He slammed the folder shut. What did he know? She was a convicted felon and his client, only that.
Then he looked up into the scarred, beefy face of Butch Conway who stood in front of his desk. Butch had returned to society after a ten-year stay in Huntsville for assault with time off for good behavior.
All thoughts of the attractive-but-felonious Francie Calhoun fled to the back of his brain as he began his work to mold Butch into a model citizen.
“So, how’s this hunk of a parole officer of yours?” Julie Sullivan, owner of the diner, put two cups of coffee and a slice of apple pie on the table and joined Francie in the booth where she was reading for her English lit class.
Francie looked up at Julie and shook her head, attempting to return from Shakespeare’s flower-scented bower in the Forest of Avon to the smell of bacon and syrup left over from breakfast in Julie’s tiny diner.
It was a nice, neat little place with a black-and-white checkerboard floor. The table tops were beige with chairs and booths upholstered in red. The windows looking out on the busy street were covered with beige curtains with red piping. Against the walls were six booths—empty now except for Francie and Julie—with eight square tables in the open space.
“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, I hate to call him a hunk when our relationship is purely professional.”
“You called him that before and didn’t seem to mind.” Julie poured two packets of creamer into her cup and stirred, keeping her eyes on Francie’s face as she pushed a strand of her graying black curls back in place, curls Francie had noticed barely ever moved on their own.
“Two weeks ago, he didn’t feel so…I don’t know. He got a little stuffy at the last appointment, sort of cold. Oh, not that he wasn’t helpful,” she hurried to add. “He seemed different this time, not as friendly.”
“That’s not unusual. You know how men are. I mean, Manny can be a real jerk sometimes, when he’s feeling real macho.”
“I don’t know. That might be it.” Francie shrugged and looked back at her book. “Sorry, Julie, but I have to read the rest of this play.”
“I won’t bother you for long. We’ve got a good two hours before the lunch crowd comes in. You might as well take a break.” She pushed the cup and the pie in front of Francie. “This is your boss talking. Do what I say. You’re getting too thin. Eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The coffee was strong and hot, and the pie tasted wonderful, warm and cinnamon-flavored. “Okay, Julie, suppose you tell me what’s going on with you and Manny while we’re taking this break together.”
“Nothing’s going on between us. You should know that. Since I broke our engagement last year, we’ve never looked back. He dates other women; I date men, lots of men.” She looked over her shoulder at the dark, handsome cook.
“He’s just like all men,” Julie continued.
“I think he’s more handsome than most, Julie.”
She bit her lip. “Yes, I guess he is. He’s got those dark brown eyes that say such romantic things to a woman, but he’s got a really macho attitude. Thinks he owns his woman and can’t get it through his head that I have a brain and can take care of myself. He hates it that I own this place.” She leaned toward Francie. “I think the fact that I was his boss and told him I would not hand the diner over to him when we got married was what finally broke us up.” She sat back in the booth. “Men!”
“You know, it’s probably hard for him to work for the woman he loves.”
“What?” Julie sat up straighter. “What’s the matter with you? You used to agree with me about Manny.”
“I’m trying that kindness thing.”
“Huh?”
“I’m trying to be a kinder person.”
“Just because you’re trying to change doesn’t mean you have to side with Manny. You’re still my friend and can be kind to me.”
“I’m trying not to judge other people.”
“If that doesn’t beat all.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I want you to be happy, Francie, but don’t get all goody-goody on me.”
“I’m sorry, Julie. Sometimes it’s hard to know exactly the right balance. I’m still searching.”
“I guess you’re doing the best you can.” Julie stood. “Okay, I’ll leave you to your play.” Julie picked up the coffee cups and took them to the kitchen.
When Francie was alone, she leaned against the back of the bench and closed her eyes, turning her thoughts toward God. “You know,” she whispered, “this whole transformation is turning out to be a lot more difficult than I ever imagined. I’d appreciate a little help here because I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Francie had just finished studying when the lunch crowd came in. Within minutes, she had tables and booths full and was running back and forth, taking orders and picking them up, placing them on tables, adding up checks and picking up tips. While she did all of this, she smiled and kept up running jokes with the regulars.
Shortly before one-thirty, the crowd thinned. As she filled the glasses of the few remaining customers and wiped down tables, she heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, Curly, how’re you doing?”
Francie turned around to see her cousin Mike Fuller, Tessie’s older son. “Hi there. How’s one of my favorite cousins doing?”
He had become such a handsome young man. She’d met him when he was seven and she was twelve, back when Uncle Lou went to prison and she’d moved in with Aunt Tessie. For six years, they’d been like sister and brother. He’d been a skinny little kid, a runt everyone in the neighborhood picked on. Now he was over six feet tall, broad from working out and almost as handsome as Mr. Fairchild.
Where had that foolish thought come from? Mike was much more handsome than Mr. Fairchild, in a different sort of way. Besides, she shouldn’t be thinking of her parole officer like that. She shouldn’t be thinking of him at all.
“Hey, Francie.” He hugged her.
“Sit down. What do you want? The usual?”
“Yeah. You know how much I love Manny’s hamburgers.”
“Hi, kid,” Julie said and gave Mike a hug. “Take a break, Francie, and grab a bite with Mike.” She picked up the order Francie had written and handed it to Manny who took it from Julie’s hand but didn’t look at her.
“Friendly guy,” Julie grumbled.
“Hey, Mike,” shouted Manny from the window. Then he turned toward Julie to say, “See, I’m a very friendly guy when people treat me right.”
Julie frowned. “If you weren’t such a good cook and never missed a day of work, I’d fire you.” She picked up a plate and carried it to a customer.
“What a terrific surprise,” Francie said to Mike. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have class?” She slid into the booth next to him.
“Hey, lay off. I don’t have classes this afternoon, and I’m not due at work for an hour. Why can’t I stop by to see my favorite cousin—”
“Only cousin.”
“Without getting the third degree?”
“The third degree is sort of a custom with our family.” She smiled at him. “How’s life going?”
“Great. My grades are good. You know I got accepted to med school.”
“I know. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”