One Foot in the Grave - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,14
told me I’d been gone an hour, so I put the film back in the box and headed back to the tavern, bidding Carnita goodbye and telling her I’d use the microfilm reader the next time I came in.
Ruth was waiting tables when I got back. Some of the men had left, but the ones who’d stayed were watching ESPN.
A young woman with long dark hair came in close to four. She glanced around the room before walking up to the bar to see Max.
“Oh. My Word,” Ruth said, sidling up to me. “That’s Molly McMurphy.”
“Should I know who she is?”
“I haven’t seen her for years,” she said with a frown as the woman sat on a stool and leaned forward. “But she is as flighty as they come, and it looks like Max is interviewing her for a job.”
A burst of excitement shot through me. If we found another full-time waitress, more of my time would be freed up. “You know we need the help.”
“But Molly McMurphy?” she asked in disgust.
“It could be Santa Claus for all I care,” I said. “As long as I can stop working doubles and get a day off. Hank has a doctor’s appointment in another week.”
She gave me a snide look. “You’ll be changin’ your tune when you think you’re gettin’ a day off and she doesn’t show up to work.” Leaning closer, she lifted her eyebrows. “Just like Lula.”
That sobered me. As much as I liked Lula as a semi-friend, she wasn’t the most reliable employee. Then, before I could stop and think about what I was asking, I said, “How do you know her?”
Ruth rolled her eyes and turned away.
Fair enough. She knew most people in this town.
Max spent about five minutes talking to her, then waved me over. He was grinning ear to ear when I reached him.
“Carly, this here is Molly McMurphy. She’s our new waitress, and thankfully for us, she’s startin’ tonight. Will you show her around, then get her a couple of work shirts?”
“Shouldn’t Ruth be doin’ that?” I asked, shooting a nervous glance over my shoulder.
“Nah. I want you to do it,” he said, but I heard the strain in his voice.
Ruth was watching us with suspicion, and I felt all the pressure of being caught between a rock and a hard place. Well, crap. Ultimately, while Ruth was the de facto manager, Max was the owner. If he said she was our new waitress, then I wasn’t about to tell him he was wrong, especially since we needed the help. Besides, I knew Ruth could be hard on people. She hadn’t cottoned much to Lula before I’d shown up, and it turned out that Lula had really needed a friend. And yeah, she was a little flighty…okay, a lot, but still…
“Sure,” I said, plastering on a smile and stuffing down my concerns as I turned to the woman next to me. She looked like she was around my age—late twenties, early thirties—and she had a friendly enough face, but her blue eyes looked guarded, not that I could blame her if she and Ruth really did have issues. “I’m Carly. Welcome to Max’s Tavern. We’re happy to have the help.”
Some of the iciness left her eyes. “I’m Molly. Nice to meet you. And I’m thankful to be here. I could really use the job.”
That made me feel better. Times were tough in Drum, and the fact that she needed a job meant she would likely put in the effort to keep it. “If you want to come to the back, I’ll show you where the lockers are and introduce you to Tiny and Sweetie Pie.”
She laughed. “Sweetie Pie?”
Grinning, I said, “Tiny, our short-order cook, gives all the cooks nicknames.” I nearly told her not to worry about getting to know Sweetie Pie that well since she probably wouldn’t be around much longer, but I didn’t want to scare her.
Ruth was shooting daggers in my direction as we walked to the back. I showed Molly the back room and where we kept the extra T-shirts. Then I told her she could pick any of the open mini lockers to store her things. After she went to the restroom to change, I took her to the entrance to the kitchen, making sure to tell her that Tiny didn’t like anyone in his kitchen during working hours and we weren’t supposed to cross the imaginary line at the threshold.
“Tiny,” I called out. “This is Molly. Max just hired