Page 4 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
Subtle.I felt my lips quirk. “Do you?”
Rose nodded. “Every day this week.”
“Not to be rude or anything, but why?” From what I could see, Shadow Ridge was a nice place, but notbusloads of people come to visitnice.
Rose wasn’t offended. In fact, she laughed. “I thought the same thing when John and I first came here a few years ago. There’s a casino about ten miles down the road, literally in the middle of nowhere. The smaller bus companies like to stop here because we offer them a great deal during the week and they’re able to keep their package fares low. On the weekends, we get a lot of people coming in from the surrounding counties for the farmers market and such. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re the only place in town that can handle a crowd. Well, at least when we’re not short-staffed. And—I know this is going to sound weird—but there’s something about Shadow Ridge that keeps drawing people back.”
It didn’t sound that weird. Unlike so many of the places I’d visited, Shadow Ridge felt comfortable. It checked all my boxes too. Out of the way. Low-key. Easy and uncomplicated.
She looked at me with hopeful eyes, and I had to admit, it was tempting. Staying in Shadow Ridge for a few days wouldn’t be a hardship. A couple more busloads like today, and I wouldn’t have to stop at another ATM for a month.
“Is this place actually an inn?”
“Not for the last hundred years,” Rose said. “We had dreams of restoring the upper floors, but the bar and restaurant are about all we can handle right now. The casino will charge you an arm and a leg for a room, but there’s a place just off the interstate that’s cheap and clean. You probably passed it on your way in.”
“All right, Rose,” I said. “Why not?”
2
I stacked the plates,glasses, and silverware on the big oval tray, hefted it up onto my shoulder, and carried them back into the kitchen. Max, our busboy, had his hands full, and I didn’t mind helping.
The inn was busy tonight, but that was nothing unusual. It was popular—and literally the only place in town. Great food. Great atmosphere. Great prices. What wasn’t to like?
I’d agreed to stick around for a couple of days. Those couple of days had turned into a week. Then two. I was still here, waitressing nearly every day, staving off one crisis after another. I served food, did kitchen prep, bussed tables, and helped behind the bar sometimes. Rose thought I was the greatest thing since sliced bread, and I got along with everyone. Well, not Larissa. She was still cranky, lazy, and rude to everyone, except the hot guys who came in frequently.
I neither minded nor cared about the guys. She was welcome to them.
The fact that she didn’t even try to do a good job? That pissed me off. I didn’t have a lot of patience for slackers. I never had.
I kept telling myself I would leave soon, but I felt no sense of urgency to do so. I liked it here. The quirky staff—apart from Larissa—was growing on me. Rose, with her spitfire personality and quick temper, and John, with his capable, calming presence. Lou, with his ever-present devilish grin and frequent allusions to a sketchy but memorable past. Shannon, who was my age and already had three kids and a fourth on the way. Sandy, the other full-time waitress, who was quiet and didn’t say much. CJ, the strong, silent bartender, who doubled as a bouncer. The high school–aged twins, Michelle and Max, who waited and bussed when they weren’t in school. And Jessie, the self-proclaimed psychic–slash–kitchen helper. They were a motley crew, to be sure, but good people.
Then there were the customers. I was getting to know the regulars by name as well as their drink and food preferences. They were small-town folk, content to live in this idyllic little valley and leave the rest of the world to handle its business. Apparently, I was inclined to do the same because, as I’d said, I was still here.
It wasn’t as if I had any place I had to be. Or someone waiting for me. No one cared where I was or what I was doing.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. My friend Angie insisted that I check in occasionally to assure her that I was alive and well. She was the only one I’d kept in contact with since I’d slipped away and left that life behind. I never told her where I was beyond the vaguest of terms. Even now, she knew only that I was somewhere in the northeast US, working my way south.
It was safer that way. For both of us.
The people at the inn didn’t know anything about that, of course. I shared nothing of my prior life with them. When they asked, I’d smile, say something vague about indulging my wanderlust before I settled down somewhere, and adroitly change the subject.
They didn’t need to know that I’d been the victim of a deranged stalker and nearly died. Or that I’d been so traumatized by the event that I could barely function for weeks afterward. Or that, when I’d finally learned to take a full breath again, he’d once again made his presence known by threatening not just me, but those around me as well.
I’d decided I couldn’t live like that anymore. It was hardly living at all. I was cowering in fear, waiting for the inevitable, afraid that he would use those around me to get what he wanted.
So, I’d left, and here I was.
Alone but alive.
I knew I’d have to leave again eventually. But not yet. I was enjoying my temporary respite in Shadow Ridge. And why wouldn’t I? Thanks to Rose, I was staying in a cozy little caretaker’s cottage with an idyllic view for practically nothing. Lou was making me delicious meals to take home every night, and the tips were putting plenty of cash in my pocket. Bonus: thanks to the many hours I was waitressing, my arms were toning up, and my ass was nearly back to its pre–road trip size.
I used my hips to push my way through the swinging doors and into the kitchen, carrying the tray of dirty dishes to the back, where the industrial sinks were.
“How are you holding up there, sweetheart?” drawled Lou, glancing up from the grill.
It was easier to picture him in black biker leather than the white chef’s coat he was wearing. His long black hair was pulled tightly back and secured at the nape of his neck, his intense, dark eyes focused intently on me. It had unnerved me at first, but I had come to realize that was just Lou being Lou. He was big and scary on the outside, but inside, he was a marshmallow with the heart of a protector.
“I’m hanging in there,” I told him, and I was. My feet ached from being on them so long, but my pockets were full, and the vibe in the place was a good one tonight.
