“You ladies ready to order?” asked the waitress, who appeared to be somewhere between Ruth’s age and Bethanne’s. She stepped up to their table, pad and pen in hand.
“I’d like French toast,” Annie said, and gave the woman her menu.
“One poached egg on dry wheat,” Ruth said.
“Max.” Bethanne closed the menu and held it out to the waitress—and found three women staring at her. “What?” she asked, not understanding why her scrambled eggs had elicited all this attention.
“There’s no Max on the menu,” the waitress said, grinning.
“I said Max?” Bethanne asked, startled to realize she deserved the looks Annie and Ruth were sending her.
The waitress continued to grin. “I guess one of you ladies is missing her man.”
“My mother is not missing that…biker,” Annie snapped.
Ruth refused to meet her eyes.
Bethanne’s hand tightened on the menu. “Would you both feel better if I said Grant’s name?” The answer was obvious. Then, glancing at the waitress, she said, “Grant is my ex-husband.”
“But he wants to get back together with my mom,” Annie explained.
“My son was an idiot, but he’s regained his sanity just in time for my daughter-in-law to lose hers,” Ruth said in a disgruntled voice.
The waitress stood there, holding the pad and pen, her gaze wandering from one to the other. “Ladies, I’m no Dr. Laura. All I do around here is take orders and fill coffee cups. If you want advice, I suggest you turn on the radio.”
“I’ll have a latte.” Bethanne decided to forgo the scrambled eggs, as her appetite was gone.
The waitress wrote down the order, hesitated a moment and then slid into the booth next to Bethanne. “You really should have some protein for breakfast.”
“All I want is a latte.”
“You got man problems, don’t you, sweetie?” she said, ignoring both Ruth and Annie. “I don’t normally get involved with customers but I’ve been married a time or two myself, and it seems to me it takes a real man to admit when he’s wrong.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t happen often.”
“I keep trying to tell Mom that,” Annie insisted.
“Did this ex-husband of yours drink too much?” she asked.
“No,” Bethanne said.
“He didn’t slap you around, did he?”
“No!”
“Chase skirts?”
“Just the once.” It was Annie who answered. “And that was a big mistake.”
“It always is,” the waitress said. “Half the time men’s brains are located below their belt buckles. Eventually they come to their senses but by then it’s usually too late.”
“Eunice.” The cook stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Are you fraternizing with the customers again?”
Eunice rolled her eyes. “If I don’t watch myself I’m going to lose this job.” She hurried toward the kitchen and put their order on a hanging circular device for the cook to grab.
“What a sweetheart,” Ruth murmured.
“Wise, too,” Annie said pointedly.
“I can tell Eunice has been around the block a couple of times and found her way home,” Ruth said. “I’m leaving her an extra-big tip.”
Bethanne felt embarrassed about having her personal situation aired in front of a stranger, no matter how sympathetic, and furious at her daughter and mother-in-law. And yet… She’d begun to think they were right. Regardless of her infatuation with Max, she felt she had to give her ex-husband an honest chance. She had to give their relationship an honest chance, and she couldn’t do that with Max hovering in the background.
Five minutes later, Eunice returned with their breakfast order. Lost in her thoughts, Bethanne sipped her latte. Thankfully, neither Annie nor Ruth appeared to notice how distracted she was.
When she saw Max the night before last, she’d told him she’d call after the wedding. But it wouldn’t be fair to keep him waiting and guessing. The only decent thing to do was call him now and explain that she wouldn’t be contacting him in the future.
Bethanne slid out of her booth and headed for the door.
“Mom?” her daughter asked. “Where are you going?”
“I need to make a phone call” was all she was willing to tell either Annie or Ruth.
Standing in the parking lot, Bethanne took out her cell phone. Max had programmed in his number and she hit speed dial, knowing she was about to do something irrevocable. She felt regretful, but relieved, too. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the rental car and silently prayed he’d answer.
He picked up on the third ring, but at the sound of his voice, she suddenly couldn’t speak.
“Hello,” he said again.
After a long moment, his voice softened. “Is that you, Bethanne?”
“Yes.”
He waited for her to continue.
“I won’t be calling you.” Then, because she owed him an explanation, she rushed to say, “I’m truly sorry, but I’ve made my decision.”
Her announcement was met with stark silence.
“Did you hear me?” she asked.
“I heard you.” Silence again.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” she demanded.
“You’re going back to Grant?”
“Yes…”
“Your final decision?”