“Hey there,” he said. “You like pancakes?”
She nodded.
“Want to see how we make them?”
She nodded again.
Gus brought her inside and set her on a stool at the end of the counter.
Then he made her a pancake shaped like Mickey Mouse, with chocolate chips for eyes.
When he finished, he turned to me.
“You start tomorrow at six. Bring your little girl. She can sit here until the school bus comes. Doris will keep an eye on her.”
I started crying.
Gus handed me a napkin.
“Save the tears,” he grumbled. “Coffee costs forty cents. Learn how to pour it without spilling.”
That was how my life at Gus’s began.
And for the next thirty-eight years, I rarely missed a morning.
***
People think waitressing is about carrying plates and remembering orders.
But in a small town, the job becomes something else.
You learn people’s lives.
