THE LAST SHIFT.
1141 Words
By the time I make it back to The Copper Kettle, the evening rush is already dying down.
A few lingering customers sip their coffee while soft music hums through the speakers. The frantic lunch rush from earlier has long disappeared, replaced by the familiar clatter of dishes and low, easy conversations.
I let out a long sigh as I push the door open. "I might actually miss this."
The little brass bell above the door jingles. Poppy looks up from wiping down one of the tables and immediately grins.
"There she is! Executive Secretary Diane!"
"Here I am," I laugh, pulling off my jacket. "Poppy, it’s been such a long day."
"Same." She tosses a cleaning cloth straight at my chest. "C'mon. Since you're abandoning us, the least you can do is help clean."
"I worked here for months!"
"Exactly. Consider it your grand farewell shift."
I catch the cloth and shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips. "Is this really why you called me back here?"
"Nope. Well... it’s not the *only* reason."
I laugh, stepping up to wipe down the table beside hers. For a few minutes, we fall into our comfortable, rhythm-driven silence.
"Dianeeee!"
I don't even have to turn around. "Yes, Maggie?"
Margaret Cooper emerges from the kitchen with his usual grumpy expression, though his features soften the moment he reaches me. Most people expect the owner of The Copper Kettle to be an elderly woman when they hear everyone calling him Maggie. Instead, they're greeted by a balding man in his late fifties.
He folds his arms over his chest. "So... I hear you've gone and got yourself a proper job."
"I got it, Maggie," I smile softly.
He clicks his tongue dramatically. "About time. I'm finally going to have some peace around here."
"Is that so?"
"Congratulations, Diane." He shakes his head, but he's smiling now. "I'm proud of you, kid."
The words catch me off guard, hitting me right in the chest.
"You came here from Birmingham looking for a chance," he says quietly. "Look at you now."
I swallow hard, pushing down the sudden lump in my throat. "Thank you, Maggie."
He waves his hand, cutting me off before I can get emotional. "Just don't disappear on us. Come by whenever you're hungry."
"I will."
"And don't expect free food."
"Of course not."
He points a stern finger at me. "Bring your new fancy co-workers, too."
Before I can answer, Chef Murray pushes through the swinging kitchen doors, wiping his flour-dusted hands on his apron. "So it's true."
I grin. "It's true, Chef."
He opens his arms wide. "Come here."
I don't hesitate. I wrap him in a huge hug.
"I'm going to miss you, Diane," he chuckles, patting my back.
"I'm going to miss you too, Murray."
"You'll do great over there," he says, stepping back to look at me. "Don't let those fancy office people intimidate you." He points a wooden spoon in my direction. "Show them who you are."
"I will." I think back to how he always listened to my worries and even helped test me while I studied for the assessments. Leaving him is going to be the hardest part.
He disappears back into the kitchen before poking his head back out. "Oh—and don't leave yet."
I blink. "Why?"
"I baked a special cake for you as a congratulatory present."
"Murray..."
Poppy claps excitedly beside me. "Aww, Murray! I knew I smelled fresh cake!"
"Both of you should enjoy it," Murray says, beaming with pride. "I baked it straight from the heart." He shoots a sharp look at Maggie. "And no, I did not use the restaurant's ingredients, because I know you're sitting there counting the eggs."
I laugh so hard my stomach aches. "Thanks, Chef."
***
An hour later, I carefully fold my apron and place it on the counter beside my name tag and locker key. For a moment, I simply stare at them. This little café has been my entire life for months. I've dreamed about leaving almost every single day, but now that it's actually happening, I don't feel nearly as fearless as I thought I would.
"Hey. Let’s go," Poppy nudges my shoulder gently. "Looks like Ethan is making something incredible again tonight."
Maggie waves us off from behind the register. "Goodnight, girls."
"Goodnight, Maggie!"
Poppy balances a small white cake box carefully in her hands as we step out into the cool evening air. "The famous Chef Murray farewell cake," she says dramatically.
"I still can't believe he actually baked one for me."
For the first few minutes of our walk home, neither of us speaks. Then Poppy nudges my arm with her elbow.
"So... what actually happened at BBS? I thought you'd be bouncing off the walls."
I let out a long, heavy sigh. "Poppy... I was mistaken. The Project Director *is* Mr. Boisnoir."
She looks straight ahead, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Huh?"
"He's not just the Project Director."
"What do you mean?"
"He's the President of BBS."
She stops dead in her tracks. "...Really?" Her mouth falls open in total shock. "No way."
"Poppy—"
"No, you don't understand!" She nearly drops the cake box before catching it against her chest. "The man you dumped half the kitchen sink on..."
"...is my boss."
"The boss?"
"The boss."
She stares at me for another second before groaning dramatically into the night sky. "Girl... you have the worst luck I've ever seen in my life. No offense." She starts walking again. "So what happened? Did he fire you or something ?"
"I haven't even started properly yet!"
"So...?"
"He wants me to pay for his ridiculously expensive suit."
"Well, that's fair," Poppy nods thoughtfully. "I can pitch in a little if—"
"Don't worry," I cut her off. "I'll handle it. I have a job that pays well now, you know.“
She hooks her arm securely through mine.
"Oh? Listen to you."Look, whatever happened today already happened. You can't change it okay? So stop replaying it in your head and move on."
A small smile finds its way onto my face. “I'll try."
For a while, we simply walk in comfortable silence, the evening breeze brushing gently against us.
"I still can't believe I'm leaving The Copper Kettle," I say quietly. "I've wanted this for so long... but now that it's happening, it feels strange."
"I know what you mean, I'll miss it too. " Poppy says softly.
I glance at her. “Wait."
She suddenly becomes very interested in the pavement beneath her feet.
"You've said that twice now. What do you mean?"
She doesn't answer.
“Poppy …”
She lets out a small sigh before looking up at me.
"Actually..." She exhales. "There's something I haven't told you."
- Writer
