S.E.C.R.E.T. (Secret 1)

“Fine,” Dell said, waving me away like a fly. “So long as I don’t have to say anything. Jesus didn’t raise me to lie.”

“I could kiss you.”

“You could not,” she said.

I ran to my locker, plucked the book from the top of a pile of dirty T-shirts and made a mental note to do laundry. I was breathless when I got to the table. The faces of both women turned towards me at the same time, expectant.

“So! I asked Dell. She’s the other waitress who works days, too, right over there …” At this point, Dell dutifully came out of the kitchen and waved a tired arm our way to legitimize my total lie. “It turns out she found this,” I said, triumphantly pulling the notebook out of my pouch. “Is this what you—?”

Before I could finish that sentence, Pauline plucked the book from my fingers and deposited it into her purse.

“That is it. And thank you so much,” she said to me, exhaling. Then she turned to the other woman. “You know what? I have to go now, Matilda. So sad, but turns out I don’t have time for lunch after all today, is that okay?”

“That’s fine. Call me later. But I’m famished,” Matilda said. She stood to hug her harried companion goodbye.

I could feel the relief and the vexation coursing through Pauline. She had gotten the booklet back, but she knew that it had released some of its secrets somewhere, to someone, and it seemed she couldn’t wait to leave. After their quick embrace, she made a dash for the door.

Matilda folded back down into her chair, as relaxed as a cat settling into a sun patch. I looked around the restaurant. It was about three o’clock, and the place was almost empty. My shift would be over soon.

“Be right back with your green tea,” I said. “Menu’s on the wall there.”

“Thank you, Cassie,” she said as I walked away.

I felt gut-punched. She knew my name. How did she know my name? I did sign my bills. And Pauline was a regular. That’s how. Surely.

The rest of my shift was uneventful. Matilda sipped her tea, looking out the window. She ordered the egg salad sandwich, pickle on the side, half of which she ate. We didn’t say much beyond the pleasantries of a waitress s

erving a customer. I gave her the bill and she left a nice tip.

That’s why I was shocked the next day to see Matilda come in after the lunch rush died down, this time alone. She waved at me and pointed to a table. I nodded, noticing that my hands shook a little as I made my way over to her. What I was so nervous about? Even if she knew I’d lied, what was so bad about what I had done? How could any normal person have resisted reading a notebook with such compelling content? Besides, it was Pauline who might feel wronged, her privacy a little violated, not this woman.

“Hello, Cassie,” she said, smiling a genuine smile.

This time I noticed her face. She had bright wide eyes, dark brown, with flawless skin. She wore little makeup, which had the added effect of making her look younger than what she probably was, which I now suspected was closer to sixty than fifty. She had a heart-shaped face, which drew to an acute point at her chin, and she was, frankly, extraordinarily beautiful, in the way women with unusual features can sometimes be. She wore all black—tight pants that outlined a very fit body and a knit black top that twisted around her in an alluring way. And that gold charm bracelet, now glinting against the black sleeve of her top.

“Hello again,” I said, sliding a menu onto the table.

“I’ll have exactly what I had yesterday.”

“Green tea, egg salad?”

“Right.”

I brought the tea and sandwich a few minutes later, and later still refilled her hot water when I was asked. When she had finished and I went to clear her plate, she invited me to join her at the table. I froze.

“Just for a second,” she said, nudging the chair across from her.

“I’m working,” I said, feeling clenched and a little cornered. I could see Dell in the kitchen through the cutout window behind the bar. What if this woman asked me questions about the notebook?

“I’m sure Will won’t mind if you sit a bit,” Matilda said. “Besides, the place is empty.”

“You know Will?” I said, sinking slowly into the chair.

“I know a lot of people, Cassie. But I don’t know you.”

“Well, I’m not that interesting. I’m just me. I’m just a waitress and … that’s it, really.”

“No woman’s just a waitress, or just a teacher, or just a mother.”