Susie’s Café occupied the corner of a shopping center in Oakbrook between Chico’s and a jewelry store. Red and blue signs promised a Euro cheerfulness, which was enhanced by blue-checked plastic tablecloths inside, replicas of windmills on the walls, and lots of travel posters. The place was nearly empty, and only one woman was behind the counter, but the meager offerings of pastries and sandwiches in the display case indicated either that lunch had been successful or that the place was on its last legs.
Georgia approached the woman, who was wearing a blue-checked gingham dress with an apron tied around her waist. She looked ridiculous.
“Hi,” she said, trying to sound pleasant.
The woman gave her a curt nod. Not the warmest of welcomes. Did she feel as foolish as she looked?
“I’m in the mood for something sweet.” Georgia smiled.
“Well”—the woman waved her hand toward a line of pastries—“we only have these left.”
Georgia pretended to study them but tried to peer through the display case to see if there was any wrap on the counter. Nothing. She glanced up. “Glad business is so good.”
The woman’s gave her a blank look. Maybe it wasn’t.
“I can’t decide. Why don’t you recommend something? Oh, and it’s to go. I need to get home before the snow starts.”
The woman studied her for a moment, then slid the display case open and removed a small apple crumb cake. “How about this?”
“Perfect. How much?”
“Four fifty-nine.”
“Okay. Could you wrap it for me?”
The woman disappeared into the back with the crumb cake.
Georgia shifted her weight. A moment later the woman reappeared with a small white bag. Did every restaurant use white bags? Georgia dug out a five from her wallet and peeked into the bag while the woman rang it up. It had been wrapped, but the wrapper was very different from Benny’s. It was a tissue decorated with blue and white checks, not the red and yellow stripes Benny’s used. Georgia pulled out the pastry. “Oh, what a nice wrapping,” she said.
The woman scowled as if Georgia had just said the lamest thing in the world. Which she had.
“It matches the tablecloths,” the woman said in a dull voice.
Georgia glanced at a table. “It sure does.” Then she said, “You know, when I was here before, I thought I remembered the wrapping being red and yellow. Or at least it had those colors in it.”
The woman’s expression seemed to imply “What kind of idiot focuses on the wrap?” But Georgia was the customer. “We haven’t used those in six months. We upgraded.” Her listless emphasis on the word “upgraded” made Georgia think the woman didn’t give a damn about wraps one way or the other.
“Six months? It’s been that long since I’ve been here?” She paused. “I guess time really does fly.” Oh God. Couldn’t she do better than that?
The woman tilted her head, but her scowl deepened. “Will there be anything else?”
“No. You’ve been very helpful.”