Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
The business was more than just a line on a ledger.
It was the warmth of the room on a cold November morning, and the sound of the plates clinking, and the smell of the rye.
He took another drink of his coffee, the warmth settling deep in his chest.
Henry walked over to the rear booth, carrying a fresh pot of coffee to top off Carter’s mug.
You’re staying for the lunch shift? Henry asked, pouring a splash of hot coffee into the cup.
I am, Carter said. I think I’ll stay through the evening, too.
You don’t have to do that, Henry said. We have the new staff trained up, and Clara has the register handled.
I know, Carter said. But I like the view from here.
Henry looked out the window at the parking lot, where another car was pulling in.
It’s a good view, Henry said. The trees across the street are almost done losing their leaves.
They are, Carter said. The oak by the corner is completely bare now.
The winters are hard in Springfield, Henry said. But the heater in the apartment works fine.
