A Family After All. Kathy Altman

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СКАЧАТЬ you having this same talk with everyone?” Marcus asked quietly. There were three more waitresses on the books, plus a busboy on weekends. “Or just us?”

      Cal gave him a look Marcus couldn’t interpret. “Everyone needs to hear this. The problem is happening at the cash register, but I won’t tolerate theft of any kind. I don’t care if it’s a can of tomato sauce. You have a money problem, you come to me. We’re family. We’re supposed to be here for each other.” He cleared his throat, but not before everyone heard the break in his voice. “I hate that we’re even having this conversation.”

      Noah, a spongy-looking redhead with a sparse goatee, crossed his arms and squinted. “You said this started a month ago?” When Cal offered up a curt nod, Noah’s gaze slid to Marcus. “Isn’t that about the same time he started working the register?”

      Marcus didn’t flinch. He’d been waiting for this. He met Cal’s gaze squarely, and after a moment his heart bobbed back up to the surface. How long would Cal be able to hang on to the respect Marcus was seeing in his eyes?

      “Yes,” Cal said simply. “But I trust Marcus as much as I trust each of you. Which is what makes this so hard.” He went on to tell them he was available at any hour of the day, for anyone who wanted to talk. Then he went into his office and shut the door.

      “Why don’t you stay away from the register?” Eyeing Marcus, Noah folded the envelope containing his paycheck and slid it into his back pocket. “That way, if money goes missing again, we’ll know you’re not the thief.”

      “And if it doesn’t go missing, everyone will think he is.” Patricia pursed her lips. “Nice try, Noah.”

      He let loose a smirk. “Maybe no one’s stealing at all. Maybe someone’s getting confused and making too much change. Maybe Cal shouldn’t let anyone over fifty near the register.”

      Patricia’s lined face went gray.

      Rachel fisted her bony hands. “Shut up. Just shut up. How old do you think Cal is, you moron? Anyway, you’re the one who can’t inventory five boxes of steaks without using a calculator.”

      “All right, that’s enough,” Marcus growled. When everyone went quiet, he struggled to hide his surprise. He pushed away from the counter he’d been leaning against and angled his chin toward the office. “Cal’s right. We’re family. Instead of turning on each other, we should be helping each other out. I don’t believe any of us is stealing, so let’s work together and figure out what is going on.”

      “Who put you in charge?” Noah demanded. “You turn twenty-one and suddenly you think you’re calling the shots?”

      “Excuse me?” A hesitant voice reached them from the front of the diner. “Could I get a refill on my tea?”

      “Be right there, baby doll,” Patricia called. She scowled at Noah and bustled out of the kitchen.

      Rachel’s thin shoulders bounced. “So what if he’s only twenty-one? You’re only twenty-three.”

      “And you’re, like, twelve, so get out of my face.”

      “There a problem here?” They all turned to see Cal standing in the doorway to his office. No one answered. With abrupt motions, Cal finished tying the strings of his black apron. “Marcus, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

      “Yes, sir.” Marcus pulled his own apron over his head. He usually cooked in the evenings, but Cal had given him the rest of the night off. He’d worked a double over the weekend when Noah had called in sick, and Cal had insisted.

      Which meant Cal would be cooking for what was left of the shift.

      The diner’s owner turned to his other cook. “You have your check. How about you let Rachel get back to work?”

      With a nod, Noah scurried toward the back door. Rachel made a clumsy gesture toward the front, then spun and hurried to join Patricia.

      Cal studied Marcus. “Usually when you have a date with Liz, you’re out of here so fast all anyone can see is a blur. Everything okay?” When Marcus hesitated, Cal held up a hand. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked. But in case your lady needs softening up, I put aside a little something for you in the walk-in.”

      Marcus shook his boss’s hand. “I appreciate that.” Though a few cinnamon rolls wouldn’t even start to make up for the hurt he was about to inflict.

      * * *

      TEN MINUTES LATER, Marcus parked in front of Snoozy’s Bar, where Liz waited tables. He eased the wheezing pickup in between two SUVs and let the engine idle. His palms were slick on the steering wheel, and his throat felt as though he’d spent an entire week breathing in flour.

      She’d called him late last night. She’d said she needed to know more about him and asked that their date tonight include an exchange of secrets. He’d balked at first, but she’d been insistent.

      Her voice had been soft, sleepy, coaxing. He’d pictured her curled up on her couch in flannel pajamas, sipping a cup of that chai tea she liked. How could he say no?

      After their conversation, he’d barely slept. He’d struggled with what to say to her, with how much to reveal. By sunrise he’d known what he had to do. He’d keep his end of the bargain, and then he’d say goodbye.

      The passenger door opened and he jumped.

      Liz peered in, her face wary. “You look like you’re about to make a quick getaway. Do you want me in or out?”

      “In,” he said, though that was the trouble. She’d already worked her way into his heart, and lately she’d been running a strong campaign to work her way into his bed. He could almost picture them building a life together.

      Not going to happen, dude. She had no idea what she’d be getting into.

      Sweat seemed to shoot out of his palms and he scrubbed his hands on his jeans. He glanced at Liz as she settled in her seat and did a double take as he noticed the heels on her sandals. They had to be as high as his hand was wide.

      “You didn’t tell me what to wear,” she said, in half accusation, half challenge.

      “Would it have mattered?”

      She rounded on him and he tensed, but she didn’t fire back. Instead she wore a delighted smile. “You have been paying attention.” She made a satisfied sound, flopped back against the seat and started to hum as he backed out of the parking lot.

      A funny, unfamiliar feeling settled between his ribs. She was right. He had been paying attention, since the day they’d met here at the bar after Joe Gallahan had cornered him in his motel. Marcus had been a homeless stalker with more attitude than sense, but Joe had ended up treating him to lunch. One look at the crinkly-haired blonde with big blue eyes taking their order and Marcus had wanted to stay in Castle Creek forever.

      “How are things with Joe?” she asked, as if she’d read his mind.

      “Better.” Joe had lost it there for a while, letting guilt drive him to the whiskey bottle, but he’d managed to turn things around. It helped that he’d fixed things with Allison.

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