits and gravy into my mouth and moaned for what had to be the hundredth time when Mrs. Cole refilled my coffee cup, then sat down across from me.

“So, I checked your references while you, well, while you devoured that,” she said, her eyes twinkling before becoming serious again. “Your last place of business said you lit out of there like your hind end was on fire. Wanna share anything about that?”

I thought about all the reasons I could give her. I was an expert at lying about being hit and hiding my bruises. But I liked this woman and decided I’d had enough lies to last a lifetime, so I pulled my turtleneck down and showed her the evidence of where the SOB had tried to strangle me.

“It was run or die,” I said as I let the turtleneck slip back into place.

“Good heavens, that does explain it. You worried about him coming for you?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Only my cousin knows I’m here. Hey, how did you know it wasn’t a she?”

She just smiled. “Could’ve been, but I get a strong vibe you aren’t the kind to have a she on your arm.”

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

Mrs. Cole leaned back and laughed out loud. “Oh, son, if it was, half the town would boycott me. No, you’re welcome here, and if that one,” she said, pointing at my neck, “comes here looking for trouble, you let me know. We don’t have much stomach for that sorta thing around these parts.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I’d already started looking forward to working at the café and not just for the free food that hopefully came with the job.

She gave me a knowing look, then said, “I told your previous employer they could mail your last paycheck here. I didn’t know why you hadn’t told them where you were going, but I know to respect someone’s privacy, Mr. Griffin. As long as that privacy don’t bring trouble to me and my establishment, you’ve got nothing but respect here.” She stared at me until I nodded in understanding. “Now, you finish that coffee, then I’m going to show you the back. I need my freezer cleaned up and reorganized. I figure after that big breakfast, you can handle the cold, and I’m expecting another shipment this afternoon, so I need that shelf space cleaned off.”

I nodded, took another swig of my coffee, and followed Mrs. Cole to the back. She appeared pleased that I’d picked up my plates, silverware, and cup and placed them in the sink without being asked.

As I stood in the freezer, rearranging and discarding the old boxes, I couldn’t help but feel I’d landed in a different kind of place. A special place. I reached up and gently rubbed along the tender bruises beneath my turtleneck. I really hoped I was right about Crawford City because I was due for some good fortune.