“Why don’t you just flirt with the man already? You’ve been looking at him with get-me-naked eyes since he walked in.”
“Untrue. My eyes don’t say things like that. I just have an astigmatism so maybe they look that way to hussies like you,” I teased.
“Hey! You’re a hussy!” she laughed and took a bite. “But you’re a damn fine cook, for a nasty little tramp.”
“Don’t you forget it. My Tinder profile says that. Good cook, nasty tramp. Shame I don’t get more right swipes on that thing.”
“Probably geography. You live in Rockford Falls. It’s not exactly a mecca.”
“Overton has more than one stoplight.”
“And that’s our criteria for a big city. More than one stoplight and a Starbucks. We’re not exactly cosmopolitan.”
“Maybe that’s what I like about it. I know everybody. I make the best pie, I know Trixie does the best flowers, if I need someone to be taken out, I call you or your husband.”
“He’s the sheriff. He’s not a hit man.”
“Whatever, if I offer him chocolate pie, he might pull the trigger for me.”
“Knowing your pie, I wouldn’t bet against it,” she said. “So, who do you want whacked?”
“I didn’t say whacked. I said, ‘taken out’ and no one right now. It’s just good to know I have friends to help me out if there’s a problem.”
“So, you have access to flowers and gunmen? That’s what Rockford Falls has going for it?”
“There are towns that have less to recommend them,” I said, and took her coffee cup. “Want a refill?”
“No, I better go. My mom’s probably hand-feeding Brenna M&M’s and buying her anything she wants off Amazon by now. But you should totally ask Max out.”
“Are you kidding? He’s a single dad. He doesn’t have time for anything like that. Plus, I need to work every shift I can get to save to buy the diner. Nobody has time for your matchmaking, girl.”
“Fine, be alone and miserable. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said.
“Okay, love you,” I said. I hugged her bye and she left.
I got the order for Max and Sadie’s table and delivered it. All the celery was still on her plate except one microscopic bite, but she’d eaten two and a half carrot sticks and the entire cup of ranch.
“So, I got some Vitamin A in the kid, and recruited another lifelong ranch-lover. My work here is done,” I said, setting the fish sandwich in front of Max.
“Are you sure it was regular ranch? I’ve tried that at home.”
“Same as they have at the grocery store.”
“So she only likes it if you serve it to her? That’s not gonna help get vegetables in her at home,” he said.
“Try putting it in a little cup instead of on the plate where it touches her food.”
“Yes, Daddy. It can’t touch my other food!” Sadie said as if vindicated.
“Sorry, did I step into an ongoing argument?”
“Yes. And I got her a divided plate. But I think she wants barbed wire fencing between the food and maybe a moat. It can never touch. If barbecue sauce touches a tater tot, we’re all doomed,” he said. I laughed.
“I—it’s probably not funny to you. It sounded funny,” I said. “Can I get you anything else?”
“A side order of ranch to go. In a little plastic cup please,” he said.
I shrugged and bagged up a couple dressing-on-the-side cups of ranch for him.
“Pie?”
“Yes!”
“How many bites did we say?” he asked Sadie. She frowned.
“Seven. But it isn’t fair because I’m only six.”
“Sadie-Lady,” I said, “not a good strategy. You’re walking right into the obvious, then I guess you only need six bites of pie.”
“I’ll take big bites,” she giggled.
“I know that trick,” Max said. “We’ll share a piece of apple.”
“With ice cream!” she said.
“Maybe next time,” her dad said, and she nodded.
“Ice cream next time,” she assured me.
“I’ll remember,” I said.
When I had waited on a few more tables and filled Damon’s to-go order and heard about Ashton’s ear infection, I took the pie to Max and Sadie with two spoons.
“Thank you,” he said, “for everything.”
“Anytime,” I said, placing their check on the corner of the table. “Next time when you come in and get ice cream with your pie, you can tell me how your bunny is doing.”
“He sleeps all the time. I think it’s because he’s a boy,” she said.
“What makes you say that?”
“My teacher said men are lazy.”
“What?” I asked. “Oh, is this Mrs. Henderson? Yeah, she’s going through a divorce. Maybe don’t pay any attention to what she says about boys right now, okay?” I said with a nervous giggle.
“I think the rabbit sleeps all the time because he’s overfed,” Max said, taking a bite of pie. “So this will make us lazy too, all this food and then good pie on top of it.”
“Are we gonna be lazy bunnies at home?” Sadie giggled.