Chapter 2: The Waitress
1879 Words
The first thing Eliana noticed every morning was the smell of coffee.
Not the expensive kind people ordered because the menu said artisan blend. Just honest coffee. Strong enough to wake the dead and bitter enough to remind you that life wasn’t always sweet.
She liked it.
At six-thirty every morning, before the first customers arrived, Eliana stood behind the counter of the restaurant with her hair pulled into a neat bun, sleeves rolled to her elbows, and a small notebook tucked into the pocket of her apron.
She checked the tables.
One.
Two.
Three.
The flowers on table seven needed changing.
The sugar bowl on table four was almost empty.
And someone had forgotten to refill the water bottles.
She sighed.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Eliana turned.
Hayden stood behind her, holding two cups of coffee.
“What?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The face you make when you’re about to start doing everybody else’s job.”
Eliana looked at the tables.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Hayden handed her a cup.
“Drink.”
Eliana accepted it.
“You sound like my mother.”
“Your mother sounds sensible.”
“She is.”
“Then listen to her.”
Eliana smiled and took a sip.
The warmth spread through her chest.
“Thank you.”
Hayden leaned against the counter.
“You’ve been here since six.”
“So?”
“So normal people sleep.”
“Normal people don’t have bills.”
Hayden snorted.
“Fair.”
They stood quietly for a moment.
The restaurant was peaceful at this hour. Sunlight slipped through the tall front windows, falling across polished tables and empty chairs. The kitchen staff were beginning to move around behind the swinging doors. Plates clinked. Someone called for onions. Another voice complained about the delivery arriving late.
It was ordinary.
Comfortable.
Eliana liked ordinary.
She had learned a long time ago not to take it for granted.
“Table six.”
She looked up.
Mr. Eliot stood near the entrance.
He wasn’t dressed like a customer. He wore a dark suit, though his jacket was draped over one arm, and his expression carried the quiet authority of a man accustomed to being listened to.
Eliana smiled.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning.”
His eyes moved around the restaurant.
Then back to her.
“You’ve been working already.”
“I’ve been here for a while.”
“I can see that.”
Hayden immediately disappeared into the kitchen.
Coward.
Eliana tried not to laugh.
Mr. Eliot noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That usually means something.”
“Hayden.”
“Ah.”
His mouth twitched.
“That explains it.”
Mr. Eliot had owned the restaurant for years, but unlike many wealthy owners, he didn’t treat the people who worked for him as furniture.
He knew their names.
He knew who had children.
Who was studying.
Who was saving for a house.
Who had a sick parent.
And somehow, he always seemed to know when someone was struggling before they said anything.
He had noticed Eliana too.
Not because she demanded attention.
She rarely did.
She simply worked.
When another waitress called in sick, Eliana covered her shift.
When the kitchen was short-handed, she carried plates.
When an elderly customer needed help getting to the door, she walked him outside.
She never made a performance out of being helpful.
She just did what needed to be done.
Mr. Eliot appreciated that.
“You have classes today?”
Eliana nodded.
“Later.”
“What time?”
“Four.”
“And your shift ends at three?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he walked toward table six and straightened a chair that was already straight.
“I may need to speak with you later.”
Eliana frowned.
“Did I do something?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
“You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”
That only made her more curious.
Before she could ask again, the front door opened.
The first customers arrived.
The conversation ended.
By eight-thirty, the quiet restaurant had disappeared.
Coffee orders came one after another.
Eggs.
Toast.
Pancakes.
Sandwiches.
Someone wanted extra butter.
Someone else complained that their coffee wasn’t hot enough.
A businessman in a gray suit spent ten minutes on the phone while Eliana stood beside him waiting for his order.
“Sir?”
He raised one finger.
She waited.
Another minute passed.
Then another.
He finally looked at her.
“What do you recommend?”
She glanced at the menu.
“The breakfast special.”
“What’s in it?”
“Eggs, toast, bacon, and coffee.”
He stared at her.
“That’s your recommendation?”
“You asked.”
He laughed.
“Fair enough.”
She smiled.
“Would you like that?”
“Yes.”
She wrote it down.
When she turned, Hayden was watching her from across the room.
“What?” Eliana mouthed.
Hayden shook her head.
Nothing.
Eliana rolled her eyes.
She knew that look.
Hayden was saving the conversation for later.
She was right.
By noon, Eliana’s feet hurt.
She leaned against the counter for three seconds before straightening again.
Hayden walked over.
“Sit.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re busy.”
“Eliana, you’re standing on one leg.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Eliana looked down.
She was.
She laughed.
“Okay. Maybe a little.”
Hayden pulled out a chair.
“Sit before you fall and give me extra work.”
Eliana reluctantly sat.
For thirty seconds.
Then a customer called.
She stood again.
Hayden sighed.
“You’re impossible.”
“I know.”
“That’s not a compliment.”
“I know that too.”
They laughed.
It was easy with Hayden.
There were people Eliana could talk to for hours and still feel like she hadn’t said anything.
Hayden wasn’t one of them.
With Hayden, silence was enough.
Friendship didn’t always need explanations.
Around two, the rush finally eased.
Eliana carried a tray toward the kitchen when she noticed Mr. Eliot sitting alone near the window.
He had changed into a lighter shirt.
A cup of untouched coffee sat before him.
She hesitated.
Then walked over.
“Sir?”
He looked up.
“Yes?”
“Is everything okay?”
He studied her face.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’ve been sitting there for almost twenty minutes.”
“I own the place.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
For a moment, something almost like amusement crossed his face.
“You’ve become rather bold.”
Eliana smiled.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
He gestured toward the chair opposite him.
“Sit.”
She did.
Only for a moment.
“I have work.”
“The restaurant won’t collapse if you sit for five minutes.”
“I don’t know. Hayden might.”
From across the room, Hayden called, “I heard that!”
Mr. Eliot laughed.
Eliana smiled.
Then his expression changed.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Almost two years.”
“And you’ve never asked me for a favor.”
She frowned.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
“Most people ask.”
“I’ve never been good at asking.”
“Why?”
Eliana looked down at her hands.
There were faint marks on her fingers from carrying trays and washing dishes.
“I don’t like owing people.”
Mr. Eliot was quiet.
“That’s an unusual answer.”
“Is it?”
“Most people see help as an opportunity.”
“I see it as something that should be deserved.”
His eyes remained on her.
“Interesting.”
Eliana shifted in her seat.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
There was something about the way he looked at her that made her uncomfortable.
Not in a bad way.
More like he was thinking about something she hadn’t been told.
She stood.
“I should get back to work.”
“Eliana.”
She paused.
“Yes?”
“I may ask you for a favor.”
Her fingers tightened around the tray.
“What kind of favor?”
“One that could change your life.”
She stared at him.
He said nothing more.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It wasn’t meant to.”
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
Mr. Eliot smiled.
“Go.”
She turned and walked away.
Hayden was waiting.
“What did he want?”
“Nothing.”
“That was definitely not a nothing conversation.”
“He said he might ask me for a favor.”
Hayden’s eyes widened.
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to say yes?”
Eliana looked toward Mr. Eliot.
He was already on his phone, his attention somewhere else.
“I don’t know.”
Hayden lowered her voice.
“Eliana.”
“What?”
“Rich people don’t ask for favors.”
Eliana raised an eyebrow.
“What do they ask for?”
“Things.”
She laughed.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Hayden folded her arms.
“Just be careful.”
Eliana nodded.
“I will.”
She meant it.
But she didn’t know what she was agreeing to be careful about.
At three, she changed out of her uniform.
At three-fifteen, she said goodbye to Hayden.
At three-twenty, she walked through the restaurant’s back entrance with her bag over her shoulder.
She had barely taken three steps when her phone rang.
Mr. Eliot.
She stopped.
“Hello, sir?”
“Are you on your way home?”
“Yes.”
“Come back.”
Eliana frowned.
“I just left.”
“I know.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
“I’d like to speak with you.”
There was something different in his voice this time.
Not casual.
Not friendly.
Serious.
Eliana looked back at the restaurant.
“What about?”
“I’ll explain when you get here.”
The call ended.
She stared at her phone.
Hayden came out the back door.
“What happened?”
Eliana slipped the phone into her bag.
“Mr. Eliot wants to see me.”
Hayden’s face changed.
“Now?”
Eliana nodded.
“Now.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
“Everything sounds suspicious to you.”
“Because I’m usually right.”
Eliana smiled faintly.
Then she looked toward the restaurant again.
For the first time since she’d started working there, she felt as though something was about to shift.
She just didn’t know how much.
She walked back inside.
Upstairs, behind a closed office door, Mr. Eliot sat with a folder in front of him.
And on the first page was a name Eliana knew very well.
Scott Eliot.
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