The All-Nighter
This is a standalone story, written for the
Valentine's Day Contest 2025,
but it features many of the characters from one of my earlier stories,
The Diner
. You don't have to read that story to enjoy this one but, if you do, it will give you some additional context and background.
My sincere thanks to The Hoary Cleric for editing this story (my first time collaborating with an editor). Any remaining errors are mine alone. The usual caveats apply; there isn't much, if any, sex in this story and it is a slow burn, but I hope you enjoy it.
Sheridan, Wyoming
Morning - Thursday, February 13
Jeremy
As my grandpa used to say, it was colder than a brass toilet seat on the shady side of an iceberg, and I only had two choices of footwear—a pair of polished black leather dress shoes that looked professional but would leave me with frostbitten toes, or my Sorels which would keep my feet plenty warm, but make me look like I was getting ready to ride a snowmobile for the day. After a brief debate, I decided to wear the Sorels—I didn't want potential new employees to think that I was the kind of man who put appearance over comfort and practicality.
My second decision of the day was an easier one. Since I was hoping to close a deal by dinnertime, it was time to break out my Christmas socks. They might be a little loud, what with their red and green stripes and band of little white angels at the top and all, but I had it on very good authority that they would bring me luck, and they hadn't let me down yet. They were a present from Stella, the woman I had hoped would be my girlfriend, and her daughter, Grace, who was a cancer survivor. Wearing them always put a smile on my face.
I finished getting dressed and headed out into the cold clear morning. Despite the early hour, Evans' Rest Stop was hopping. The overnight parking lot was full almost to overflowing with transport trucks and there was already a line at the gas pumps. In some ways, there was nothing out of the ordinary about Evans'—it had most of the features you would expect from a highway service stop including a family restaurant that opened early and closed late, a small but clean motel, showers and other facilities for long-haul truckers, a gas station and a garage. You could find similar facilities on any highway or interstate across the country.
In other ways, Evans' was special, and what made it special were the people. Some companies pay lip service to being "family" oriented. Often, this just means that employees are expected to contribute their time and efforts for free because "family first." But while employees are expected to treat the business like a family, the company behaves like Cinderella's evil stepmother—keeping all the profit for themselves and letting staff go or cutting hours at the first sign of trouble.
Evans' Rest Stop was different. Mr. Evans treated his employees with the same love and respect as his family. He knew everyone's names and the names of their spouses and children. Twice per year, profits were shared with everyone who worked for the company, not as 'bonuses' but as an entitlement recognizing the contributions they had made to its success that year, through their hard work and loyalty. He was beloved, but he was also getting older, and none of his children wanted to take over the business. That's where my company, Legacy Capital Corporation (LCC), came in.
Over the past decade, I had criss-crossed the country acquiring solid, profitable companies whose owners were looking to retire. Whether by skill or by luck, I had been moderately successful and now owned more than 100 companies in 11 states. In the past, I had stayed away from gas stations or rest stops. The margins weren't great, and the competition was fierce.
Again, though, Evans' Rest Stop was different. The combination of service excellence, strong management and a sterling reputation made it very attractive to me. In fact, I had already made up my mind that I would buy it, if Mr. Evans was willing to sell. True to form, though, he was less interested in the final price and more interested in what the sale would mean for the employees that he loved. Before he would sign any deal, he had to be 100% certain that his employees would be looked after well.
Luckily, treating my employees and managers well was the cornerstone of my business philosophy. There were benefits that you could offer when you had almost 5,000 employees that just were not possible for smaller companies, including comprehensive health insurance, retirement benefits and the potential for career growth. None of these things would've been possible if my company were publicly traded—the Board of Directors would have insisted on cutting costs to maximize short-term profits. Thankfully, LCC was private, and I was its sole owner, so I ran things the way that I thought best.
After almost a week of negotiations, I was confident that we would come to an agreement by the end of the day. I had hoped that the deal would be done earlier in the week, but it had dragged on. In other years, this wouldn't have been a problem since I had been depressingly single since before I had founded my company. This year, though, I had really hoped to be with Stella on Valentine's Day—and that maybe, if I was lucky, she would be my Valentine.
Up until a week ago, I thought I had a pretty good shot at that, but then I went and messed it all up.
Hooker, Oklahoma
Late Afternoon - Thursday, February 13
Stella
Running a grocery store in a small town like Hooker, Oklahoma is all about the people. It's about your employees and making sure that they feel valued and have the tools they need to succeed. It's about your customers and knowing who will need to buy on credit while waiting to sell their crops or livestock. And it's about your community. If you're not a trusted part of people's lives, there is always a big box store less than half an hour away that would be more than happy to take their business.
If you want to be successful, your customers need to see and feel how you make their lives better. Life can be pretty hard at times, particularly in a small town like Hooker, and sometimes a kind word or a bit of extra patience can make all the difference. That was my philosophy when I was a waitress at the diner, and it's my philosophy now that I am an assistant manager at McGrath's Grocery Store.
I knew that some people thought that I had gotten the job because my uncle is the store manager. When I started in January, I would have happily told them that they were wrong—that I was qualified and had gotten it on merit alone. Now, however, I knew the truth. It wasn't my uncle who had gotten me the job, it was someone who was significantly higher up on the corporate ladder—Jeremy.
When I first found out that Jeremy owned Legacy Capital Corp and, by extension, McGrath's Grocery Store, I wanted to quit and go back to the diner. My first and only boyfriend, my daughter Grace's father, had been a controlling asshole and the last thing I needed was to have anyone—even a seemingly great guy like Jeremy—interfering in my life like that. But the grocery store offered extended health benefits that I might desperately need if Grace's cancer came back. So, I kept the job, even though I was furious with Jeremy, and I made sure to work my butt off to prove that I belonged. I arrived early, I left late, and I signed up for the shifts that no one else wanted to work.
I could understand why he didn't tell me that he owned LCC right away. He must have women throwing themselves at him all the time, but how would he know if they were interested in him for who he is, and not for his money? But I was still so angry at him for misleading me. To make matters worse, talking to my Uncle Mike after our fight, I realized that it was Jeremy who had paid for Grace's cancer treatment. She wouldn't have gotten better without his help, and he never said a thing, even when I was so angry with him. I must have seemed like such an ungrateful cow.
******
Things had started out so well. When I closed my eyes, I could picture Jeremy the first day that he came into the diner. He was so tall and thin, but not gangly. And he had the most soulful eyes to go along with his sad smile. I didn't even know his name at the time, but he had already started to take up residence in my heart.
Later, I was amazed that Uncle Mike invited a complete stranger like him to join us for Christmas. I had no idea what to expect when his truck pulled into the yard. But the lights from the house and the tree out front danced across his windshield and lit up his eyes, filling the night air with a sense of magic. Grace and I watched through the front window as he sat in his truck for a minute, seeming to gather himself before he grabbed some bags and then came up to the house.
