Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
She did not look up when Carter sat down.
She reached blindly for a laminated menu, her fingers leaving a small smudge on the plastic surface.
Megan dropped the menu on the counter in front of him without ever making eye contact.
“Just coffee for now, miss,” Carter said, keeping his gravelly voice quiet.
Megan finally glanced toward his face, her eyes lingering on the faded blue construction cap for a brief second before she turned toward the metal coffee urns.
Carter pulls his blue cap lower as Megan slides a thick ceramic mug across the counter.
Megan walked over to the cash register where Troy Dixon, the lead shift cashier, was leaning against the counter. Troy was using a paper towel to wipe down the register’s gray plastic casing, his movements lazy.
Megan leaned her elbow on the counter and muttered, “Table six left sixty cents on a twenty-dollar check. Retirees.”
Troy did not look up from the register. “They calculate the tax to the penny, Megan. It is a science to them.”
“We do things a certain way here, and we do them fast,” Megan said, snapping her gum.
