Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
By one o’clock, the lunch rush had begun to clear, leaving only three tables of late diners lingering over their rye toast. Henry was still at the dish station, his shoulders hunched as he lifted a heavy tub of dirty plates.
Troy walked back through the swinging kitchen door, holding a fresh clean apron in his hand. He stopped next to Henry and gently took the heavy plastic tub out of the older man’s grip, setting it down on the stainless-steel prep table.
“That is enough of that for now, Henry,” Troy said. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard all week.”
“The lunch dishes must be finished before the evening shift arrives,” Henry said, wiping his wet hands on his apron.
“I’ll have Megan finish the plates,” Troy said, waving a hand toward the dining room. “You go on and take a real break. Go sit out back in the fresh air for twenty minutes.”
Henry hesitated, looking at his worn leather work boots.
“I do not want to fall behind on my duties, Troy,” Henry said.
“You aren’t falling behind,” Troy said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “You’re doing a wonderful job around here. Go on out.”
