As Luck Would Have It

Chapter 1From the moment we opened at six that morning, the diner had been exceptionally busy. It was now well after lunch time, and though the crowd had finally started to thin, I was regretting the choice of the baby blue high-top Converse, as they didn’t give me enough support. They coordinated with the T-shirt I was wearing, though, so I’d sacrificed my feet. It wasn’t the first time I’d made a bad choice in the name of fashion. I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. A boy had to look good in order to feel confident, after all. Putting my aching feet and legs out of my mind for now—though I promised myself a soak in the tub when I finally got home—I handed off the Corrigans’ order to the delivery driver, checked that the Jansons’ had full glasses, then headed to the new patron in the corner table. He was alone, though he’d taken over a four top, and he was studying the menu as though it would give him all the answers to life. My dad’s meatloaf was out-of-this-world, melt-in-your-mouth good, but I didn’t think it would solve this guy’s problems. He was probably in his mid-to-late forties if the slight graying at the temples were to be believed. That, plus the tiny crow’s feet gave him away. He looked like a man who squinted a lot. I studied him for a long moment. Dark hair and eyes, slumped shoulders, crisp dress shirt. I was fairly certain I’d never seen him before, and even though I didn’t know everyone in town, I was pretty good at faces. Landry’s Fall wasn’t that big but we got a lot of tourists. Tourism was the town’s bread and butter, and had kept this diner afloat since my grandfather opened it fifty years ago. It wasn’t unusual to see an unfamiliar face. I sauntered over, customer-service smile plastered on my face. Not that it was hard to smile. I loved this place, loved the customers, and was proud of what my dad and I did. Plus, I really loved talking to people. So it wasn’t a hardship by any means. “Hey there, gorgeous,” I said when I got to the table. Seeing as he’d already been sitting there for a good ten minutes, I laid the charm on thick to make up for it. “My name’s Kyle and I’ll be taking care of you today. Are you ready to order?” The sneer on the man’s face when he looked at me almost made me take a step back. But the derision in his tone made my blood boil. “Do I look like I’m ready to order?” I bristled and didn’t try to hide my own ire. “There’s no reason to be rude. You could have just said you needed a few more minutes. Didn’t anyone teach you manners?” I practically watched the storm roll into his eyes. His features went tight and I prepared myself, unsurprised by his next words. “Does your manager know you speak to customers like that?” “As luck would have it,” I said, laying on the sweetness and adding an eyelash flutter for extra effect, “I am the manager. So I would say the answer is absolutely yes.” I was ready for the showdown, fully expecting him to become an enraged, entitled customer. For a split second, the rage flashed in his—admittedly pretty—brown eyes. But from one second to the next, he deflated. Like a switch had flipped. He took a breath, then another, before knuckling one eye. “I’m sorry.” His voice was soft, but clear and full of conviction. “I sincerely apologize. I allowed my mood to color our interaction and that is inexcusable. But I do ask for your forgiveness as my rudeness was uncalled for.” I blinked. Blinked again. It took me a few seconds to wrap my head around his words. And another few seconds to come down from the readiness to argue. I didn’t think this had ever happened before. I’d had my fair share of rude customers over the years, usually tourists, but none of them had ever backed down so fast nor checked their own attitude. I smiled, for real this time. This man had redeemed himself well. “Of course. We all have bad days and sometimes we react without thinking. Let’s forget it ever happened and start over.” I straightened up and dramatically cleared my throat, then brought up the customer-service smile again. “Good afternoon, kind sir. How are you this fine day? My name is Kyle and it would be my absolute pleasure to serve you today. Are you ready to order or do you need a few more minutes with the menu?” I added a wink just to be saucy. I liked to think it was the wink that did it. Because the man smiled and even let out a small, soft chuckle. He shook his head, almost as though he couldn’t believe my theatrics. That was okay. I took it as a win. “Thank you, Kyle.” The man let out another quick chuckle, then picked up the menu again, turning his attention to it. “I have to admit, one of my problems is I’m having trouble making up my mind. What do you suggest?” I pursed my lips, making a show of looking him over. “Are you a meat kind of man?” The way he choked on air, coughing for a solid sixty seconds, let me know he’d caught the double entendre. And perhaps more importantly, because of the smile gracing his lips, that he wasn’t offended by it. Not that I’d tried to make it. After all this time, it was second nature to me. To be honest, I couldn’t be held responsible for at least half the things that came out of my mouth. I grinned and waggled my eyebrows, just to see if he would laugh. Cranky-patron-turned-amenable-guest did not disappoint. He stifled it, though, and I had the insane urge to make him laugh out loud, from his belly, with no inhibition. The impulse was so strong that, for just a few seconds, I was struck speechless. I gave myself a mental shake and pulled back my focus. “I do eat meat, yes.” The flat delivery gave me zero indication on whether or not he was answering the question with double meaning or not. Not that it really mattered. I flirted on a regular basis and very rarely meant it as anything more than banter and fun. I had no idea who this man was, but it was more than likely he was in town only for a short vacation. And while I wasn’t opposed to a bit of fun, I tried to steer clear of the tourists these days. I was over the whole one-night-stand thing. Mostly. So the flirting didn’t matter, even if he was flirting back. I just let it slide and moved along. The diner was filling up again and Kamiyah couldn’t do it all by herself. “How do you feel about a Reuben on rye with house-made chips?” The man smiled and it lit up his whole face. I was struck by how attractive he was. Older than me, but maybe not as old as I’d first thought. My heart gave a little thump. “That sounds great, Kyle. Thank you for suggesting it.” He had a really nice voice. Deep and smooth. The kind I could picture narrating books or on the radio. I nodded and reminded myself I was doing my job and also that I needed to get moving. “Anything to drink?” “Water with a lemon?” “You got it.” I shot at him with finger-guns complete with the tongue click, before rolling my eyes at myself. What had gotten into me? “I’ll bring that right out and your sandwich will be a few minutes. Sit tight.” And then I rapped the table twice with my knuckles before turning. Which was just about the stupidest thing I could do. I wasn’t easily embarrassed, but as I walked away from the handsome man, I gave myself a mental slap. It would have been a physical slap if there weren’t so many people around. Some of them who would catch the action for what it actually was. I didn’t feel like explaining myself to those people. So I took a quiet and discreet breath, shook it off, and typed his order into the computer. I added extra chips, no charge, just to be nice. Because he’d apologized and meant it, and turned around his attitude. It was certainly not because he was pretty. I dropped off his water, almost asked him his name before I checked myself, then scurried off to take other orders, bring other meals, chat up other patrons. I was my most charming self to everyone I came across. I was not paying special attention to the pretty man who was now all smiles and extra thanks when I brought his food. And I certainly didn’t check on him any more often than the other diners. I was just doing my job. That was it. Nothing more. And I wasn’t disappointed when I turned to check on him only to find the table already empty. I hustled over to see the check I’d left covering several bills. It was easy enough to stack his dishes and carry them in one hand. I picked up the bill and money with the other. After I dumped the dishes in the bus bin, I headed to the computer to close out his check. It was only then that I realized he’d left me a nearly fifty dollar tip. On a twelve dollar meal. I stared at the bills in my hand for much longer than was probably necessary. Three twenties, crisp but otherwise innocuous. No matter how long I looked, it didn’t change. We had signs up at every table explaining we paid the servers a living wage and while tipping was appreciated if the customer was feeling generous, it was not necessary. Even one twenty would have been a ridiculously high tip. Especially since, more often than not, my entire tip was “keep the change.” Maybe he was trying to make up for his attitude at first. But he’d already done that with an apology and a change in demeanor. Not that I would say no to the tip. I certainly wasn’t going to try to track him down to return it. Maybe he was just a nice guy who always tipped well and our first interaction had been a fluke. “Kyle?” “Yeah, Dad?” I didn’t turn from the computer, but my dad’s voice startled me back into action, and I tapped the screen to log in the payment, tip, and close out the ticket. “You okay?” “Yeah, Dad.” My dad made a noise in the back of his throat, the one he’d been making since I was a kid when he didn’t quite believe me but he wasn’t going to push. I finished what I was doing, then turned to the food window. Dad was staring at me, one thick brow quirked up, waiting for me to explain myself. I’d gotten my eyes from him, the mix of brown and green, and sometimes it was like looking in the mirror. I gave him my most innocent smile. He wasn’t fooled. He hadn’t been since I’d been about four, which was a shame, really. “Big tip. Like a stupid big tip. It was a surprise.” I shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal. “Mhmm.” Dad snorted a laugh. “You sure you’re good?” “Yeppers!” I did a little wiggle dance to prove it, and my dad’s face broke into his trademark smile. I’d gotten that from him, too. “Fine. Get to work.” “You too, old man.” I pointed imperiously behind him where he and Darien had been hard at work all day. He waved me off and I let out a happy laugh before I turned away. Across the room, I saw someone lift their hand and so I firmly shoved my brain back into work mode and did just that.