Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
David set the pumice block down and wiped his hands on his apron.
The bacon is ready to go on, Henry, David said. Do you want me to drop the first batch of hash browns now?
Give it five minutes, Henry said. The utility crew from the power plant usually comes in at twenty to eight.
They like the potatoes crispy, so let the grill get up to temperature first, Henry added.
David nodded and turned the dial on the thermostat, the gas burners underneath the steel griddle roaring with a low, blue hum.
Carter watched the young cook lay the thick strips of bacon onto the hot metal, the fat immediately beginning to sizzle and curl.
The white steam rose toward the hood, where the exhaust fan was turning quietly without the old rattling shake.
Henry picked up a clean green rag and began to wipe down the stainless-steel prep table.
The metal was cool and bright, reflecting the yellow light of the heat lamps above the pass-through.
The small apartment is nice, Henry said, keeping his eyes on his work as he moved the rag in long, smooth strokes.
