I was snapped from my thoughts and turned back from where I’d been glancing around the restaurant to see Ron coming toward me. I smiled and stepped forward. “Hi, Ron. How are you?”
He seemed hesitant as he stuck his hand out and shook mine. “Been good. I didn’t hear you were back in town.”
My smile faltered slightly at the statement that made it obvious he’d heard I’d left town. “Oh, well, I just got back yesterday actually.”
“Hmm-hmm.” He looked at me expectantly, his discomfort obvious. I glanced nervously at the counter where two older women were whispering to each other as they looked back over their shoulders, their gazes directed toward me. I swallowed. How had I forgotten how small this town was? How everyone learned everything about others—sooner or later. I’d seen evidence of it at the diner a few days before and now knew the gossip had spread far and wide. I could only hope there were a few people in Linmoor willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.
Only now, I wasn’t just some girl who’d infected the high school with the bedbugs on her sweater. Now, I was the girl who’d publically shamed a Sawyer, and that crime would have me strung up in the public gossip square to give everyone the chance to throw their stones in my direction in the hopes of drawing blood.
I straightened my shoulders and looked Ron in the eye. “I’m hoping you have a waitressing position open and I could have my old job back.” I put the hope I’d spoken of in my smile as I waited for his response.
He shifted on his feet, his eyes darting away toward the two ladies at the counter. I thought I recognized one as a friend of Mrs. Sawyer, who had shown up with a casserole after I’d come home from the hospital with Hudson, though I couldn’t be sure. It was a deep sadness inside me that that time was still such a blur. “I’m sorry, Annalia, but we don’t have any positions available right now.”
My heart dropped. “Oh. Because I thought I saw an ad in the paper. That’s why I came here first. I was hoping you’d remember how hard I worked. You once told me I was the best waitress you had.” I smiled again, trying to tap into the employee/employer mutual respect we’d had. I hadn’t really seen an ad in the paper—I actually hadn’t bothered to look—but the turnover at IHOP was high and there had always been an ad in the paper in years past, so I took my chances with that small fib.
His cheekbones colored slightly, and I knew I’d been right about the ad. I also knew I was embarrassing him and myself, too, but I really needed a job. I’d been so sure that if I could get one quickly anywhere, it would be here.
He sighed. “That position has been filled. Sorry again.” His jaw set and I knew from the experience of working with him that he wouldn’t change his mind.
I sighed too, nodding. “Okay. Well thanks anyway.” I almost offered my cell number in case a position became available, but I highly suspected he was lying to me, and that would have only further embarrassed us both.
I turned and headed for the door and as I did, I heard the hostess whisper, “Is it true she abandoned her own baby?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “You can’t always understand some cultures.”
The words slammed into me, the sound of the door closing providing the additional sound effect of rejection. You can’t always understand some cultures? Had he assumed I’d left Hudson because my Mexican heritage left some moral void inside me? I tried to muster some indignation but it only flared for a second before it fizzled out like a fire being lit in the rain.
I walked to my car and got in, sitting in the parking lot with the window rolled down for a second. Movement outside my car surprised me, and I sucked in a startled breath as I turned my head.
“Sorry, ma’am, didn’t mean to scare you.” He was an older Mexican man with a weathered, though handsome face and an easy smile. He removed the hat that had been on his head and smoothed his black hair away from his face.
“That’s, uh, that’s all right.” I felt at a disadvantage sitting in my car while he stood outside my window, but he stepped back and put some distance between himself and my vehicle as if he’d read my mind. I instantly felt safer.
“I couldn’t help overhear you were asking for a job, and see, my family owns a restaurant just down the road and we sure could use an extra waitress.”
“Oh . . . I . . . really?”
His smile widened. “Seemed kinda like fate the way I was just passing by and happened to hear the exchange.”
“Yes, I . . . thank you.” I tilted my head, considering the restaurants I knew were nearby. “Abuelo’s?” Grandfather’s. I’d seen the restaurant from the outside, but I’d never been there. Hope soared inside me at the sudden change in circumstance.
“Sí. You go today and ask for Rosa. Tell her Alejandro sent you for the waitressing position.” He smiled and tipped his hat before replacing it on his head and walking away.
I leaned out the window and called, “Thank you.”
He shot a wide smile over his shoulder and then got in an old truck parked a few spaces away and drove out of the lot.
I hesitated for just a moment, attempting to regain my equilibrium. I’d just gone from hopeful, to disappointed, to angry and humiliated, to hopeful again in the space of fifteen minutes, and that was a lot of internal bouncing around, even for me.
I drove the short distance to Abuelo’s and parked in the lot, telling myself not to get my hopes up too high from the word of a stranger I’d just met.
When I opened the front door, the delicious smell of grilling meat and the soft sounds of mariachi music playing on overhead speakers greeted me.
The space was open and airy with tall, beamed ceilings and lots of windows, but the décor was quaint and decidedly Mexican inspired with vibrant colors, large, wooden chandeliers that appeared rustic and handcrafted, and a mural that took up one entire wall. I tried to take in the details of the art, but I was too far away.
“Hello. One?” A smiling young girl approached me, holding a menu. Though she spoke English, her Spanish accent was pronounced.
“Oh. No, actually. I’m here to see Rosa?”
“Ah. Sí. Un minuto.” She walked away, turning toward a set of double doors and disappearing inside. I stood waiting, my nerves building. After a couple of minutes, the doors opened again and an older woman appeared, walking toward me.
“Hello. I’m Rosa.” Rosa was a lovely Mexican woman who looked to be in her forties, with her black hair in a low bun at the nape of her neck, wide inquisitive eyes, and a lilting Spanish accent.
I smiled and held out my hand. I hoped she couldn’t feel that it was shaking slightly. I’d never been very good at putting myself out there—and I’d done it once this morning to terrible results. Rosa’s hand was warm and soft and her smile was the same.