14
THREE HOURS LATER, I sat across from Rosie, who’d inherited Ruth’s diner from her mother several years back. As she looked over my job application, I studied the rail-thin, bleach-blonde, weather-faced woman and wondered how old she was. She seemed to have a lot of energy.
“You’re new in town?” she asked in a gravelly voice.
“Yes, we just moved here a couple of days ago.”
“Have you ever waitressed before?”
I sighed. “No. I worked at a boutique, though, so I’ve used a register before and have experience with customers.”
She nodded. “You’ll be on your feet a lot. Do you have any problems with that?”
I shook my head.
“Are you available to work nights?”
I bit the side of my lip. “I’d prefer days, if that’s possible.”
She studied me. “To be honest, I really need the help at night.
