The Strawberry Hearts Diner(17)

“Hush! You are going to be a big shot executive somewhere like New York City. Or maybe London,” Vicky said.

Emily looked up in time to lock gazes with Jancy. “I wish I’d majored in culinary arts so you’d let me come home and work right here the rest of my life.”

Jancy quickly bent out of sight and duckwalked over to the workstation, where she pulled out a stool and sat down. It wasn’t that Emily had ever been mean to her, but indifference could be even more painful. Emily had always looked through Jancy, not at her. If she did speak to her, it was with a curt hello and nothing more when they passed in the hallways.

Deep in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear Emily come back through the swinging doors until she was already in the kitchen. When she realized all three women were joining her in the tiny space, she hopped off the stool and grabbed the broom.

“I’ll get that other half now that y’all are finished. We should be getting the afternoon coffee drinkers here soon,” Jancy said.

“You don’t have to leave,” Nettie said.

“No problem. I’ll get everything ready for the supper run.” Jancy managed at least half a smile.

“Don’t put on that apron,” Vicky said.

At first Jancy thought she was talking to her, but then she glanced over her shoulder to see that Vicky was shaking a finger at Emily.

“You go on to the house and get settled in. Tomorrow is soon enough for you to start working here,” Vicky said.

Well, rats! Now I know I’m leaving at the end of next week. I’d hoped that she’d have her own things to do—like keeping her toenails and fingernails all pretty and maybe washing that gorgeous thick hair twice a day. But working here? That I do not need or want.

“I’ll unload my things after work. I’m not leavin’, Mama. This diner is like vitamin pills to me. I love waitressing. I get to see everyone and talk to the people.” Emily came through the doors wearing a bright-red apron, picked up an order pad and stuck it in her pocket along with a pen, and then swept her hair up into a ponytail that she secured with a tie from the pocket of her jeans.

“What needs to be done now, Jancy?” she asked.

Was the queen talking to her? Had she held out the golden scepter and given her permission to speak?

“I just work here. Vicky is the boss,” Jancy said.

“Okay, then, Mama, do you want me in the front or in the kitchen?” Emily asked as she picked up a bar rag and dusted off the cake domes, a job that Jancy had just finished.

“You and Jancy can work the front. I’ll help Nettie in the kitchen,” Vicky answered.

Jancy bit back a groan at that idea. But she’d only have to work with Emily one more day, because payday was Saturday night in most restaurants. That meant she could hitch a ride to Palestine and catch a bus to Louisiana on Sunday morning. Now that Queen Emily was in Pick, they didn’t need her anyway.

That would be jealousy rearing its ugly head. Her mother’s voice rang loud and clear in her head. Anyone can run from a problem, but you might make friends if you stick around awhile.

But Emily doesn’t like me, she argued.

The voice in her head didn’t say another word.



Nettie had never seen Emily tossing about such craziness. Lord love a duck! There was no way she’d ever live in a tent or that Vicky would let her work in the diner after having put her through all that schooling.

Emily dusted everything in sight but kept an eye on the windows as if she expected someone. And whoever it was that she was looking for sure made her nervous. “I can’t wait until Sunday to see everyone at church. I haven’t been home in two weekends.”

Nettie went up front and took a seat on a bar stool. Something had that girl just plumb jumpy. She was a bear when she was hungry—always had been. But this new blast of energy was something else, and Nettie intended to get to the bottom of it.

“You can’t begin to know how much I’ve missed home, Mama.” Emily started cleaning the cash register.

Whatever it was with that girl had nothing to do with Carlton Wolfe, because the whole town had spoken their minds about that. The way she was acting, Nettie would bet it wasn’t a little thing like Emily wanting to trade her car in, either. She’d approached that before and Vicky had told her she could have a new vehicle when she could pay for it herself. The little economy car that she’d gotten for her sixteenth birthday had come with the notice that it wouldn’t be replaced until Emily finished college. Whatever was going on with her was riding on the tail of a class-five tornado.

“So you don’t like big-city life?” Jancy asked.

“Hate it. Can’t imagine living in a place like New York City. I don’t even like Tyler,” she said.

Nettie gripped the edge of the counter and remembered the day Vicky had told her she was expecting a baby. It was exactly the way that Emily was behaving.

“You’ll get used to it,” Vicky said.

“No, I won’t,” Emily argued. “I wish you would have just let me help with the diner right out of high school.”

“In today’s world you need a job that does not involve carrying tea and coffee to people for more than twelve hours a day, seven days a week,” Vicky argued.

Emily shrugged. “Look, there’s Shane and Ryder driving up in the lot.”