Bernie was in an especially foul mood that Saturday morning. It was something about the grill not firing up correctly, although I hadn’t really understood his grumblings fully. I hadn’t asked him to clarify, either.
All I knew was that any orders I took would require him to cook on the stove top or in the oven, which made more work for both him and Larry, not to mention longer waits for our customers.
“Just tell them we’re only serving baked goods this morning,” he grunted at me. “We’ll have to shut down for lunch, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Did you break it?”
“Well, no.”
“Then stop apologizing so much,” he said with a grunt. “You make me crazy for all the things you’re sorry about.”
“Sorry?”
“Very funny.”
Fortunately, most of the people who came for breakfast were happy to eat a doughnut or even a piece of pie in place of a fried egg and hash brown potatoes.
“Just as long as you have coffee,” a few of them said.
Right around ten that morning, the breakfast crowd thinned and David came in, sitting at his usual table. He had the paper in front of him, open to the Marmaduke comic, chuckling to himself.
“What’s that silly dog up to today?” I asked, walking up to his table.
“Same old, same old.” He folded the paper. “I was thinking about going to see a movie today.”
“Oh you were?”
“The new Jimmy Stewart one,” he said. “It’s a Western. Would you like to go with me?”
“Sure.” I looked at the clock on the wall. “I get out early. We’re not staying open for lunch.”
“Sounds fine.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go home and change my clothes.”
“All right. Maybe I’ll get you around two o’clock?”
I told him that would be fine and he asked if he could have a doughnut and a glass of milk. Behind the counter I put a fresh pastry on a plate for him, using the can of whipped cream to make it into a smiley face. I poured his milk and turned to go back to his table.
That was when the bell over the door jingled.
The man who walked in was in full dress uniform. Deep green jacket and pants, lighter green shirt beneath. Shiny brass buttons and badges on the breast of the jacket.
“Hello?” I said, still holding the plate and glass. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so, miss,” the man said. “I’m looking for an address.”
“Just a minute.” I took the glass and plate to David, not feeling if I put it on the table or not. Then I went to the soldier. “What’s the address?”
I swallowed hard.
“I have it here in my pocket.” He reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and unfolding it. “It’s on Lewis Street.”
My body felt light, as if it might float away without me even realizing it. I looked at the paper.
Jacobson.
“David?” I said. “Tell Bernie I went home.”
“Miss?” the man beside me said. “Are you all right?”
“Bernie will give you directions.”
Without another word, without taking off my apron or grabbing my coat, I ran out the door.
The cold air shocked me back to awareness.
I had to get home.