A/N: I'm on a roll and I'll tell you the truth – it's the reviews that encourage me to write more. Yay for reviews! Yay for me putting off making my kid's lunch until midnight so I can write!

Moving on, I wanted to note that the diner in this fic, including its physical layout, is pulled entirely from my memory of a restaurant that I worked at ten years ago. There was even a cook named Fritz that looked like a hippie and drove a VW van. It was the kind of hometown restaurant where almost all of the customers are regulars and the employees get rowdy behind the scenes. Good times.

This chapter's title is oh-so-appropriately taken from the Tori Amos song, "The Waitress." You can find it on her 1994 album Under the Pink.

The next day, I woke later than I'd expected. Despite my 3am interlude, I had thought that my earlier length of sleep would allow me to wake earlier than noon. I had hoped to have a little more time to myself before I headed in to my first day on the job at the diner. Add to that a night of dreams about my mother that I wished I could forget and today was not shaping up to be my day.

Shoot, I realized, as I stood from my bed and stretched. I hadn't even had a chance to tell Charlie that I'd be starting at the diner today. I decided to try him on his cell phone once I was a little more awake.

As I stood in the shower, the water pouring down my back, I contemplated last night's events…and my encounter with Edward Cullen. So far, I knew only a few things about him – he made a popular lasagna, he had pretty quick reflexes, he liked walking around town late at night, he didn't seem to like cigarettes and – I had to be honest with myself – he was pretty damn good-looking. I scrubbed shampoo into my hair and wondered further on this new fascination with him. Our exchange last night had been minimal, but I found him creeping into my thoughts.

There was something about those odd topaz eyes. I wanted to find out more about him.

I cleaned myself, rinsed the shampoo out of my hair and then turned off the water. Wrapping myself in a towel, I went back to my bedroom and dried off. I dressed in some comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt, then headed downstairs to the kitchen. Taped to the fridge was a note from Charlie.

Bella, I didn't want to wake you, but I heard the news from Jan that you're starting at the diner today. I'll stop in for dinner tonight, if you don't mind serving your old man.

Charlie

I smiled. I should have known that news would travel fast in a small town; it looked like I wouldn't have to bother Charlie on his cell phone after all. Contented by this thought, I rummaged in the cupboards until I had the fixings to make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I made a mental note, especially when I realized that we were out of milk (a necessity with any PB&J), that I would need to head to the grocery store sooner than later.

My sandwich in hand, I sat down at Charlie's computer and booted it up. Once the steam engines were down to a dull roar, I logged onto the internet and opened my email. Amid the spam, there was a new email from Phil. My finger hesitated on the mouse, the cursor hovering on the "open" button. I wanted to know how Phil was doing, yes, but I struggled with the desire to keep my eyes dry today. In the end, my need to hear from him won out.

Bella:

Thank you for the email update, I really appreciated it. I'm not sure why you haven't called, but I'm sure that you're just getting settled into your dad's place. Don't think that you can't chat on the phone with an old, sad man. I miss hearing your voice. It's very quiet around here.

I haven't been doing much, mostly just puttering around the house and trying not to think about things too much. I haven't given much thought to playing ball anytime soon. The team seems to be doing well without me, so I might just take off as much time as I can. I like being here at the house, even if it is so empty.

I miss your mom a lot, kiddo. I can't even begin to pretend that I don't. It feels like everything I had was ripped from me and I'm not always doing too well. I try to keep busy in the yard, keeping up that garden that Renee tried to start last spring. Remember that thing? She was so excited about it, then it turned into a mess of weeds as soon as she moved on to another hobby. I saw some of the little flowers sprouting up out of the ground, though, so I'm trying to revive it. Might even plant some vegetables to see if they can survive in this heat.

Otherwise, it's been pretty boring around here. When do you start your new job? Met any nice people up there? I hope that you're making friends quick and I bet getting out and working will help with that.

All right, I won't take up any more of your time. I'm sure you have a lot of better things to do than sit around and read about what this old guy is doing. Give me a call soon.

Phil

This time, when I was done with the email, I knew that I was crying. The tears were not silent this time.

Phil's sadness practically leapt off the screen at me. I knew it wasn't his intent, but I suddenly felt tremendously guilty for leaving him all alone in Phoenix. I had hoped that he'd get back to playing ball right away, that it would take his mind off of things and get him back among his friends again. That didn't seem to be the case and now I felt for assuming that he'd be all right without me.

Hiccupping with sobs, I stood from the computer desk and picked up my forgotten sandwich. I chucked it into the trash can underneath the sink and filled a glass with water. I took a long drink from it, then placed both my palms on the edge of the counter, as though to hold me up. My head sank until, it too, rested on the cool countertop.

I stood there like that for what seemed an eternity, sobbing.

I had left him all alone.

* * * * * * * * * *

Once my theatrical waterworks had subsided, I glumly made my way to my room, noticing that it was nearing 1:30pm. It was only a short drive to the diner, but I wanted to be a bit early if at all possible. I pulled out a pair of black pants and a white polo shirt, like Jan had advised. I was glad that I had each item in my possession – I hadn't explored enough of the town yet to know if there was even a place to buy clothing. I wrapped the waitress apron, a half an apron with large pockets, around my waist and then pulled my hair into a tight ponytail at the back of my head. I was never one for too much makeup, but I figured that I should at least take some precautions to look presentable.

In the mirror, my face betrayed the crying session I'd had. My eyes were puffy and red, my cheeks ruddy with the heat emanating from the effort I'd made while sobbing. I rubbed moisturizer on my face, hoping that the cool aloe lotion would help negate the reddish affect. After a brief sweep of eye shadow and lip gloss, the later which I placed in one of my apron pockets for later applications, I declared myself fit for the first day on the job.

* * * * * * * * * *

I walked in the front door of the diner at five minutes to two. Jan was busy looking over a stack of receipts at the register near the door, but looked up as I entered and smiled a cheerful grin.

"Right on time!" she exclaimed, putting down the receipts and coming out to circle her arm around my shoulders. "Come on back, I'll show you where to punch in."

Like the day before, the diner was relatively empty – save for a middle-aged man hunched over a newspaper and a cup of coffee. Jan led me through the tables, behind the waitress station and then through the door leading to the kitchen. I was surprised to see that the kitchen was empty.

"Where's the cook?" I asked.

Jan waved a hand. "Oh, we're switching shifts right now. Fritz, the morning cook, is out back having a smoke and telling Edward how the day went."

I nodded. Jan led me towards an old-looking punch clock at the back of the kitchen, next to what I assumed was the walk-in fridge. Next to the clock was a long metal timecard holder. She picked out one near the top that had my name written on it.

"Simplest thing you'll learn today," she said. She fed the card into the clock and we both listened to the ka-chunk as the current time and date was stamped on it. She put the timecard back in the slot at the top of the rack. Then she led me toward the back doors. The main door was propped open by a large rock, leaving the screen door between us and the back parking lot. Through the screen, I could see three figures forming a semi-circle.

"Hey, kids," Jan said as she swung open the screen door. "Here's our new gal!"

The three figures turned and I saw that they were Jessica, Edward and a man in his forties that I assumed must be Fritz. He reminded me of the hippies in video clips from the 60's, with his long dirty blond hair tied neatly into a long ponytail at the nape of his neck. His white cook's apron was dirty with food stains. Cigarettes dangled from his and Jessica's hands, but not from Edward's.

As Jessica bounded up to me to greet me with a hug, I saw Edward smile at me before he turned his attention back to Fritz. They seemed to be discussing the popularity of this morning's breakfast special, as well as the impact something like that might have on the ingredients left for the evening shift. I felt as though Edward's eyes were following me, even as he conversed with Fritz. I felt my face redden involuntarily.

"Bella!" Jessica said, detaching herself from the hug. "Are you ready for your first day? I have so much to show you – today is just going to fly by!" She grabbed me by the hand and dragged me back towards the restaurant. She flicked her cigarette out onto the ground and swung open the screen door, never letting go of my hand.

I guessed that I was as ready as I'd ever be.

* * * * * * * * * *

Jessica was right, it turned out, and the time did fly by. By the time she'd finished showing me the duties behind the waitress station – making coffee and putting together simple salads, soups, breads and cereals – and had given me a thorough run-through on working the register and credit card machine, the dinner rush had started to trickle in. Tonight's special was Jan's Pot Roast, which Jessica claimed was nearly as popular as Edward's Lasagna.

As the four o'clock hour passed and more people came in for dinner, I was inclined to believe her. I also wondered what in the world this place would look like on the Edward's Lasagna nights – as it was, every seat in the diner was full, with a few patient customers waiting near the front door for the first available table. Once the rush got going, I acted as a back-up busser to Jessica, following her around to the tables with drink refills and extra napkins, fetching booster seats and high chairs, cleaning up spills and collecting checks to take to Jan, who busied herself both at the register and assisting Edward in the kitchen. Another cook had joined the crew at 4pm, but I hadn't had a moment to catch his name. He seemed to be acting as a back-up to Edward in the same manner that I was doing the same for Jessica.

I'd be lying if I pretended that the entire dinner rush went flawlessly. I fell down. Three times. Each time, I nearly took out a customer. Once, I dropped an entire pot of coffee on the floor with me. Thankfully, Jessica had a good enough humor about it, as did the customers. A few of them jumped up to help me. On one of my passes through the kitchen, during my third or fourth near-fall, I know that I heard Edward chuckle.

It was nearly 8pm before the steady stream of customers slowed down to a more comfortable dribble. I was wiping down tables while Jessica cleared dishes when Charlie arrived. He chose not to wait to be seated – just grabbed a menu from next to the register and came right over to me.

"Hey there!" he said, grinning. He looked at me with wondering eyes. "Busy night?"

I blew a stray hair out of my face. I was going to need to brush my hair and straighten my ponytail soon, before I looked like a bag lady. "Definitely. You picked a good time to come in. Take a seat."

Charlie smiled again and it was infectious this time. I grabbed a pot of coffee and a clean mug, then headed back to where Charlie sat. I poured him a cup of coffee and he set his menu aside. Jan bustled over to us.

"Charlie!" she said. "I just knew you'd stop by on Bella's first night. Here for the pot roast?"

"Sure am, Jan," Charlie replied. "There any newspapers left around here?"

Jan nodded. "Got one in my office. I'll bring it right out."

I left Charlie then, as Jessica waved me over to the kitchen door. She pulled just inside it and let it close against us. I could still see Charlie, over the top of the swinging door. Jan was bringing the newspaper out to him.

"So," Jessica said. "What do you think?"

"It's a great place," I replied. "Busy, but great. I think it'll be a lot of fun waitressing here."

Jessica laughed. "No!" she replied and pointed over the top of the door towards another table. "What do you think?"

I followed her pointing finger and saw a young man seated at the table in question. He was blond and good-looking in the wholesome boy next door kind of way. He was busy shoveling a pile of pot roast into his mouth, so he didn't notice Jessica pointing.

"Um, he's nice-looking, I guess? Why?"

"That's my fiancé Mike," Jessica replied, giggling a little and flashing the tiny diamond ring on her finger. "He just proposed yesterday. We're both going to school in New York together, but we're going to get married next summer and then get our own place near the campus. Isn't that romantic?"

I was momentarily relieved – I had, for a split second, thought that she was trying to hook me up with this Mike guy. "That's fantastic," I said in response. Jessica looked as though she quite literally had stars in her eyes. I dared not question the logistics of their proposed endeavor.

Just then, Mike stood and waved towards the kitchen door where we stood. He flashed a pack of cigarettes and pointed towards the back customer entrance. Jessica bounced up and down.

"Do you mind?" she asked. "I'll be back in a jiff. You can handle the customers we've got left, right?"

I looked over the top of the door at the customers left in the restaurant: Charlie was standing up and heading towards the men's room and Mike was leaving with Jessica, leaving only one older couple eating pie, a woman reading a book and sipping tea and the same middle-aged man hunched over coffee and a newspaper. Jan was disappearing into her office near the cash register.

"Sure thing," I said, patting Jessica on the back. "Go on, get out of here. You deserve a break." Jessica giggled and scooted out the door in a flash.

Behind me, I heard a cough. When I had come in with Jessica, Edward had been methodically cleaning the grill with large cloths and some kind of scraping tool. Now he was leaning against the prep counter next to me, his apron dirty and his smile crooked. Again with the crooked smile, I thought. It'd be the death of me.

"So," he started, before he was cut off by a noise from the dining room.

"WAITRESS!" the middle-aged man was shouting. The other diners had turned to look at the man, then looked expectantly towards the kitchen door. I smiled apologetically to Edward and pushed quickly through the door.

"Hi, sir," I said as I approached his table. "What can I do for you?"

The man lifted his head from his hunched position and looked me in the eye. "My coffee cup is empty. Fix it."

I was startled by his abrupt tone, but turned around to the waitress station to grab a coffee pot. Sure enough, it was empty – I'd poured the last of it into Charlie's cup. I started up a fresh pot and returned to the man's table.

"It'll just be a few moments while a fresh pot brews," I told the man. "Can I get you anything else in the meantime?"

The man stared at me. "What did you say?" He sounded incredulous.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" I repeated.

"No, about the coffee. YOU RAN OUT OF COFFEE?!" Now the man was nearly shouting. The other diner patrons looked towards me sympathetically, but no one said a word.

"I'm very sorry, but it'll only be a few minutes," I replied, my voice shaking a bit.

"That's just not goddamned good enough!" the man said angrily, pounding his fist on the table. The silverware next to him rattled. As he spoke more, I could smell alcohol on his breath. Whiskey, to be exact.

"I, uh, I," I stammered.

The man stood, holding onto the table for balance. He put his face as close to mine as possible – I could feel the whiskey-baited heat of his breath on my cheeks. "I. WANT. MY. COFFEE. NOW."

I was trembling as I prepared my response, trying to steel my reserve and muster up some courage. Before I could even open my mouth, a pair of hands came between us. Edward shoved the man away from me and back into his seat at the table.

"Bella," Edward said sternly. "Move."

I obliged him. Edward picked the man up by his collar and shoved him towards the door.

"Picking on the ladies again, Pat?" he said to the man. "Maybe you wouldn't need so much coffee if you weren't drinking whiskey like it were water."

"Oh screw you, prettyboy," Pat replied. "And get your damn hands offa me."

"Blow it out your ass, wino," Edward said. He shoved open the front door. "Now get the hell out of here before I get Chief Swan out of the john."

Pat stumbled off into the darkness, flipping Edward the finger in the process. Edward wiped his hands on his apron and came back into the restaurant. Ahead of him, I pushed through the kitchen door and was away from prying eyes for a moment until Edward followed me.

"You all right?" he asked, sizing me up. He grabbed one of my shaking hands and steadied it in his own.

The affect was electrifying. I suddenly felt as though a live current were coursing through my veins, buzzing audibly between myself and this tantalizing creature in front of me. I looked up from our hands to his face, wondering if he felt it too. His eyes were amused, looking at me, but he didn't let go of my hand.

He put his other hand on my shoulder. The same reaction came over me, as though his touch were simply turning on every invisible switch in my body. I tried to speak, but no words came out. I smiled at him instead, which prompted another one of those heart melting smiles to creep onto his face.

"Yeah," I finally croaked out. "I think I'm fine. Who was that guy and what's his damage?"

Edward removed his hands from my hand and shoulder, seemingly convinced that I was no longer about to fall over. (Again.) "For lack of a better term," he replied, "Pat is the town drunk. Ask your dad about him – he's been in the city lockup more times than anyone around here cares to count."

I nodded.

"So, hey," Edward said. "About that walk I mentioned. Are you going to be too tired to join me tonight?"

"I don't think so," I replied. "Do you have a designated rendezvous point?"

Edward laughed. If gold velvet was real and could be a sound, that would be the sound of Edward's laugh. "I'll meet you at your place again. 2am?"

I smiled and nodded. "Cool beans," I replied. "Just hope I don't fall down too much. You might have to spend your time picking me up."

Edward shrugged. "It sure beats the alternative."

"What's that?"

"Bringing home the police chief's daughter with a broken leg or a mangled arm."

"How in the world would I get a mangled arm?"

"Bear attack? If you fall down enough, they're going to see you as easy prey."

I playfully slapped Edward on the arm. He mock fell to the ground, holding onto the counter as he went.

"2am, Cullen," I said, pushing my way back through the door to the dining room as I saw Charlie return to his table.

"I'll bring my bear spray," he replied.