I pocketed a pencil in my apron and sent up a prayer for strength. If I had to hear “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” one more time today…
Would anyone really notice if I unplugged Mitch’s precious jukebox?
At the Rusty Spoon, that was a certainty. Change wasn’t appreciated much by the owner or by the townspeople of Crescent Cove. We were a small lake town, and Christmas and Halloween were two of our biggest holidays. Halloween was a new addition, thanks to our resident Halloween freak, Macy Gideon. Recently, she’d even opened up a horror-themed restaurant that brought a bunch of tourists to the area.
The local stores excelled at pivoting. Being all independent shops meant drawing in customers was always king. In that way, the town definitely could swing with the changes. But putting up some cute Halloween decorations was one thing.
Changing menus and traditions, not so much.
We’d only recently recovered from Halloween. Like a switch had been flipped, we swapped out bats for bows and bells. Oh, and a few turkeys for good measure for Thanksgiving. However, we were firmly in Christmas town right now, and that meant holiday songs were piped into every store and restaurant.
Don’t forget to get your gifts and hey, need a gift certificate?
I heard myself saying it in my sleep.
At least Mitch had allowed me to update a few of the songs. Now Miley Cyrus was in the rotation along with the OG holiday singer, Brenda Lee. I’d had to work three overtime hours to get him to buy the updates for a few Christmas songs from this decade.
Mitch Cooper was forever looking for an angle before he’d give up an inch. The Rusty Spoon—his baby—was a staple in the Cove. From the red vinyl booths that had been patched approximately ninety-eight times to the black and white checkered tile floor, it was the textbook definition of a diner in the Merriam-Webster dictionary. The big one that Mrs. McKenzie, the town librarian, could use as a weapon.
Yeah, so you can imagine just how much updating happened within these walls. But that was also part of its charm as far as I was concerned. I knew exactly what I’d find when I walked through the door. First, a bell would tinkle over my head, and the door squeaked no matter how much WD-40 Mitch used to try to fix it. Now he considered it a form of security.
Bacon grease was practically baked into my hair due to years of waitressing. When I’d started here, I’d figured the job would give me a little extra money while I looked for another, more permanent one.
Five years later, the idea of working in an office gave me hives.
Working at the diner gave me a pipeline into the Cove. I was privy to all the town goings-on, and the hours had given me the freedom to play with a few side hustles over the years. Between working here and bartending at my sister’s bar, I didn’t want for cash. I preferred a simple life.
“Mija!”
I shut my eyes. Of course my family made that nearly impossible, but there was always hope in my heart.
I set my tray down on the counter before turning around with a bright smile. “Mami.”
Bonnie Ramos came at me like a freight train, enveloping me in her Lily of the Valley scent and freakishly strong arms. My mom was on a health kick which included food, yoga, and essential oils. I was pretty sure she was driving my father to his backyard garden oasis more each day. I only hoped he survived the winter since upstate New York meant snow as high as the rooftops some seasons.
She pushed me away and squeezed my upper arms. “You’re melting away to nothing, nena.”
“I am not, Ma.”
She tsked then turned her attention toward my very pregnant sister. “Ahh, corazoncita, come sit down.” My mother shooed me away and hauled my sister, Erica, up the aisle and toward a booth.
“Ma, I’m fine.” Erica huffed out an exasperated breath as she waddled in our direction.
She’d given up the pretense of closing her jacket. Instead, she used colorful scarves to keep warm. I knew because I’d crocheted three of them for her in the last two weeks. Along with a bunch of baby things she’d find out about soon enough.
“Will you fit?” I winced. “Sorry.”
“Hateful,” Erica muttered and slid into the booth, but no, her belly definitely didn’t fit. Rather than crying about it, she just inched back and put her feet up on