A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(23)

The door opened again, and a steady stream of customers filed into the café. Bethanne glanced outside, seeing that the bus had arrived ahead of schedule. She’d been too distracted by the bikers to notice. She grabbed the coffeepot again and moved toward the counter, which had filled up first. Annie had taken on waitress duty, as well, and the two of them were running from one end of the café to the other. In no time the two coffeepots were empty.

“I need coffee down here,” an ill-tempered man shouted from the rear of the café.

“Coming right up,” Bethanne promised. She started taking orders and shuffled them to Marie as fast as she could. Once the coffee had finished brewing, she hurried to the grouch by the window. He had an entire booth to himself.

“Is this decaf?” he demanded.

“No…I don’t believe so.”

“Get me some decaf.”

“I’ll need to brew that. It’ll be a few minutes.”

“What kind of joint is this?” he complained loudly.

“Would you like me to take your order?” she asked, thinking charitably that he was probably hungry and tired.

“No, I want my decaf coffee.”

“Is that all?”

“No,” he said pointedly, “and the longer you stand here arguing with me, the longer I’m going to have to wait for my coffee. I have to get back on that bus, you know.”

Bethanne realized she should have automatically brewed a pot of decaffeinated coffee. There was simply too much to remember.

“I’ll get it,” Annie called out, and hurried toward the coffee machine.

Bethanne was still taking orders when she noticed the decaffeinated coffee was ready. Dropping off more orders with Marie, she picked up the coffeepot and rushed over to the complainer. He sat with his arms crossed, scowling. He didn’t bother to right his cup so she did it for him, and filled it to the brim.

“You overfilled it,” he snarled. “Now there’s no room for cream.”

“Sorry.” She reached for a second cup and poured again, leaving it three-quarters full.

“That’s only half a cup!” he nearly shouted. “I suppose you intend to charge me for a full one?”

Bethanne started to add more coffee when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Rooster, the older biker, stood directly behind her.

“Listen, buddy,” he said, and the threat in his voice made her shiver. She couldn’t see his face but she saw the reaction of the man with the coffee and he seemed to cower in the booth.

“I’m real hungry, and when I get hungry I get cranky. You’re delaying my meal. Trust me, you don’t want to see what happens when I get cranky.”

The other man didn’t move. In fact, it looked as if he’d stopped breathing. The rattle of dishes died down and conversation fell to a soft hush. Soon the whole café had gone silent as Rooster bent over the man in the booth.

“That coffee’s just fine now, isn’t it?” Rooster asked.

The other man nearly jerked his head off in his eagerness to assure Rooster it was.

“That’s what I thought.” Rooster gently patted Bethanne’s arm as he returned to his friends.

“I think your order’s up now,” she said. He winked as he passed by, and Bethanne did her best to disguise a smile but knew she hadn’t succeeded.

Still grinning she walked back to the kitchen and placed the orders for the four bikers on a large tray and delivered them to the table.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“I didn’t do that for you,” Rooster said, fork in hand. “I like my mashed potatoes and gravy hot.”

She was about to turn away when she became aware of Max, the man who sat beside Rooster, watching her. His eyes, dark and sober, met hers for a long moment. His look seemed to go straight through her and Bethanne felt herself flush. Her reaction embarrassed her but she didn’t know how to explain it. She wasn’t seeking any connection, romantic or otherwise. She was there to do a job—help Ruth’s friend—and that was it. Glancing away, Bethanne hurried back to the kitchen.

Eight

“Mom,” Annie said from the backseat of the car. “Have you ever been to Vegas?” This trip was turning out better than she’d hoped. But then, her expectations hadn’t been that high.

When her grandmother announced the day before that they were going to spend the night in Spokane, Annie had wanted to scream with frustration. Spokane? It was an all-right town, but it sure wasn’t exciting.

Well, visiting Pendleton, Oregon, wasn’t exactly like being in Paris. To be fair, they’d had a decent afternoon. She’d actually had fun waiting tables at the café, which wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked. The next time she ate in a restaurant, Annie knew she’d see the waitress in an entirely different light.

She’d suggested Pendleton because of her father. A little while ago, he’d mentioned that he’d been born there, although Annie couldn’t remember why they’d even been talking about it. That part wasn’t important, anyway. The one thing that did matter was getting a feel for what her mother was thinking about her father. Driving to Pendleton was Annie’s way of casually bringing him into the conversation. She wanted her mother to be thinking about him, to miss him and to consider reuniting the family.