'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Olivia Miles

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      “This one keeps me in business,” Lucy said.

      “I find that hard to believe,” Max said, an edge creeping into his once-pleasant tone. He looked around the crowded room. “This place seems to be doing pretty well on its own.”

      “Eh. At times. But you’d be amazed how many regulars come in, spend a buck-fifty on a cup of coffee and sip refills for two hours. Like Mr. Hawkins over there.” She gave a pointed stare to the end of the counter where an older man sat sipping at his mug, the newspaper splayed in front of him. The poor man had been a fixture at the diner ever since his wife had died more than ten years ago. Holly couldn’t remember a day she hadn’t come in to collect her pies and had not seen him sitting in that very seat. He clearly couldn’t bear the thought of being alone.

      Makes two of us.

      Max raised his eyebrows as he considered Lucy’s logic. “Never thought about that. And on that note, I’ll take a slice of pie.”

      A warm glow flowed through Holly at his kind effort. Why couldn’t she have met a guy like Max in Maple Woods?

      But then, that was the drawback to living in a small town. She couldn’t find the right one in Boston. And now she couldn’t find the right one here, either. Max seemed like everything she was looking for and more. But of course, he came with a hitch. He was just passing through her life. He wasn’t a permanent part of it.

      “What’s your poison, stranger?” Lucy asked. She pointed to the blackboard on the wall. “We’ve got pumpkin, apple and pear.”

      “If apple-cranberry is Holly’s favorite flavor, then I think I’ll take her up on the recommendation.”

      Holly bit her lip to hide her smile and locked eyes with Lucy, who had approval stamped all over her face.

      “Good answer,” Lucy observed. She pulled a fresh pie off a baking rack and cut into it.

      “Looks like we’ll need a fresh one for the evening crowd,” Emily Porter said, coming around the counter. Holly smiled at her friend, who was another familiar face at Lucy’s Place.

      “I’ll get started on that after things quiet down.” Emily paused, noticing Max for the first time, and then slid her eyes to Holly, barely suppressing her interest, before she disappeared into the kitchen.

      “I worked in a restaurant in college,” Max volunteered.

      Holly perked up with interest. “So did I! I waited tables.”

      “You never told me about this,” Lucy said, a sly smile creeping at her lips. “How long were you a waitress for?”

      “Five hours,” Holly admitted. It was such a short but horrifying memory that she often forgot she had ever endured it.

      “Five hours?” Max guffawed, his bright blue eyes gleaming with amusement. He stared at her, enraptured, and Holly felt the room tilt.

      He was just...perfect.

      Holly shook her head and closed her eyes, just thinking of her stint as a waitress. “It was awful. I was in college and I needed a part-time job, so I applied to work at this little café. I showed up to work on the first morning and they spent ten minutes showing me how to work the espresso machine—nothing I tried helped me to succeed in foaming that milk.”

      Lucy nodded. “It’s tricky.”

      “So they—wait, they fired you for not being able to foam milk?” Max’s lips twitched in amusement.

      “No, it went beyond the milk,” Holly said. “They were short-staffed that day and my boss wanted to go golfing. He spent another ten minutes teaching me how to use the cash register—”

      “Let me guess?” Max’s eyes danced.

      Holly gave him a playful swat, wondering for a split second if she had gone too far, but he swatted her right back. Her heart did a little jig. “So I couldn’t foam the milk and I could barely use the cash register. I was the only person working aside from the cook and I had to seat people, take their orders, foam the milk, bring the food, take care of the bill, and bus the tables. It was awful. Well, I was awful. So awful, that one customer left me two nickels for a tip.”

      Max’s hand was covering his ear-to-ear grin and his eyes were now wide as saucers. A heavy silence was interrupted by a sputtering of laughter and then Max tossed his head back, roaring. Lucy simply shook her head in dismay.

      “Two nickels?” Max repeated, when his laughter had died down.

      Holly nodded solemnly at the memory. She had never been so mortified. Never felt so ashamed. But looking back, she had to agree it was rather funny.

      “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But—two nickels?” Max erupted into another wave of laughter and finally composed himself, wiping at his eyes. “And here I was, just beginning to think you were perfect. Now I know you have a fatal flaw. You are a terrible waitress.”

      Holly’s cheeks flushed deep and hot but her pulse kicked up a notch. He thought she was perfect. And here she thought it was the other way around.

      “I bet you were a good waiter,” Lucy said to Max.

      Max shrugged and gave a humble grin. “I was better than Holly.”

      “Hey!” But she wasn’t mad. How could she be? He was teasing her, and there was only one reason why boys teased.

      “I’m just being honest.” His eyes gleamed in merriment. “I mean, you were able to buy some penny candy with your tips and I was able to, well...pay rent.”

      Holly laughed but silently considered his words. Max seemed like the type of guy who came from money. Not one who had to earn it. But then, there was a lot about Max she didn’t know.

      Yet.

      “Restaurant work is hard work. There’s a lot most folks don’t think about until they’re in the business,” Lucy commented. She handed Max his slice of pie and placed a fork on a fresh napkin. “It’s grueling at times. For everyone. Not that I’m complaining. I love this place—don’t get me wrong—but it’s hard work. And having a little extra cash, especially around the holidays, helps.”

      Max’s mouth thinned. “I’m Max, by the way.”

      “Lucy. Lucy Miller.”

      Holly felt Max stiffen in his chair. She scrutinized him sidelong, questioning the reaction.

      “I think I might have just met your son—Bobby, is it? Over at the sporting goods shop?”

      Lucy chuckled. “So, you’ve had the pleasure, then? Yes, he’s my son.”

      “Excuse me for asking, but why doesn’t he work at the diner instead of the store across the street?”

      “He’s too cool for it.” Lucy pursed her lips. “He used to help out here, but then his buddy got him that job at the sports place. It’s a chance for them to hang out and earn some money at the СКАЧАТЬ