She hurried to the pass-through window, grabbed her order and delivered it to the waiting customers. Because the café was shorthanded today, she’d been filling in wherever needed, covering the counter more than the dining area. In between, she watched the door for Tia Maria’s return and counted the minutes.
From the corner of her eye, Frankie caught sight of her two younger sisters, Mel and Ronnie. At four months pregnant, Mel had recently started showing and switched from wearing her standard jeans and tucked-in work shirt to stretchy pants and loose tops. She looked both different and adorable.
Waving hello, the pair slipped into a recently vacated booth.
Frankie informed her nearest coworker she was taking a break. She then prepared Mel’s favorite herbal tea and a hot chocolate for Ronnie. With luck, they’d be celebrating Frankie’s promotion.
“You came.” She placed the mugs in front of her sisters. Since Tia Maria frowned on employees sitting at tables with customers, Frankie stood. It was actually a practice she supported.
“Dad and Dolores send their apologies,” Mel said.
“No problem.”
Frankie hadn’t expected either her father or stepmom to show. Cattle buyers were visiting The Small Change Ranch this morning, where her father worked as foreman, and her stepmom lay in bed, recovering from a minor surgical procedure.
Of course, Frankie would love to have all her family here to share in her moment of excitement, but she understood why it wasn’t possible.
“Is Sam home with the girls?” Ronnie asked.
“She’s picking them up after preschool and bringing them by for a dish of ice cream.”
“Did she tell you she’s competing at the Camp Verde Rodeo this weekend?”
Frankie sighed. “I swear, I hardly see her anymore.”
They’d recently connected with their unknown teenaged sister—when she’d crashed their father’s birthday party and demanded a share of his lottery winnings. While accepting of Sam, Mel and Ronnie still had their ups and downs with her, struggling to come to terms with her sudden appearance, her decision to say in Mustang Valley, and the fact their father had had a child with another woman and never told anyone.
Frankie, however, had taken instantly to the eighteen-year-old, who stayed with her when she wasn’t on the road and fit in as if they’d been together their entire lives.
“When’s the announcement?” Ronnie blew on and then sipped her hot chocolate.
“Any minute. Whenever Tia Maria gets back.” Frankie glanced around, noting the new busboy hadn’t cleared two of the tables. “She’d better hurry. We’re going to get busy soon.”
Though customers continued to come and go, the crowd had thinned during the typical lull between breakfast and lunch. Frankie didn’t worry. The well-trained staff, with the exception of the new busboy, would handle the few new customers straggling in.
“Are you nervous?”
Frankie beamed down at Mel. “I’m excited. I can’t wait. I have so many ideas for this place.”
Had she really been employed at the café fourteen years? She could remember ditching school one afternoon during her junior year to interview with Tia Maria, who, with her steel-colored hair, sharp features and vivid red lipstick, had scared the pants off Frankie. Truth be told, she still did once in a while.
“Will you be able to keep up with the catering after the promotion?”
Mel’s question was one Frankie had pondered endlessly since Tia Maria first mentioned retiring.
“If work gets too demanding, I’ll just cut back on the catering. Limit myself to friends and family. And the really high-paying jobs, of course.”
“How’s your crowd-funding campaign coming along?” Ronnie asked.
“I’ve only raised a few hundred dollars so far.” Hardly enough to launch a business, even a side one.
“No one makes better barbecue brisket and ribs than you,” Mel added. “Even that place the New Times voted number one doesn’t compare.”
Frankie unabashedly agreed. “But side jobs don’t provide company benefits. I need the employer-paid health insurance and vacation days.”
They chatted a couple more minutes, until Frankie noticed the new busboy had yet to clear the two tables. This wasn’t the time for her to fall behind in her duties, not with a promotion nearly clinched.
“I’d better get going.”
“We’re rooting for you, sis.”
She hurried off, still not understanding why Tia Maria hadn’t simply given her the promotion. What was with all this big announcement stuff?
Frankie located the busboy in the storeroom, hanging out with the assistant cook, and hurriedly dispatched him to the dining area. She then admonished the assistant cook, a notorious flirt who was much too old for the kid, before returning to the counter, where customers were waiting for either refills, their check, to place their order or be served.
At least three new people had arrived. She summed them up in a flash. A middle-aged couple—tourists judging by their cargo shorts and T-shirts—and a young cowboy, probably in his early thirties, though it was hard to tell from this angle.
Frankie delivered an order of pancakes, and then snatched the coffeepot from the warming plate, ready to offer the cowboy and middle-aged couple a steaming mug. At that moment, the cowboy turned from talking to Everett and looked directly at her.
He wore an enormous grin, and his green-gray eyes danced with amusement.
Frankie froze as if hit with a stun gun. Only her heart moved, and it beat hard enough to crack a rib.
No, no, no! This could not be happening.
She closed her eyes. When she opened them, Spencer Bohanan still sat there, acting as if he hadn’t been gone for over four years and without so much as a phone call. A text. An e-mail. A greeting passed on from a mutual friend.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, storming over to him.
“Now, now, honey.”
Honey! Frankie came unglued. Who did he think he was?
“I’m busy, Spence.”
“Cook still making those special hash browns with the green peppers and onions?”
“I don’t have time for this.”
Her legs started to shake, knocking together at the knees. Worse, Tia Maria had just entered the front door, accompanied by a well-dressed man Frankie hadn’t seen before. She needed to get Spence out of there.
“I’ll have the two-egg special, over easy with wheat toast and a side of the special hash browns.” Turning his coffee mug right side up, he said, “Seeing as you have the pot, I’ll take a shot.”
She wanted to strangle him for too many reasons to count. Not the least of which was the last time he’d left, he’d given her all of fifteen hours’ warning. She’d told him to stay away for good. To never come back. Find someone new who could tolerate his wandering ways.
And, he had. The first two, anyway. Maybe the third. She hadn’t inquired.
Everett didn’t bother hiding his stare. Frankie sought out her sisters, who looked on with slack-jawed wonder. Probably half the café customers were observing Frankie and Spence. Those who knew their history were relaying it to their neighbors in hushed whispers. If Frankie strained, she swore she could hear them.
“Sweethearts since high school.”