LITMIR.BIZ

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face before the makeup.”

      “That’s an idea. Thanks.”

      Hasty poured himself some more coffee, then came back to lean his elbow on the counter. “Ray’s wake is tonight and tomorrow night. Funeral Friday morning. I’m thinking about going to the funeral.”

      “I guess I should,” Haley said reluctantly. The last funeral she had been to was her mother’s, and she wasn’t sure she ever again wanted to see the inside of Meeker’s Funeral Home. “The wake, anyway. For a few minutes. I have a final Friday morning.”

      “Ray had his troubles,” Hasty opined, “but the family’s never been a problem. Being poor ain’t a sin, despite what some think.”

      “You’re talking to a couple of waitresses,” Claire said, a touch tartly. “We know.”

      Hasty flashed a grin. “You girls get better tips than my day girls. They got you beat on poor.”

      Claire sniffed. “Your day girls don’t work as hard. If they want more money, tell them to work nights.”

      Hasty was still looking amused. “I think they get that.”

      A short while later, the night’s first wave rolled in. Haley and Claire jumped to work, and after a little while, even though she noticed she was a little slower than usual, Haley felt her face calming down.

      At least nobody asked her about it. She joked casually with some of the drivers, but it seemed like an oddly quiet night. She wondered if news about Ray’s death had gotten around and they were all feeling a little more sober than usual.

      The place sure didn’t feel quite as energetic as it usually did when it was full. Or maybe that was the little pill Hasty had given her.

      She was working her way back through her section, clearing some tables, handing out tickets and picking up cash and change, serving latecomers, when Buck Devlin walked in. It was so unusual to see him when the place was crowded that she froze for a split second. He got his usual table, though, despite the crowd, and she worked her way toward him.

      It wasn’t easy. The night turned unusual in that another wave arrived before the first was done. Hasty was cooking with both hands as fast as he could, and Claire was looking a bit frazzled. What was going on?

      Then someone asked her for directions to the funeral parlor and she knew: these men had heard about Ray’s death and that his wake started tonight. Whether they’d known him or not, at least some were going to pay their respects, however briefly.

      Because of the hour, most ate quickly, then headed out to walk to the funeral home, only a couple of blocks away.

      “Isn’t that something?” Claire murmured to her as they brushed past each other.

      Haley nodded. It was the last thing she would have expected.

      At last she made it to Buck’s table. By this point her apron was showing signs of wear and a tickle at her neck told her some of her hair had escaped from the bun.

      “The usual?” she asked him.

      “Not tonight,” he answered. “What do you recommend?”

      “Anything,” she answered promptly. “It’s all good.”

      “Then surprise me.” He smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes.

      “Anything you don’t like or can’t eat?”

      “I’ve never been picky.”

      “You’re so helpful,” she said tartly. “I’m a waitress, not a wife. Pick something from the menu. I promise you’ll like it.”

      So he pulled the plastic card from the holder. “You going to Ray’s wake?” he asked casually as he scanned the menu.

      “Tomorrow night. I’m surprised so many drivers are going.”

      “Yeah. They’ve been gabbing about it on the radio since it happened. It bothers them.”

      “I guess I can see that. Did many of them know him?”

      “I don’t know. But I do know it doesn’t make any sense.”

      “When does it ever?”

      He looked up and his eyes seemed to bore into her. “Something wrong?”

      She caught herself, wondering why she was being so prickly. “Sorry.” Then a thought occurred to her. “I took an allergy pill. I guess it’s not agreeing with me.”

      He nodded, dropped his gaze to the menu and said, “I’ll take the steak, medium rare, side of mashed potatoes and broccoli.”

      She scribbled it down then tried for a lighter note. “A man who eats broccoli. I hope Hasty can remember how to cook it.”

      “Nuke it for three if it’s frozen,” Buck said and winked. “Otherwise, I’ll take it raw.”

      That drew a laugh from her and she felt some inexplicable tension seeping away. Maybe it was just from the unusual burst of traffic. She was used to one level of activity, but tonight had been almost double. Then there was her face burning up and the allergy pill. Enough to make her just a bit irritable.

      Hasty remembered how to make the broccoli, of course. She carried the plates to Buck’s table, refilled his coffee and went to take care of the remaining handful of drivers. In another half hour, the place had quieted almost to desolation, and, one by one, trucks started pulling out of the lot. She figured that might be the last of them for a while if they’d hurried to get here for the wake.

      “Time for a smoke break,” Hasty announced. “You gals take some time, too.”

      “I’m joining you,” Claire said.

      “You don’t smoke,” Haley remarked.

      “I used to. And right now I want one.”

      Hasty eyed Haley. “You going to be okay?”

      “Like I can’t hold the fort for ten minutes?”

      So the two of them headed out back. Which left her alone in the restaurant with Buck Devlin, who was taking his time with his steak.

      “Join me,” he suggested. “It wouldn’t hurt to rest your feet.”

      She supposed it wouldn’t. “Are you going to Ray’s wake, too?” She glanced at her watch. If she remembered correctly, wakes ended at nine, and it was already past that.

      “Tomorrow night,” he answered.

      All of a sudden everything zipped into clear focus. The faint fog left by the allergy pill was gone. Her heart even remembered how to speed up. “You’re staying in town?”

      “Over at the La-Z-Rest. I’m on vacation.”

      She almost gaped at him.

      He caught the expression and his eyes danced a little. “What?”

      “Why in the world would someone on vacation stay here?”

      “Where would you go?”

      “Any place. Denver. New York. Paris. Miami. I don’t know. Some place with things to do.”

      “So you want action?”

      “I wouldn’t exactly put it like that,” she admitted. “There’s nothing wrong with this place. I like it. It just doesn’t strike me as a vacation spot.”

      “That’s because you live here. You can’t see its charm.”

      A little laugh escaped her. “We roll up the sidewalks at nine, except for here and the roadhouses. You’re going to get bored.”

      “I doubt it. It’s quiet here. I like that. Plenty of nice places to walk. I like that, too, especially when I spend so much time driving.”

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