Chapter 4

Their meetings were discreet. Not that either of them would have felt any embarrassment at being discovered; it's just that it was nobody else's business but theirs, and neither had any interest in serving as grist for the small-town rumor mill. Jennie's Volvo was never seen parked in front of Errol's room, and his Datsun was never seen parked in front of her house. For one thing, it was unnecessary since Jennie lived less than a half a mile from the Diner. Walking was no chore.

As they worked together at the diner, they refrained from any telltale actions that would draw unwanted attention; no covert rubbing up against each other, no stolen kisses when they thought no one was looking, no monopolizing each other's time. If there was any evidence at all of their feelings for each other, it would have been in the occasional and fleeting looks of adoration that passed between them ... or was it lust? Both.

Margie knew, of course. Margie knew everything. She certainly knew Jennie for the vulnerable, delicate soul that she was in spite of her tough image, and never let on that she had even a clue about what she and Errol were up to. She had seen them share a quick kiss at Errol's doorway a couple of times before Jennie made her way across the highway to the diner. It almost made her want to weep for the girl's obvious happiness. The poor thing had suffered way too much in the past, and now she'd found herself a guy who was the very antithesis of the moron who had hurt her so badly.

As the holidays approached, Jennie gave some thought to preparing a nice, intimate Thanksgiving dinner at home for just her and Errol. She always closed down the diner on Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, not because of any religious convictions, but because there just wasn't any business; at least not enough to warrant paying the help. But something about Errol made her think he might not be comfortable with the idea. She couldn't put her finger on anything specific, but he was such an intensely private person, she wondered if he might have some issue with holidays in general, like he was a closet curmudgeon or something.

Rather than come right out and put him on the spot, she took a more circumspect approach as they were closing up on Halloween night. A few people in costumes had stopped in, presumably either going to or coming from a party somewhere.

When the last couple, a witch and a scarecrow left, she locked the door and went into the kitchen to turn off the lights and sign. Errol was cleaning the grill. He'd traded shifts with Carol, the night cook, so she could go to a party, and Jennie had taken over for the night waitress for the same reason. As she was loading the dishwasher, she casually asked, "So, what's your favorite holiday, Errol?"

"Holiday? Oh I don't know, I guess Memorial Day means something to me. That and the 4th of July. I guess that's about it."

"No Christmas, Thanksgiving or Easter?"

"No. I don't observe any religious holidays. I leave that to the religious."

"But Thanksgiving isn't really a religious holiday, is it?"

"It has that connotation, doesn't it? Give thanks to whom?"

"But didn't you love Christmas when you were a kid?"

He thought about it. "Yeah, I suppose I did until I was maybe ten years old. That's when it finally soaked into my head that it was mostly a bunch of phony crap. All I can remember is a bunch of relatives getting together and raising hell, petty arguments over who got what, people drinking their selves into a stupor and puking on the floor. My mom didn't drink, so she was the one who always had to try to keep peace in the family and clean up the messes. I have no good memories of any of the so-called family holidays."

"Really? That's sad. Dad always insisted on a traditional Christmas with a big tree, beautifully wrapped presents and a Christmas breakfast of blueberry pancakes with whipped cream. You know, like scenes right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. And he insisted we go to mass on Christmas morning. He also insisted we observe Christmas for what it was intended to be, and not for the commercialism."

"Must've made some nice memories for you," he said. "How about your mom? I've never hear you mention her."

"She died of ovarian cancer when I was three. I don't remember her at all."

Errol shrugged. "Then aside from that, I guess I envy you your experiences. As for me, I don't do Christmas and Easter because I'm not a Christian, and Thanksgiving has the same feeling to it, at least for me. In truth, I'm far more comfortable holed up somewhere reading a good book. I don't send cards, I don't give or accept Christmas gifts, and I don't go to Christmas parties. I find it all somewhat tedious, and I'm better off being alone."

"Hmm", Jennie sighed, "I'm glad you told me that because with the holidays coming up, I surely would have done something to cause you some discomfort."

"In that case, I'm glad you asked. Tell you what, though; I'd be happy to open up the diner and take care of what few customers might drift in on Thanksgiving and Christmas day. In fact, I could roast a couple of turkeys and serve up some traditional meals."

Jennie laughed, "So you're not a total Scrooge, then."

"Of course not! I don't begrudge people their holidays, I just don't choose to share them. You know what? Now that I think about it, maybe you could get the word out to the 'have-nots' around the area that they're welcome to stop in for a good meal and pay whatever they can afford. Nothing, if they have nothing. It'd be some pretty good PR for you, wouldn't it? And you could donate whatever money comes in to the local food bank or something."

"You mean you want to do it all by yourself?"

"Sure, why not? I mean, how many customers would we have? No more than a few, I'm betting. I really wouldn't mind, and we can serve the leftovers the next day."

She pushed the button to start the dishwasher. "Well let me think about that. We could just be open from like eight in the morning until mid-afternoon, say two or three. All the rest of the help would be off, of course. It'd just be the two of us."

"Hey, why should you give up your holidays? I'm sure I can handle it on my own."

"I'm sure you can too, but it sounds like something I'd like to do. Since Dad died, I really don't have any family around anyhow. I especially like the idea of providing some good meals for some of the needy folks hereabouts. We've still got a lot of unemployed since the economy went south in '08 and shut down a few local businesses. But like I said, let me think about it some."

Valerie put in another appearance, but this time at the diner, not Errol's room. He was just putting up a cheeseburger basket when he saw her come in the door and look right at him.

Shit, he thought, just what I need!

She wiggled her fingers at him and he nodded curtly, feeling a smile would be interpreted as forgiveness. He watched her approach Jennie behind the counter and speak with her briefly. Jennie looked like she was thinking about whatever she said for a minute, then nodded and motioned for Valerie to follow her. They came into the kitchen.