Free Second Chance (Cold Springs Series Book 1) by Nancy Henderson Page B
Authors: Nancy Henderson
didn’t know what to make of Burt’s comment. Sam could see that clearly on her face. Most people didn’t know how to take Burt.
“Can I get you some coffee?” Sam hoped to ease the poor girl’s discomfort. “Soda? Water?”
“Water would be nice.”
Sam quickly got her a bottle of water. She placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she handed her the bottle.
“Who on earth drinks water this time in the morning?” Burt asked.
“Don’t mind him. He’s…uh…he’s an early customer,” Sam explained. She had a feeling she’d be explaining Burt to a lot of people in the very near future.
“Oh, that’s okay.” Chrissy flashed an infectious smile. “He’s a cutie.”
Burt grinned from ear to ear.
Sam grabbed her notebook off the counter. “Why don’t we sit down and get started?”
Chrissy followed her to the table. “How come your name isn’t Jean?”
“Jean was my aunt.”
Chrissy nodded. “You should name it Sam’s Diner.”
Sam smiled. She’d thought briefly about changing the name. Not to Sam’s Diner but to something trendy involving coffee, but it seemed to be a disservice to all that Aunt Jean had built up. Everything which Sam hoped to carry on. Without her, Sam would still be in New York. Plus Jean had a reputation here. When the people of Cold Springs came here, they expected a hot beverage and a good meal. And lots of it. Sam had no right taking that away.
“So,” she began. “I need to hire a waitress.”
“She’s hired.” Burt strolled over with coffee mug in hand and pulled up a chair. He stared at her cleavage like a dehydrated horse at water. “When can you start?”
“No, Burt. She’s not. Not yet anyway.”
“Well, she looks promising.”
Sam ignored him. “So tell me about your work experience.”
Chrissy rested her arms on the table. “I don’t have any, but I like people. I like talking to them. I like making sure they’re happy. I think everyone should be happy, don’t you?”
“I do,” Burt agreed.
The bell on the door sounded and a woman suddenly came in. Middle fifties, maybe early sixties, she was close to six feet tall and built like an oak tree. Gray-brown hair was pinned in a sixties era beehive. She wore white scrubs and a white smock, buttoned to the neck. Shoes were something nurses—or waitresses—wore for comfort when working a double shift.
“Hi.” Sam stood. “May I help you?”
The woman crossed the room in three easy strides. “Martha Simms. I’m applying for the waitress position.”
Chrissy had been the first to response to her newspaper ad. Sam had simply put a phone number, no address or location. “How did you find the address?”
“This is Cold Springs. It wasn’t too hard to figure out.”
“Martha.” Burt crossed his arms in front of his chest. “How’s Bill?”
“He’s fine, except for the gout again. Can’t even walk this time.”
“You two know each other?” Sam asked.
“It’s Cold Springs,” they both said at once.
Sam pulled out another chair. “Okay, well…I was just interviewing. Martha, why don’t you join us and I’ll interview both of you together?”
Sam hadn’t planned on a dual interview, and her heart raced with nerves. She’d never interviewed anyone for anything before. Part of her wondered if they would find her a fraud, and soon the whole county would know she had no clue what she was doing. That all of this was new, all very much out of her league, and she would fail. Fall flat on her face and be known to the people of Cold Springs as the niece who had ruined Jean’s Diner.
Sam squared her shoulders. “Chrissy, this is Martha. Martha, Chrissy. Chrissy was just telling me about her work experience. Martha, how about you?”
“I have been
“Can I get you some coffee?” Sam hoped to ease the poor girl’s discomfort. “Soda? Water?”
“Water would be nice.”
Sam quickly got her a bottle of water. She placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she handed her the bottle.
“Who on earth drinks water this time in the morning?” Burt asked.
“Don’t mind him. He’s…uh…he’s an early customer,” Sam explained. She had a feeling she’d be explaining Burt to a lot of people in the very near future.
“Oh, that’s okay.” Chrissy flashed an infectious smile. “He’s a cutie.”
Burt grinned from ear to ear.
Sam grabbed her notebook off the counter. “Why don’t we sit down and get started?”
Chrissy followed her to the table. “How come your name isn’t Jean?”
“Jean was my aunt.”
Chrissy nodded. “You should name it Sam’s Diner.”
Sam smiled. She’d thought briefly about changing the name. Not to Sam’s Diner but to something trendy involving coffee, but it seemed to be a disservice to all that Aunt Jean had built up. Everything which Sam hoped to carry on. Without her, Sam would still be in New York. Plus Jean had a reputation here. When the people of Cold Springs came here, they expected a hot beverage and a good meal. And lots of it. Sam had no right taking that away.
“So,” she began. “I need to hire a waitress.”
“She’s hired.” Burt strolled over with coffee mug in hand and pulled up a chair. He stared at her cleavage like a dehydrated horse at water. “When can you start?”
“No, Burt. She’s not. Not yet anyway.”
“Well, she looks promising.”
Sam ignored him. “So tell me about your work experience.”
Chrissy rested her arms on the table. “I don’t have any, but I like people. I like talking to them. I like making sure they’re happy. I think everyone should be happy, don’t you?”
“I do,” Burt agreed.
The bell on the door sounded and a woman suddenly came in. Middle fifties, maybe early sixties, she was close to six feet tall and built like an oak tree. Gray-brown hair was pinned in a sixties era beehive. She wore white scrubs and a white smock, buttoned to the neck. Shoes were something nurses—or waitresses—wore for comfort when working a double shift.
“Hi.” Sam stood. “May I help you?”
The woman crossed the room in three easy strides. “Martha Simms. I’m applying for the waitress position.”
Chrissy had been the first to response to her newspaper ad. Sam had simply put a phone number, no address or location. “How did you find the address?”
“This is Cold Springs. It wasn’t too hard to figure out.”
“Martha.” Burt crossed his arms in front of his chest. “How’s Bill?”
“He’s fine, except for the gout again. Can’t even walk this time.”
“You two know each other?” Sam asked.
“It’s Cold Springs,” they both said at once.
Sam pulled out another chair. “Okay, well…I was just interviewing. Martha, why don’t you join us and I’ll interview both of you together?”
Sam hadn’t planned on a dual interview, and her heart raced with nerves. She’d never interviewed anyone for anything before. Part of her wondered if they would find her a fraud, and soon the whole county would know she had no clue what she was doing. That all of this was new, all very much out of her league, and she would fail. Fall flat on her face and be known to the people of Cold Springs as the niece who had ruined Jean’s Diner.
Sam squared her shoulders. “Chrissy, this is Martha. Martha, Chrissy. Chrissy was just telling me about her work experience. Martha, how about you?”
“I have been