Thanks for reading my first Saturday Story: Rags to Riches. The below is Part 2; if you haven’t read Part 1, please find it here.

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Part 2:

She was dressed in a sharp, midnight blue suit and black suede heels (an ensemble that probably cost more than what I used to spend on rent for many months combined). “Congratulations, Ms. Bruno,” the real estate agent said as she smiled, handing me my keys.

“Thank you, Ms. Pierce,” I said, accepting the keys.

I couldn’t believe that this was my life. I stood back to take it all in; to admire my new… house? No. Not a house. It’s a mansion. A sprawling estate on perfectly manicured grounds that seemed to go for miles. Life really can change in an instant, I mused.

…

Before the windfall…

Whether the summer heat caused beads of sweat to form on the back of my neck, or winter’s chill attacked and quickly numbed any exposed skin, I wiggled and pulled. The key to the restaurant always stuck in the lock. No DIY remedy or professional locksmith could fix it for long. I had been struggling with this lock for years. The irony? Our neighbourhood diner was actually quite welcoming- once one of the staff could open the door, that is.

I studied hospitality and tourism in college, but my training in the industry started at this very diner when I was a teenager. After years of working as a runner/dishwasher, then as a member of the waitstaff, I was promoted to the position of the diner’s manager.

Our customers were friendly, and my staff were reliable. The previous managers instituted some good policies, but I wanted each and every person to feel that they were welcome. It was more than a neighbourhood diner to me, and I wanted to create a lasting impression; a simple diner could remind patrons of their grandmother’s kitchen, and feel less like the many franchises we’ve come to know so well- if we worked hard enough. Our dedication paid off. In fact, so many of our customers were ‘regulars’ that it was cause for excitement when an unknown person walked into our establishment.  As such, the ‘regulars’ were the heart of our operation, and all of us had our favourites. I am fond of so many of our customers, but after so many years, I consider Rosalee a friend and confidant.

Rosalee is the first customer I spoke to on my first day on the job. As a teenager at the time, I was unsure and quiet, but she was so kind. An older lady, she is easy to open up to. Over the years, she has become a trusted friend, and is endlessly helpful, as she has assisted in helping me to navigate through many of my own personal storms. Rosalee is soft-spoken, but exudes a nearly regal air of patient confidence. She is the perfect mix of maternal and formidable, and she has been a customer of the diner for years (for many years before I met her).

Rosalee always orders the same thing: a slice of warm apple pie, and a black coffee. (It’s good pie, but as she visits the diner every other day, I don’t know how she never tired of it throughout the years.) Because of Rosalee, apple pie survived every menu revision and budget cut. I make sure to have fresh apple pie just for her.

It was a Wednesday afternoon.

The diner was quiet, so I told Rosalee that one of my brother’s ‘friends’ had conducted a private batting practice on my father’s car (after she found out that my brother had been ‘scouting players’ from various teams).

Rosalee listened patiently, as always. As one of the diner’s most valued customers, Rosalee had met my brother, and knew a bit about him from our conversations. She didn’t comment on his immature antics, instead sympathizing with Chris’s ‘friend,’ Jenny, when she said, “I believe it was William Penn who said, ‘The jealous are troublesome to others, but a torment to themselves.‘”

I placed my cell phone on the table, and nodded in agreement. Looking towards my phone, I explained, “Chris said he’d call me if there is a problem with the car’s repair.”

“When will your parents be home from your Aunt’s cottage?” Rosalee asked.

“Saturday afternoon,” I responded.

My phone rang, and Chris’s picture filled the screen.

I looked at Rosalee, and exhaled in anticipation of trouble.

“You’re such a good sister,” Rosalee complimented and encouraged me. I gave her a slight smile of gratitude as I answered the phone.

“Hello?”

………

Thanks for reading! Please check back next week for Part 3 of my Saturday Story: Rags to Riches.

Give your life the green light. It’s A Go!

Amber Green

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

© 2018 Amber Green