“I heard they is gonna be openin’ a factory just up the road. Some kind of assembly work is what I hear,” Beatrice whispered, even though the number of people inside Janice’s Diner numbered less than five, not including the staff. Betty and Beatrice sat at the third booth from the door. Doc and Jim left ten minutes earlier, leaving a truck driver passing through and a man everyone thought was a traveling salesman. He had a cheap suit, black tie, and a briefcase reminiscent of a Hollywood movie villain carrying a lot of cash. He kept the case close to him, taking it to the restroom.

Betty whispered back to Beatrice, “How many folks you think they is gonna hire anyway, Bea?”

“Dunno,” Beatrice whispered back. “Just a rumor, I suppose. But they is workin’ out there on Heaven Sent Dairy’s land. Looks like built a giant warehouse of some kind.” Beatrice stopped talking when Kathy walked up with a full carafe of fresh coffee. “How are you doin’ sweetheart?” Beatrice asked Kathy.

Kathy shrugged. “I’m good. Still workin’, so I guess that’s sayin’ somethin’ ain’t it?” She winked at Beatrice and Betty. “Can I get you ladies anything else?” The truck driver stood up and stretched, taking his check to the register.

“No, dearie. Thank you,” Beatrice replied.

“Miss Kathy,” Betty said between sips of her coffee, “Can I get two of those delicious pancakes, please?”

“You betcha, Miss Betty.” Kathy looked over at the truck driver. “Sir, I’ll be right with you,” Kathy yelled over her shoulder into the kitchen. “Miss Janice?!? I need two pancakes for Betty!”

“Kay!” Kathy shouted back. “That all?” Janice sounded like her teeth were clenched as if she were practicing her ventriloquism.

“Yeah!” Kathy shouted back. “Sorry about that, sir.” Kathy took his check, ringing him up. “Everything good?”

The driver stood six feet tall, about as tall as Kathy’s Dad, Jack. He wasn’t a big man. Tall, yes. But fit, trim. Not skinny. Definitely not overweight. He reminded Kathy of her Dad – solid and rugged but approachable. “Those pancakes.” The driver shook his head. “Man. They was something! Never had anything like them. And I’ve stopped all over the country in different diners. What’s the secret?”

“Now, mister,” Kathy blushed, “You know I can’t tell you that.”

He finished her sentence, “What? Not worth dying over, is it?”

Kathy giggled. “Maybe?” Kathy wasn’t good at flirting.

He handed her a fifty-dollar bill, his tab less than six dollars. “Keep it,” he said, winking at her. Kathy watched him walk back to the Mac truck, paying close attention to his stride. He looked strong. She wondered which company he drove for because his two trailers looked like every other trailer connected to some big rig. Plain. No decals. No identifiers of any kind. Not even the Mac had any specific identifying markers. Stuffing the cash tip into her apron, she walked into the kitchen, seeing Janice leaning against the kitchen wall, extinguishing her cigarette on the sole of her tennis shoe. “Don’t you dare look at me like that, girl.”

“You really need to quit.” Kathy’s voice was barely audible over the exhaust fan in the kitchen. “You know they say those things cause cancer,” she pointed at the smoldering cigarette butt. Janice stamped on it, flatting it.

“Yeah. So the Surgeon General keeps telling me,” Janice pulled the smokes out of her apron, pointing at the warning label on the side. “See? Right here. The darn fool thinks that putting a warning label on these damn things will stop me from smoking? Ha. Guess again, Doc!” Janice sighed, stretched, and poured batter on the grill. “This place is gonna be my death, ya know it?” Janice laughed. “Well. At least I’m doin’ something I love. At least after gettin’ rid of that no good cheatin’ husband of mine.” Both pancakes were smaller than a salad plate. But Janice said they were the perfect size. Not too big. Not too small.

“Don’t joke like that, Janice,” Kathy said. “It’s not even a little bit funny.”

Kathy chuckled, watching bubbles form and pop on the tops of both pancakes. “Yeah. Okay, Kathy. No more jokin’ ‘bout death.” Janice reached for another smoke and stuck it between her lips. Working in the kitchen made her makeup mush in less than four hours. She managed to sweat off the mascara. The eyeliner ran down the sides of each cheekbone. And her lips? They were pink instead of the bright red when she first came in. All of that happened in less than four hours. She hadn’t had a chance to reapply.

“Janice? Is that up to code?” Kathy winked. She knew Janice didn’t worry about the health department, especially since Pastor Theodore moonlighted as the only health inspector for Tri-Cities. Janice didn’t bribe him. Not exactly. But he did let her slide with minor infractions, smoking in the kitchen being one of them. Janice loaded his plate with food, charging him the same as everyone else. Only Pastor Theodore? He got twice as much food! On rare occasions, when Janice felt particularly generous, three times as much! In return, he let her infractions slide.

“Code? Schmode! I run this place,” her words came through her clenched teeth. Kathy understood what Janice said because she’d worked at the Diner for almost twenty years. Holding a smoke between her clenched teeth was an everyday thing. Either you got used to it, deciphering her speech, or you waited for her to be done smoking. And that was rare.

“Need anything before I head out?” Kathy asked her boss.

Janice shook her head, no, flipping the pancakes. “You’ll be here in the mornin’? Ain’t got nothin’ pressing that’s gonna take you away from me?” She pointed to a spot in the back of the kitchen and a massive refrigerator. “We gotta clean the grease trap and scrub down the walk-in. Last time Theo walked through here, I thought sure he was gonna write us up for all that.” Janice flipped both pancakes onto a plate. “Take this out on your way, please.”

“Sure. Oh, and besides Beatrice and Betty? There’s one man who looks dressed for church. Wanna take bets on what he does? He’s been clutching his briefcase like a dying man holding a lifesaver.” Kathy peeked through the round peephole on the door just in time to see him slowly open the case. “I wonder what he’s got inside there?”
“Oh, leave the poor man alone,” Janice said, clenching the unlit smoke between her teeth. “He just needs to eat. He’ll be alright after that. Seen too many men just like him. They go for days without eatin’, then they need to stop and eat, just before theys look like theys gonna pass out!” Janice lit the smoke. “You heard the rumor goin’ round about the factory on Patterson’s land? Emulsion corporation or some such nonsense.” Janice blew smoke over her head, trying to keep it from landing anywhere near the grill, even though she knew it would.

“I got an interview today out there. Call themselves ‘Emulsion Corporation.’ Assemble plastic pieces is what they is hirin’ for. Seems like nothin’ too hard about it. But I need a few extra hours a week.”

“You could work more for me,” Janice said through clenched teeth. “I’d be okay with that.” Janice attacked the warm grill with steel wool, sweat beads spreading across her forehead. “You could close two, maybe three nights a week. Whatcha think ‘bout that?” One spot on the grill caught Janice’s attention, a dark place where one of her cooks burned potatoes. That’s the only thing she could guess. “I suppose I could give you a raise too. You have been with me for a bit now.”

“Thank you, Janice. I appreciate it. But I want to do something besides waiting tables, you know?”

Janice nodded, one eye halfway closed to prevent smoke from getting in it. The cigarette ash fell short of the grill she scrubbed. “Go on. Get outta here. You got somewhere to be.” Janice waved the smoke away from her eyes moments before it stung them.