Chapter 2

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It was eleven fifty in the morning.  About ninety-nine degrees outside and the air conditioner just barely hanging on by a thread.  Dad had finally broken down and called a repairman, but he wouldn’t be able to make it in until Monday.  Come on, baby, you can hold out just three more days, I silently pleaded with the dilapidated machine.

I was on pins and needles.  Ten minutes until David came.  Dad was in his office in the back and I was trying not to be too distracted while waiting tables.  Mom had already yelled at me twice, once for spilling somebody’s iced tea and again for making a group of little old ladies wait fifteen minutes before I thought to bring them their menus. I knew I was being irrational. He was just a man after all, just like any other man who had stopped by the place on his way through town.  But he wasn’t just like any other man.  There was something about him—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.  It even sounded crazy to me as I tried to explain it in my own mind, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and wondering what he wanted to talk to my father about. 

Eleven fifty-five. Pete in the kitchen had to yell in my ear three times before I turned to get the two plates of fried chicken and take them to the party at table number two.  Luckily, it happened to be Mr. and Mrs. Douglas, an old couple who lived just down the road from my parents.  I had played in their swimming pool as a child and they were never anything but sweet and polite.  They would never complain about poor service.  But still.  It was my job, and seeing as how I’d already failed at one career, I didn’t think I could survive failing this one too.

Eleven fifty-seven.  I heard the door open and turned to see David walk in.  The way the sunlight sparkled in his eyes, I found him even more attractive than he had been the previous night.  He smiled at me and I waved to him before going to the back to tell Dad his noon appointment had arrived.

“Tell him I’ll be about five more minutes,” Dad said without looking up from his laptop.

“Sure thing,” I chirped before waltzing back into the dining room. I was feeling downright giddy, and I suddenly worried that someone might start to guess why.  I started to worry that David might guess why.

“Hello again,” I said, laying two menus on the table.  “My dad says he’ll be right out.”

David looked up.  “Your dad?  This is your parents’ place?”  He flashed that sheepish smile at me again and I almost melted right through the floor.

Pull yourself together, I thought, swallowing hard and trying to think what to say that wouldn’t sound stupid.  “Yeah, Rick and Rhonda are my parents.  I’m Sarah.”

“Nice to meet you Sarah Hathaway.”  He held out his hand to me and I offered him mine.  “David Jenson.”  We shook hands briefly and then he looked down at his menu.

“Yeah, I know.  We met last night, remember?”

He laughed, looked back up at me, and said, “Of course.  But you didn’t tell me your name last night.”

 I shook my head.  “I must have forgotten.  I get a little loopy when I work the evening shift.”

“I’m a morning person myself, so I understand.  So what do you…” he began and then quickly broke off.  “Sorry, excuse me,” he said, abruptly rising to his feet.  “Mr. Hathaway, thank you for meeting with me.” 

I looked over my shoulder to see my father standing about two feet behind me.

“You can call me Rick if you want.  You must be David.”

“Yes, David Jenson.  I’m very glad to meet you.”

They shook hands and took their seats.  I continued standing, waiting to see what urgent business David had with my father, but they said nothing until finally Dad looked up at me and whispered, “Perhaps you would like to take our drink orders.”

Blushing and trying hard not to stutter, I said, “Oh…right…uh…can I get the two of you something to drink?”

David ordered water again, and Dad ordered iced tea.  I went back toward the kitchen, walking slowly and trying to hear what they were saying, but they spoke too quietly.

For the next hour they sat and talked, and I tried to hover and listen while busying myself with wiping down tables and refilling costumers’ drinks.  I was dying to know what they were talking about, but I could only catch a few generic words that might have referred to just about anything.  Dad was just getting up when I came to bring David his bill.

“Thanks so much, Mr. Hathaway.”

“Rick.”

“Thanks, Rick.  We’ll talk again soon I hope.”

“Sure,” my dad said, smiling.  “Anything you want to know, feel free to come and ask.  Most of the time you can either find me or Sarah or Rhonda right here in the restaurant, so stop by anytime.  And that’s not just a ploy to get your business.”

They shook hands again and Dad returned to his office.  David smiled and handed me his debit card.  “Thanks for giving your dad the message, Sarah.  I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.  I’ll be right back with this.”  I took his card and headed to the cash register.

After he left I charged into my dad’s office, desperate for some information.

“Hi, sweetie.  Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Gina can cover for a few minutes.  Well?”

“Well?”

I rolled my eyes and he smiled mischievously.  He had always loved tormenting me like this.

“Come on Dad.  You know what I want to know!”

Still smirking, “Sarah, I’m not a mind reader.  I can’t imagine what you want to know.”

“What did he want?”

“What did who want?”

“David.”

“David?  Hmm…David…I don’t think I know any…” This time I playfully slapped him on the arm and he finally answered seriously.  “Okay, okay.  Honestly, I’m still not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?  You just talked for an hour.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t really tell me anything about why he was here or why he needed to see me specifically.  He just asked a bunch of questions about the area.”

“The area?”

“Yeah, Laurel Hill.”

“So he just wanted information about the town?”

“Well, the town and the area as a whole.  He asked a few questions about the river, and who owns the land out that way.”

My mind was working overtime and latched on to the most logical answer that presented itself.  “Do you think he’s like a developer or something?  Maybe he wants to build a subdivision…or a mall.”

“A mall way out here?  Not likely.”

“Okay, a subdivision then.  Or maybe he works for some company that wants to have a factory here.”

Dad shrugged.  “It’s possible, but I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing, why would he want to talk to me?  I’m just a small business owner, I’m not associated with the local government in any way.  And that’s who you’d need to talk to if you wanted to do something like that.”

“Okay, well, maybe he’s interested in the restaurant.  Maybe he wants to buy it, turn it into a chain.”

“I think he would have said that up front.  Business men usually don’t beat about the bush.  If he wanted to do something like that I think he would have, first of all, told me his intentions, and second of all, made me an offer.  He just asked questions.  No, I think he has some personal interest in this place.”

“A personal interest in Laurel Hill?” I asked, not even trying to hide my skepticism.

Dad gave me a look that said I was starting to push my limits with him.  “Just because you couldn’t wait to get out of here doesn’t mean the world hates this place.  It’s really a pleasant place to live, if small town life is what you want.  Now, like I said, I think you have a job to do, don’t you?”

I backed down.  My leaving had always been a source of contention between us.  Though it was true that he had paid for my college, I think he fully expected me to come home and coach drama at the high school or something like that.  My three years on the west coast were something he could never understand.  The fact that most of those three years were spent waitressing, a job I could have had at home without any college education at all, just made matters worse.  It was a subject we had agreed not to talk about.

I returned to my job feeling dejected and more curious than ever.  What in the world did David want with my dad?  The only reason someone could possibly have personal business in a town like ours would have to be family-related, but Dad knew just about everyone in town, and he had never heard of a David Jenson.  So he couldn’t have family here.

For the rest of the day I went through the motions of my job, while my mind wandered in all directions, each direction taking me back to David and the questions that were burning me up inside.  There was one thing I knew for sure—I would find out what was going on.
 
 
 
 

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