It's déjà vu. Laura sits in a booth at the diner across from their loft, the exact same booth she sat in after she had abruptly broken up with Bill and was waiting to speak with him after his trip from Picon. The same booth where they had both finally admitted they loved each other. The same booth where her life changed significantly for the better. That booth.
A cup of lemon tea sits before her, and she fidgets nervously waiting for Jean to arrive. This time she tells herself it's okay to cry.
Jean has always stood up for her and stood beside her, even during the lowest points of her life. Jean didn't let Richard scare her away. She was there for her when her mother was put into home hospice. She watched after her at the bar each night where she went to escape from it all and to work on her dissertation. Then Jean relayed a message from Bill, and eventually gave him her contact information. Kicked her in the ass when she broke up with him but gave her a place to stay and some tough love to boot. Stayed in touch with both her father and Bill during that time to let them know she was surviving. Didn't make a fuss when she suddenly moved out. Recorded Richard exposing himself to her and coming onto her at the graduation party. Stood next to her on her wedding day. The woman is a rock and Laura needed her strength time and again, but Jean never accused her of taking advantage of her.
But that didn't stop Laura from turning on her in a very uncomfortable, personal way. If Jean never wanted to see her again, she would understand that. Yet somehow, Jean has found it in herself to agree to meet with her the Wednesday after Laura's confrontation. Maybe Jean's going to tell her off. She would take that. Maybe she's going to punch her in the face. She would probably take that, too. Maybe she will look at her with deep disappointment and tell her she never wants to see her again, then walk away. That would be tough. Laura would rather be screamed at and called every derogatory name imaginable than have her best friend walk out of her life forever.
A lump forms in her throat when she sees her friend enter the diner, standing at the counter and placing an order for coffee. Apologize. Do it a hundred times, whatever it takes. Beg her forgiveness. Jean didn't deserve any of the crap she dished out and she needs to know that. With the cup in her hand, she's slowly walking towards the booth.
Laura stands, her mouth moving but no intelligible words coming from it. After setting her cup on the table, Jean speaks first. "I'm sorry I teased you about my crush on your dad. I never should have done that."
What?! She can't possibly think this is her fault.
"Jean, no! Oh, my Gods – this is all on me!"
"But if I wouldn't have teased you, you probably wouldn't have reacted the way you did," she replies, her face filled with guilt.
"You can't think like that. I'm to blame. Me - only me. Please listen to me. You are NOT responsible for what happened. I am so sorry - you can't even believe how sorry I am. I love you. I don't want to lose you. You're the best friend I've ever had. I can't stand the thought of you thinking this is somehow your fault."
"Laura, I've felt lousy ever since Friday night. Bill and Sandra explained what happened, but I still think I'm at least partly to blame," Jean says setting her purse down on the table next to her cup of coffee.
"No, you aren't. I was way out of line. I jumped to conclusions when I should have been talking to you. I don't have an explanation why I shut down like that. I'm sorry," she repeats, pulling her friend into a hug. "I'm sorry. Please, you have to know this isn't your fault."
Jean's arms pull Laura closer to her as she mumbles "You know I love you. I told you that at dinner after your honeymoon. I meant it."
"I know. Please sit with me. Let's talk."
After more cups of tea and coffee and two pieces of pie, an hour has passed and Jean and Laura are chatting about their jobs, talking about pregnancy, and acting more like the longtime friends that they've been for over a decade.
"Are we going to be okay?" Laura suddenly asks.
"I think so," Jean replies confidently. "The main thing is we need to communicate. If something's bothering you, please talk to me, and I'll do the same."
Laura sighs and purses her lips together. "There is something else bothering me."
"What is it?" Jean asks, an alarmed look on her face.
"When do I get to meet this new boyfriend of yours?"
"Is there a reason you're taking us out to eat tonight?" Sandra asks her father, who is busy adjusting his shirt collar and fixing his hair in the mirror in the foyer.
"We're all on break, I'm in a good mood, and I think Tauron noodles sound fantastic this evening," he replies, finally satisfied that he looks presentable enough to take his two youngest daughters out.
"From the way you're fussing over your appearance, I'm just wondering if you might be introducing us to someone tonight?" Sandra probes, never having seen her father worry so much about how he looks.
"Well, maybe…"
"Really?!"
"Oh, yeah. I have eight women meeting us at the restaurant tonight. You can spend some time with them and tell me which one you like the best."
"We get to pick our new mommy tonight!" Cheryl exclaims.
"Ah! Nuh-uh! Daadddd, that's not funny," Sandra grouses, realizing she's the butt of her father's joke.
"Your sister and I thought it was," he says, giving Cheryl a high-five. "We should get going. Jeff's meeting us there in twenty minutes."
"What?! I'm staying home. Just bring me some leftovers."
Cheryl's giggle gives her father away, who smirks at his middle child.
"Gods! Why are both of you being so mean to me tonight? Wait, he's not actually going to be there, right?"
"You'll just have to come with and find out," her father teases, wanting to keep her guessing. "Now, get your jacket and your license. Do you have the book, Cheryl?"
Dave lets Sandra drive to the restaurant despite the time crunch. She had passed her licensing exam on the first try earlier in the week and this is his reward for her working hard to improve her driving skills, plus learning to drive under a little bit of pressure is a good test for her. She succeeds with flying colors, getting to the restaurant in a timely manner without speeding. Cheryl claps in appreciation that her sister has finally learned to go the speed limit rather than ten miles per hour under it.
JJ has their favorite table reserved and when Dave asks if she can join them, she declines because they are expecting a full house within the hour.
"Can I speak with you privately before you get so busy?" he asks.
She leads him to her office where he pulls a copy of his book out of a bag that Cheryl was carrying with her.
"I'd like for you to have an advance copy. Thought you might be interested, given our discussion about Tauron history a few months ago," he explains.
"This does look interesting!" she exclaims, flipping to the inside cover and reading it quickly. "Are you going to show me the sexy side of history?"
"That's the idea," he replies, grinning from ear to ear. "If you get a chance to read it, let me know what you think."
"I will, I promise," she says turning the book over and staring at his photo on the back cover. She glances at him, then back at the photo. "Did you choose this picture or did one of your girls?"
"I chose it. Jean thought I should go with the one in my suit, but I decided I didn't want to look so academic. Why?"
There's a pause as she carefully mulls over her response. "It's proof that there's a sexy side to history. If I don't get around to reading it, I can at least use it to keep me warm at night."
The boldness of her words catches him off guard. "Are you flirting with me?"
Her eyes soften at his question before she steps toward him. "Honey, if you have to ask, then it means I'm not doing a very good job." She straightens his collar, then places her hand against his chest. "That's better. Now, get back to your girls."
His eyes search hers for a few seconds, expecting her to laugh, shrug off her comment, or make a joke out of it. But she doesn't do any of those things. She stares right back at him like she's expecting him to say something.
"I, um, I should get back to Sandra and Cheryl," he finally says.
JJ nods her head in agreement, her eyes still holding his in a mysterious gaze. "Then I'll get back to work."
When he turns to leave, she stops him as he opens the door to her office. "And Dave? Thank you for the book. I'll read it and let you know what I think."
Just as he rejoins his daughters at their table, a large crowd of patrons enters the restaurant. He can see from the look on JJs face that this group of around two dozen people does not have reservations. She speaks with them for several minutes, then sends some of her employees to the outside deck, which has been closed for the season since the weather has turned cold. Tonight, however, it is rather mild, and he watches as they pull some portable gas heaters from underneath canvas storage bags and begin to clean and prepare tables for guests. As they are doing that, two more parties of patrons appear, one with five guests and the other with six.
"Girls, we need to finish up. JJ needs our table," Dave says.
They quickly finish their bowls of noodles and head to the exit.
"Sweetie, I'm not even going to argue with you tonight," JJ says as she rings Dave's bill up at the register, giving him a big discount. "We are going to be slammed. Hopefully I can call in some extra workers because I wasn't expecting to open the balcony."
"Is there any way I can help?" he asks.
"Not unless you wanna put on an apron and bus some tables, hun. But thanks for the offer," she replies, placing a hand on his forearm. "Have a good night."
As they make their way through the parking lot to the car, Dave notices that it's already full and people are beginning to park on the street, walking up to a block to the restaurant.
"Sandra," he says placing his arms on her shoulders to face him. "Would you feel comfortable driving you and Cheryl home without me?"
"Uhh, yeah, I think I can do that. Why?"
"JJ needs help tonight so I'm going to stay. Just drive straight home, and text me when you get there, okay? Are you okay with that Cheryl?"
Cheryl nods her head while Sandra takes the keys from him and agrees to text him once they arrive home safely.
"Daddy? Thanks for trusting me," she calls out the window before driving away.
"Where can I get an apron?" Dave asks JJ who is rushing past him to get some drinks from the bar.
"What? Are you serious?" she asks stepping around him and behind the bar where she goes to work mixing some cocktails.
"Yes, I'm serious. I need an apron."
"Honey, I was kidding. You can't work here without a food handlers permit and I'm betting you don't have one."
He hadn't thought of that. "I won't handle food. Let me bus tables, wash dishes, clean restrooms, whatever you need me to do. I don't need a permit for that, right?"
She pulls him behind the bar with her and out of earshot of several customers. "What do you want from me?" she asks in an accusatory tone.
The troubled look in her eyes makes him wonder if she's misinterpreting his offer of help. "I'm here to help out a friend. That's all. I don't expect anything in return, except, well… except for maybe a ride later. Sandra took the car home with Cheryl."
"Alright," she says slowly. "I definitely could use some help, but I'll warn you, I can be tough to work for. There's an extra apron in the kitchen. Next to it are the bussing kits. After you clear the table, make sure you wipe it down, spray it with sanitizer, then wipe it down again. Clean up the floor around the table if you see any spills or crumbs. And check the seats of the chairs. Half the time they need to be wiped down, too, especially if children were seated at the table. Got all that?"
"Yes, ma'am. I am your substitute busboy tonight."
"And keep up. This is going to get a lot busier. Don't be surprised if we're here until well after midnight. Check the bathrooms every half hour and make sure sinks, toilets, and urinals are wiped down, and restock toilet paper, paper towels, and soap. All of that stuff can be found in my office on the shelves in the corner. Brooms and mops are in the opposite corner. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I'm stuck here since Sandra took the car. Might as well make myself useful."
"I may need you to wash dishes if I can't get ahold of my regular washer. He has the night off and he's not picking up and my other one is S-L-O-W. So if you can keep on eye on how things are stacking up after you bus the tables, I would appreciate it. Sorry you came back?"
"Nope. I'm here for you."
Over the next six hours, Dave works harder than he's worked in months. There isn't any time for a break, and he only uses the restroom if he's going to clean it. He quickly catches on to a system of organizing dishes in the dish bucket he uses to bus the tables and then depositing them by the guy washing dishes, which helps him work a little faster than usual. Occasionally he stops to help wash while the dish washer puts the clean dishes away for the kitchen to use to plate food. He cleans up no fewer than six spills in the dining area, mops most of the floor twice, and finds himself drenched in sweat from being on his feet and scurrying from place to place. Occasionally he catches a glimpse of JJ who is happily talking to customers, mixing drinks, waiting on tables, seating people, and running the register. How she can stay that upbeat the entire time is a mystery to him because he is dead tired halfway through the evening but it's clear she thrives off how busy the place is.
The restaurant closes at 10 p.m. and the final customers leave shortly before 11 p.m. JJ lets the kitchen staff go home first after they have cleaned the kitchen area, then the wait staff after the tables are all bussed and ready for the next business day, and finally the dish washer once he finishes and puts everything away. Dave cleans the restrooms, mops all the floors one final time, then finds JJ on the balcony smoking a cigarette.
It's past midnight and noticeably cooler outside. The portable gas heaters have been turned off but have to cool down before they can be covered back up and stowed away. She stands in her bare feet at the railing looking toward the pond.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you smoking's bad for you?" Dave asks when he joins her at the railing.
"I don't really smoke. Just when I have an incredibly busy night like tonight, then I'll have one or two afterwards to unwind."
He takes the cigarette from her hand. She expects him to extinguish it and toss it in the bin, especially since she knows from Bill that Dave and Betty used to smoke and it's likely that is what caused his wife's cancer. But instead of disposing of the cigarette, Dave takes a long drag, then hands it back to her.
"Aren't we full of surprises tonight," she comments before taking her own drag and handing it back to him.
"I figure if I split it with you, half a cigarette won't do much harm," he shrugs as she leans back against the railing watching him exhale the smoke from his nose.
"Except I'm probably going to light another, and two halves make a whole."
"I'll let you get away with it this one time."
"Oh, well, thank you, Dr. Roslin. I feel so much better now," she snorts with a playful grin.
"Back to Dr. Roslin now? You really are tough."
"You did a great job tonight. If you hadn't come back, we wouldn't have kept up. Sure you don't want to quit that crummy university job and come to work for me and have a glamorous career as a busboy?" she teases while leaning her head from side to side attempting to pop her neck.
"Do you offer benefits?"
She stops her neck adjustment and glances at him from the corner of her eye. "David Roslin, are you flirting with me?"
"If you have to ask-"
"-then you aren't doing a very good job, I get it," she chuckles. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier."
"You mean when you were questioning my motivation to help or when you flirted with me, and I handled it awkwardly?"
"Both. And I owe you explanations for both, so I hope you're ready."
"This calls for another cigarette. Gotta light?" he asks, reaching for a smoke from the pack resting on the railing. She flicks open an old fashioned lighter and lights the cigarette now dangling from his lips. He takes a long drag before offering it to her, and she does the same, then hands it back. "Now I'm ready."
"I was suspicious of you because my ex-husband never wanted to help me out with this. The few times that he did, he expected something in return. Something expensive. And if he didn't get it, he could be extremely passive-aggressive about it. So when the man that I had recently flirted with suddenly offered to help me, I became suspicious. I have to keep reminding myself that there are decent men out there, and you happen to be one of the good ones. I'm sorry I doubted your motivations."
"He didn't like that you had this restaurant, did he?"
"No, not at all. He acted like it was killing him when it started becoming successful. The third year into our marriage was the first year that I made more money than he did, and he seemed wounded. From then on, he refused to help out, didn't really support me in any way. Yet he didn't mind spending the money I made. The kicker is when I filed for divorce, he actually tried to take this place from me in the settlement. He didn't want it, he just wanted to hurt me by taking away something that I loved. Then he said I could still manage it while he owned it, and that he would pay me a reasonable salary."
"Gods, what a jerk. How did you keep from killing him?"
"Wasn't easy. I wound up letting him keep the house and car and paid him a lump sum just so I could hang onto this place and not have to pay him maintenance every month. It was worth it to make him go away. The funny thing is, once he was out of my life, my net income almost doubled because he wasn't spending all my money anymore. I got the better deal. I didn't need the oversized house in the fancy neighborhood, and I certainly didn't need the luxury car. He blew through the settlement money in less than two years and couldn't keep up with the taxes on the house or the car, so he lost it all in bankruptcy. Had the nerve to come to me asking for more money one night. I slammed the door in his face."
Dave can see from her expression that her emotions are still raw over the unpleasant experience. "Can't say I blame you. I wouldn't want to date anyone seriously after that experience, either."
"Hi, my name is JJ and I have trust issues with men because of what my ex-husband did with my money. Nice to meet you," she says extending her hand.
"It's nice to meet you, JJ. My name is Dave and I've completely forgotten how to handle myself when an intelligent, attractive woman with trust issues flirts with me. But…I'm learning, so if she were to try it again, I might do better."
She takes the cigarette from him, inhaling extra-deep this time as she looks him over. Tall, handsome, charming, considerate, intelligent, genuinely kind. "You have no idea how much you're tempting me right now, no idea at all."
"But?"
"But…the truth is…for the past ten minutes I've been reminded how wonderful it is to have a decent man in my life who is a true friend. And I worry that because of my trust issues and that I know you're still working on feeling comfortable dating anyone, a relationship between the two of us could ruin our friendship. I don't think it's worth taking that risk, do you?"
"No, probably not," he quietly agrees, shaking his head. Her candor reminds him of his late wife. She was never one to shy away from sharing her thoughts about things. He always knew where he stood with her, beside her, with her. That's one of the things he misses the most about their relationship and he fears he will never find it with anyone again.
"Or…I could take you to bed with me and you could show me the sexier side of history over and over again," she says stepping into his personal space.
His face freezes until he nervously croaks out, "Um…"
She grimaces when she sees how uncomfortable he is. "I'm teasing you, I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. I'm a horrible person."
"I think I need another cigarette," he exhales, relieved that she was joking this time.
"No, no, no. I'm cutting you off. We need to get these heaters covered and get out of here. Dave, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. You're wonderful, you really are." His frown makes her feel like she pushed her humor too far, and she hangs her head out of embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she repeats.
She's too flustered to look at him until he clears his throat and uses his hand to turn her chin to him. A sly grin adorns his face, and she realizes she's been had. "You're not actually upset, are you?" she asks.
"No," he laughs. "I have three daughters. I've learned to defend myself against jokes."
They spend the next few minutes carefully covering the heaters and sliding them back into place in the corner of the deck. JJ then locks the balcony doors, turns out the lights, and secures the front door.
"I'm parked around back. So, what d'ya say? My place or yours, handsome?" she says, lightly bumping his arm with hers.
"And what would you do if I took you up on that offer?"
Tall, handsome, charming, considerate, intelligent, genuinely kind, and quickly learning to flirt again. And he's also a friend: her friend, a friend of the family, and a friend who could easily get hurt if they aren't careful. She sighs before giving him her answer. "I'm sticking with what I said before - it's not worth risking our friendship. C'mon. I better drop you off at home before I change my mind."