“I do the voice,” Denise said. “I am trying to hear it as often as you do.”
They ate the rest of the pie without turning it into a ceremony. Emily’s break ended the way breaks end, by the sight of Glenn struggling with a tray that had been stacked by optimism. She stood. The apron fell back into its working shape. Before she left the booth she looked once more at the worksheet, at the column of checks, at the ninety-three with its circle. She had the sudden, unprofessional desire to touch the circle, as if it were a coin on a counter that she had the right to claim. She did not touch it. The solution was his walk, even if she had stood on the bank. She would not take the circle home like a tip.
“Good luck in the gym,” she said to Caleb. “Eat something the morning of. Not only nerves. Nerves are not a breakfast.”
“Fries?” he said, hopeful, testing whether the day had a sense of humor.