She Loves You, She Loves You Not... by Julie Anne Peters Page A

hers drop. “I didn’t mean that to come out the way it did. I just meant everyone knows Carly.” Finn ducks her head and disappears into the restroom, leaving me to ponder the statement. It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone. Or… they know who she is by
what
she is.
    I find the detergent and start the dishwasher. When Finn comes out, she’s changed into a faded tank. I love the definition of her arm muscles.
    “I’ve got to get to work at the book swap,” Finn says. “You okay here alone?”
    Arlo’s van pulls out of the lot, and I panic.
    Finn stuffs her Egg Drop tee into her ratty backpack. “Just set the tables for tomorrow and then lock the doors.”
    I trail her to the rear exit. “Isn’t there a security system or something?”
    Finn says, “If anyone broke into this place and stole something, there’d be a riot in town. Anyway, Arlo will be back. He lives here.”
    “At the restaurant?”
    She saunters through the dirt parking lot, straps on her backpack, loops a leg over a mountain bike, and pedals off like a speed racer.
    There’s a door marked PRIVATE , and I think,
I’ll just check it out—
you know, for interest’s sake. It’s not locked. I flip on the light and see a double bed, made up with old flowered sheets and a folded fleece blanket. A closet. The closet bar’s been lowered so Arlo can reach the hangers. Bars and pulleys, like exercise equipment. A small TV. Through another door there’s a wheelchair-accessible tub and shower. The front bell tinkles, and I close the door fast.
    It’s that old cowboy dude. “We’re closed,” I call out to him.
    “I figgered. I was in town and thought I’d come by to shoot the bull with Arlo.”
    “He’s not here right now. He should be back soon.”
    “You his new girl?” He removes his cowboy hat and flaps it against his thigh, raising a cloud of dust.
    I’m nobody’s
girl
. He means waitress, I think. He seems nice.
    I push through the swinging doors. “Yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, sir.” I wait for him to say it—
blah, blah Carly’s girl
. When he doesn’t, I introduce myself. “I’m Alyssa.”
    “Dutch.” He extends a hand, so I walk up to him and shake it.
    His hand is bony, with age spots, like my grandpa’s. Paper-thin skin. “If you want to wait…”
    “Don’t mind if I do.” He takes a seat at the window table. “If you got some sludge and fudge, I’ll take it off yer hands,” he says. A moment passes, and he chuckles. “Coffee and a chocolate doughnut.”
    “Oh.” I must be perfecting the art of the clueless expression. I think,
I’ll have to tell Ben that one—sludge and fudge.
Immediately I snuff the thought.
    We have one chocolate doughnut left and half a pot of coffee. “Is decaf okay?” I ask him.
    “Better’n okay,” he says.
    I serve Dutch his order. “Thankee, little lady.” He smiles and the crow’s-feet around his eyes remind me of Grandpa too. I head back to the kitchen, wondering if I’ll ever see Grandpa and Grandma again; if being disowned means giving up everyone I love.
    “You.”
    I jump out of my skin. Arlo’s sneaked up behind me in the kitchen.
    “Fill in on the schedule what days you can work.” He hands me the clipboard from the wall. “No more’n four days.”
    “That’s all?”
    “Howdy, Dutch,” he calls through the swinging doors.
    Dutch lifts his coffee mug at Arlo.
    Arlo says, “Be right out.” He cranks up the fan and goes, “Can you feel that?”
    The fan blasts hot air in my face, but it’s a relief. “Yeah. Thanks.”
    Arlo takes a stroll around the kitchen, humming. He’s chipper, for once.
    “What happened?” I say. “Did you just get laid?”
    Arlo widens his eyes at me. Then cracks up. “I like you.” He wags a finger at me. He rolls to a stop at the dishwasher and adds, “Go home. I’ll finish up.”
    I want to ask him about the chair, about Carly. But I don’t want to push my luck, and right now it feels good to have someone actually