AN: just a quickie - hope you enjoy. I'm moving to Toronto next week and starting my degree so you can imagine things will be getting pretty hectic. Would love to update by next friday but no promises.
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Shelley raced down the sidewalk, legs pumping furiously. The cement beneath her blurred and her breath pulsed out in puffs of white vapour. The wind caught her tousled and waved hair, whipping it into her face. But at her pace she barely noticed.
Late, late, late she chided herself, kicking up her speed as she heard the church bells chime quarter past.
But oh so very worth it, she thought smugly, as she rounded the final corner and the diner burst into sight.
She swung through the door at top speed.
"Sorry! Sorry, sorry sorry!" She shouted, shrugging out of her coat and looping it's collar over one of the pegs above the furnace. She'd forgotten mittens and her scarf in her rush and, looking down at her cold-reddened hands, she knew she'd wish she'd thought of them for the walk home.
Behind the counter Barb paused, coffee pot poised over a customer's waiting mug. She cocked an eyebrow, shooting Shelley a look up and down.
"Sorry." Shelley muttered, securing her apron around her waist. Cold fingers knotted the white strings at her back. She pushed her hair, irreparably mussed, back. Shoving her hands into her jean pockets she searched frantically for something - an elastic or clip. She triumphantly snagged one from her back pocket, carefully looping her hair up and away.
"I was… there was traffic." She muttered lamely, snatching up a notebook from the drawer beneath the cash register
"Mmhm." Barb responded evenly.
"Bay Street. Nightmare." She thumbed through the pile of pens , selecting a red bid. Shoving it into the pocket of the apron, she bounced down the counter to a pair of her rather antsy-looking regular.
"Morning Mr. Faber. The usual?" She beamed.
The crowds didn't abate until well into the afternoon. As customers, sated and filled trickled out, more clambered into their vacated booths and stools. At nearly three, with the last of their lunch crowd, straggling out the front door, Shelley heaved a sigh of relief.
Barb emerged from the back, dusting flour-coated hands on her white baker's apron.
"Put your feet up girl." She ordered, striding across the cafe to flip over their 'open' sign.
"Oh I couldn't." Shelley protested.
Barb shot her a steely gaze. "Haven't taken your break yet have you?" She slipped past Shelley to begin to stack the last of the lunch dishes on a wide black tray.
"No. But I was late for work." Shelley said. Not that she wouldn't have minded a good galloon of coffee and a chance to sit down for a minute.
"First time since I hired you too," Barb said, carefully balancing the tray on her hip. "You're a good girl, Shelley. Everyone deserves to live a little. Sit down. I'll pour us some coffee."
"That sounds wonderful." Shelley sighed, easing a hip up on one of the tall leather stools. As Barb scooped fresh ground beans into the drip machine, she started to hum to herself.
"Sounds like somebody had a good time last night." Barb grinned. February 15th - notorious for late employees with rumpled hair and dewy eyes. She fancied herself a mother hen to her girls - and Shelley, well, she sometimes needed a little extra love and attention. A little extra protection - she was still a bit fragile around the edges as far as Barb was concerned. It did her heart good to see Shelley, so reserved lately, gliding down the counter. Cracking jokes with the construction workers, jovially jiving to Mr. Williams motown tunes. Her girl was blooming.
"The best." Shelley responded. Her cheeks flushed with the memory, rosy glow washing her cheeks. She leaned forward, bracing her elbow against the counter. "It was the most amazing… just… everything."
Barb grinned, watching the water bubble through the grinds. She remembered what it was like to be young, in love. To find that person that made you feel whole. The one who had you humming when you didn't even realize it. The one who made your glow and grin to yourself all day. The one you rushed home to at the end of a long shift. The one you lingered with before starting another.
"He's just the most amazing person." He made her feel brilliant. Sexy. Smart. Gorgeous. He made her feel. She mattered to him - he wanted her. How miraculous was that? It had never been like that before. Never that enormous or consuming. She just had such a big need for him, boiling away down in her gut.
Barb silently poured the coffee and slid one across the counter to the grateful Shelley.
"When it's with the right person it matters." Barb smiled wistfully.
Shelley couldn't have said it better herself.