The diner was busier than normal, even for a workday lunch hour, which was always busy. Eric smiled when he saw Betty, the senior waitress and unofficial greeter.
"I saved you a spot in Libby's section," she told him with a grin.
"Thanks, as always."
Betty led Eric to a far corner of the restaurant, laid down a menu, and said, "Enjoy."
Betty was the leader of a contingent in the diner determined to permanently match the handsome eligible bachelor and cute single mom. Eric didn't mind it a bit. Since the first day he saw her, Eric had admired Libby from afar. They never dated. They never actually talked that much outside the diner, other than bumping into each other at the small-town grocery store once or twice. Truth was the shy, young waitress was as partial to Eric as he was to her.
"The Reuben is our special today," Libby said once she got to Eric's table.
"I saw that out front," Eric smiled. "Don't forget the pickle."
Libby didn't take a drink order. She knew it was decaf coffee with cream and sugar. Libby took his menu and walked away, allowing Eric to steal a glance at the little ass and shapely legs he liked so much. A thirty-five-year-old financial advisor in the Cincinnati and Covington area, Eric had been tempted many times before by rich female clients. He remained single, preferring the freedom to date whomever he chose.
For whatever reason, he was drawn to this diner waitress from northern Kentucky. He knew from Betty that Libby had a twelve-year-old daughter. He knew nothing of Libby's abusive husband who she escaped from years ago. Now thirty-two, Libby was gaining confidence in her ability to survive.
Eric purposely ate a late lunch so that, by the time he finished, the rush was over, and Libby had a moment or two to chat.
"Quite a crowd today," Eric said, when Libby finally stood at his table.
"I'm beat. I don't know how Betty can do it at her age."
"Good tips today?" he asked.
"Pfft. Not enough to make a difference," Libby said. "I REALLY need to find another job. Not that I would leave here. I like it here."
"That helps. What would you like to do?"
Libby shrugged. "That's just it. I don't have any skills that look good on a resume, but I learn things really quick. I can do almost anything if you show me how one time."
"I wish I could help you out, Libby. But I will keep my eyes and ears open for opportunities."
"Thanks, Eric."
Libby saw Betty give her a glance, meaning 'get to work.'
"Gotta go. See you tomorrow?" Libby asked.
"I'll be here."
After finishing his third refill of coffee, Eric took his check and headed to the register. While standing there, he heard someone singing in the kitchen.
"Who's that?" Eric asked Betty.
"Oh, that's your girl Libby. Have you never heard her sing? Lord, she can sing like an angel."
Betty swiped Eric's card and handed him a receipt while Libby's voice rang out in the distance.
"Eric? Your receipt."
"Oh, sorry. Just thinking of something," he replied, taking the slip.
Indeed, he was. He was thinking of an unexpected opportunity, as promised. As he walked out of the diner, Eric was searching his phone's contact list. Maybe. Just maybe.
On his way back to the office, Eric was on the phone.
"Tommy, my man. How you doin'?"
"I'm good, Eric. What's up?"
Eric said, "The other night at O'Hallohan's you mentioned that you might be needing a singer for Gunpowder Creek. Is that still true?"
"Sure is. Billy has to have surgery. We need somebody bad."
"OK if it's a female?" Eric asked.
"Is she cute?" Tommy said with a chuckle.
"Actually, yes. But I'm biased," Eric said. "From the little I've heard; she can really sing."
"Let's have her audition with the guys and find out."
Eric and Tommy set up a tentative date and time, contingent on Libby's availability. The next day, Eric skipped lunch and, instead, was at the diner at three o'clock, the end of Libby's shift.
"Eric! You're a little late," Libby said when Eric approached her in the parking lot.
"Yeah. I know. I didn't come here to eat this time. Do you have time to talk for a minute?"
"Sure."
"Let's sit in my car," Eric said.
Once settled, he told her, "I have a friend who started a band. A country and western cover band. They need a singer. Are you interested?"
Libby's eyes widened like Eric had never seen. "Of course! I mean, probably. I've never sung in a band before. Just high school choirs, and church, and a few summer plays. But yeah."
"Are you available Wednesday at seven o'clock to meet with them and sing a little?"
"In the evening? Yeah. What do you know about the band? Where do they play?"