she’d been in a store that didn’t sell couture garments. She was actually enjoying herself.
Finally, she ended up with two pairs of slacks and four colorful pullover sweaters, two gowns, a sweatpants set and some serviceable underwear. It amused her that Butch went to look over the electronics when she went into the lingerie section of the store. He was a conundrum, she thought. But she liked him very much.
* * *
Her first day on the job was grueling. She wasn’t used to standing for long periods of time, and she was amazed at how hard it was. At the same time, she was fascinated with the fact of earning a living for herself. She’d never had to worry about money. In fact, she’d always been able to buy anything she liked. This was different. It was exciting. Everything about it was new, and her enthusiasm was visible.
The owner of the café, Mrs. Dodd, chuckled when Esther was taught how to take toast out of the toaster and butter one side, then put both pieces of bread together so that the heat melted the butter on the slices.
“Imagine, getting excited about toast!” she chuckled.
Esther just laughed. “It’s all new and exciting,” she said. “I’ve never had to work a day in my life.”
The owner’s eyebrows arched.
Esther flushed. “I lost my mother . . . recently,” she said gently, not going into details. “She took care of me. Now I’m learning to take care of myself.”
“And doing nicely,” the older woman said, smiling kindly. “The standing will get easier. But you need tennis shoes to work in, honey, not hard-soled ones,” she added gently, indicating the high heels Esther was wearing with her slacks. “Standing is hard enough in comfortable shoes.”
“I’ll get Butch to take me back to Walmart after work and I’ll buy a pair,” Esther assured her. “Thanks for the advice, too.”
“So few people ever take any. You’re a breath of spring,” came the reply. “Okay, ready to move on to taking orders?”
“I wish my memory was better.” Esther groaned.
“That’s why we have pads and pencils.” The other woman chuckled. “You can practice on me before the lunch rush. Ready . . . ?”
* * *
By the end of the first month, Esther was dashing back and forth between the tables and the kitchen with a light step in her new tennis shoes and making a small fortune in tips. She put her long hair in a ponytail at work. Her waitress uniform fit in all the right places, which was causing her some problems. She was pretty, and men noticed.
She’d never had to work at discouraging men, because her mother had been around to absorb any interest she was likely to get. But one of the deputy sheriffs, and a couple of cowboys, were growing more insistent about wanting to take her out, either to dinner or a movie. And Esther didn’t want to go. She had more reason than many women to distrust men, especially after Darrin. Besides, she wasn’t interested in other men. Just in Butch, who became more important to her by the day. She was careful to remind other men that she was engaged. She only wished she had a ring, to prove it. Butch hadn’t mentioned the ring at all.
* * *
She dumped her tips out on the kitchen table before they started supper. They shared cooking, which Butch was teaching her. She’d already produced several very edible meals under his tutelage. She and Butch sat down to roll her loose change into coin envelopes. This was one of their nightly rituals. It was something they could do together, and Esther loved the companionship. They had their respective jobs, and Butch was out of the house a lot. Sometimes, he had to go out of town overnight, but he left her with Two-Toes and she felt safe. Besides, there was that 28-gauge shotgun he’d loaded for her. It was locked in the gun safe, but she knew where the key was. If she could bring herself to shoot somebody. Hopefully, Two-Toes would be a deterrent if she was ever really threatened.
There had been no news of Darrin, although Esther had secretly looked online, on Butch’s laptop, and found an account of her mother’s death. It was brief, just mentioning that it was an accident, citing her monied background, and mentioning that there had been only a memorial service. Nothing about homicide. So Darrin was still out, obviously, and probably looking for Esther. It