Learns who likes their eggs a certain way. Who tips well. Who needs a little extra kindness some mornings. There's a woman named Dorothy who comes in every Tuesday. Widowed 3 years now.
Always sits at the same small table. Always orders tea instead of coffee. Never finishes the whole cup. Most of the staff just take her order and move on. Josie notices something different.
Notices Dorothy's hands shake a little. Notices she reads the same page of her book each visit. On her third Tuesday, Josie stops by the table. Not to take an order, just to ask how she's doing. Dorothy looks up surprised.
Nobody's asked her that in a while. My husband used to read to me, Dorothy says quietly. I never learned to love reading alone. Never had to. Josie pulls a chair over, sits for just a minute.
What was he reading you before? Dorothy's eyes soften. She points to the page, starts to explain. For 5 minutes in the middle of a busy shift, Josie listens. Really listens.
The way most people forget how to anymore. When she finally stands to get back to work, Dorothy smiles. A real one. The first Meg says she's seen in months. You're a good girl, Dorothy tells her.
Don't let this town change that. Josie carries that sentence with her for the rest of the day. Small kindness costs nothing. It just takes noticing. That's a lesson her father taught her a long time ago.
She's still learning how true it really is. There's an old farmer named Earl who comes in every single morning. Always the same order. Two eggs, dry toast, coffee, black. Always leaves exactly $2 under his plate before he leaves.
Most staff barely register him. He never asks for much. Never complains. Josie notices something the other waitresses missed after 2 years of serving him. He always sits facing the door.
Always checks his watch twice before leaving. On her second week, she asks him about it, refilling his coffee slowly. Waiting on someone? She asks casual, giving him an easy way out if he wants one. Earl is quiet a moment, surprised anyone noticed at all.
Used to meet my brother here every morning, he finally says before he passed. Guess I never broke the habit. Feels wrong to stop showing up. Josie sets the coffee pot down, giving him her full attention for a moment. That's not a habit, she says.
That's loyalty. Those aren't the same thing. Earl looks up at her, something in his weathered face loosening slightly. Nobody's called it that before, he says. Just called me stubborn mostly.
Stubborn people give up eventually, Josie says. You're still here. He almost smiles, tucking that thought away like a man unused to compliments. The $2 under his plate that morning sits a little longer than usual. Like maybe today they mean something different than they did yesterday.