Page 59 of Just Ten Seconds

“You went to school for it.” Her argument earns a nod from her father.

“That has nothing to do with—”

“Mara will do it,” Mr. Kenner speaks up from his table.

The three of us turn to him. I can feel the crease of my scowl as I look at him, wondering what on earth he has to do with any of this.

“Excuse me?” I say to him. Polite and yet in a what the hell are you talking about way.

“I’m the benefactor for the theater,” he explains, not looking up from taking his last bite of food.

I look to Dean who nods. “He is,” Dean explains.

Jackie is on the other side of the room, at the front counter, nodding her head as well. He is, she mouths.

Mr. Kenner wipes his mouth with his napkin and then places it on the table. As he gets up, it’s with a wobbly hand on the table as he braces his weight. I know from experience not to hurt his pride by offering to help. I watch as he stands as straight as he can.

“If Mara doesn’t step in until Mrs. Needleman’s better, the show’s canceled.” His words are said sternly as he takes his fedora off the table and places it on his head. “We can’t have an amateur running the show. We need someone who’s trained.”

I let out a sigh. “Mr. Kenner, I haven’t done theater in twelve years, and I gave up acting a long time ago. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with teaching it. This is very much out of my scope of expertise.”

He slides his coat on and then stamps his cane at my feet. He looks up with beady little eyes and a raised chin. “What’s the matter? A little change isn’t so bad,” he says with a wide smile that makes the lines on his cheeks deepen. It looks forced and fake. Although that could be because of his dentures that seem too big for his mouth.

I place a hand on my hip. “You can’t throw my words back at me to make a point.”

“I can, and I just did.” He looks to Amanda and points a finger. “Mara will be there. And you’ll be a terrific Flounder!”

“Yes!” Amanda pumps a fist in the air.

My shoulders fall as I realize I’ve been played by an old man with a vendetta against change.

Mr. Kenner’s smile falls back to a scowl as he says, “Now, I believe these nice people want pancakes.”

Like the good waitress I am, I saunter back to the kitchen window and put in two orders of pancakes. I gnaw on my fingernail as I try to figure out exactly how I’m going to get out of this pickle.

Nick puts the plates on the window ledge and grimaces. “While you were chatting over there, I took care of two of your tables.”

“Sorry about that,” I say, my thumb still in my mouth.

“Leave the woman alone,” Jackie says in her husky voice as she approaches. “Mara has an admirer.”

“Stop saying that,” I say to her. “I already told Dean I’m not ready for anything.”

Jackie hands me a tray and then loads it with plates. “Yeah, but now, you have an excuse to see him three times a week.”

“That wasn’t my idea. That was all Mr. Kenner,” I explain.

“I never liked that man,” she says with a smug smile. “Now, I love him.”

My apron suddenly feels too tight, so I stick my fingers in the sides and pull a little. It still feels stifling. I’m uncomfortable. “Jackie,” I start.

She raises a brow. “You know, it’s good to see you smile. I haven’t seen you relax in a while. I think you’re doing really well.”

Her proud look is one of relief—for her. For me, it brings on trepidation.

“Can you do me a favor and not talk about Benjamin with Dean around?” I ask her.

“Of course, sweetie. You know I wouldn’t. Neither would Nick. I mean, the guy doesn’t like to talk to anyone about anything, so you’re good there.” Instead of being concerned by my comment, she only smiles.