“Serena?” he prodded, after waving an acknowledgement toward the other table.
“I’ll just have a glass of ice water now. I’m expecting someone to join me. I’ll order when he arrives.”
He nodded and moved away. After refilling coffees at several tables, he returned to set a glass of water in front of Serena. “The boyfriend seems to be running late,” he remarked, nodding toward the empty chair across from her.
“The employee who is joining me is sixty-five years old and chronically late,” she replied, and then wondered why she’d bothered to correct him.
Sam’s rather smug smile let her know that he had been fishing for information, probably out of nothing more than idle curiosity. She had to admit he was pretty good at it. “Give me a sign when you’re ready to order,” he said, and then moved on to another table.
While she waited for Marvin, she watched Sam at work. Of course she watched him, she thought wryly—that seemed to be all she did when he was around. But it was interesting. He didn’t seem to have a lot of experience at waiting tables, but what he lacked in skill, he made up for in hustle. Despite his injuries, he never seemed to slow down. Despite being a newcomer to the area, he chatted comfortably with the customers. They eyed his bruises, of course, but seemed to accept his presence easily enough; nearly everyone had heard about the hapless drifter who’d been robbed and dumped in Serena’s ditch. And since everyone knew of Marjorie’s penchant for helping those in need, no one seemed particularly surprised to see Sam working at her diner.
Edstown had a history of opening its arms to ecc
entrics and oddballs, Serena mused. Sam Wallace seemed to fit in to both those categories.
She’d been waiting at the table for twenty minutes and had emptied two glasses of ice water before she conceded that Marvin was a no-show. Again. “Looks like your employee had something come up,” Sam commented, filling her glass again.
“My soon-to-be-ex-employee,” Serena muttered, finally accepting the inevitable. She had to let Marvin go—if she could ever catch up with him long enough to tell him.
“What’s your soon-to-be-ex-employee’s job?”
“Managing editor of the Evening Star, the town newspaper. My family has owned the paper for several generations, but I’ve only been lucky enough to run it for the past six months. Now it looks like I’m going to have to hire a new editor.”
“Sorry to hear that. Want some lunch now?”
She nodded. “As a matter of fact, I’m starving. I’ll have a turkey sandwich and a fruit salad.”
“Excellent choice, madam. I’ll bring that right out to you.”
Taking advantage of a respite as the lunch crowd thinned, Marjorie left Justine at the register and crossed the room to Serena’s table, sinking into the empty chair. “Justine said you were expecting Marvin to join you for lunch.”
“He stood me up.”
Frowning in concern, Marjorie suggested, “Perhaps things got hectic at the newspaper and he couldn’t get away.”
“Or perhaps he decided to have a liquid appetizer and forgot all about our appointment.”
Sighing regretfully, Marjorie nodded. “I suppose that’s possible.”
“I’m going to have to let him go, Mom.”
“Oh, Serena. Can’t you give him another chance?”
“How many chances should I give him? A dozen? A hundred? Should I wait until he puts Great-granddad’s paper completely out of business? Because I have to tell you, it’s hanging on by a very thin thread now.”
“It’s that bad?”
Serena saw no reason to sugarcoat her answer. “It’s that bad. Advertising revenues are down, and since Marvin has apparently lost all interest in his job, the paper seems to have no focus at all these days. Riley’s tried to fill in, but he has his own duties to perform, and he’s falling behind in all of them. You know he isn’t crazy about schedules and responsibilities, anyway. He only works at the paper to make enough to support his writing habit.”
“Do you think he’s ever going to finish that novel he’s been working on for so long?”
Serena shrugged. “Who knows? But it makes a great excuse for him to avoid extra duties. I approached him about taking over as managing editor—he’s certainly qualified, even with his shortcomings—but he wants no part of it. He told me to hire someone else and he’ll continue to do the job he’s been doing, at least until he finishes and sells his great novel.”
“What about Lindsey? She’s a trained journalist.”
“Yes, and she’s a very good reporter. Too good for our paper, probably. She should be working in one of the bigger markets, moving up the editorial ladder there. But she isn’t ready to take over the Evening Star. She’s too young, too impulsive, too impatient with the politics of business management. As long as she’s content to cover local news, that’s what I would like for her to do. We’ve got a high school junior covering local sports and a retired home economics teacher writing the weekly food column. There’s no one currently on staff, other than Riley, who’s qualified as managing editor. I’ll have to hire from outside.”
“Then that’s what you’ll do,” Marjorie said firmly. “As fond as I am of Marvin, we can’t let him destroy our family heritage.”