“You’re in luck. The table back there sent this back because one of them is allergic to tomatoes and forgot to mention it, so we had to make another. This one is still warm,” she offered.
“I can help clean up this afternoon, if you’d have me,” I smiled. As much as I needed the food, accepting free handouts was really hard for me and I did it as little as possible.
“Sure thing, Cami. There’s always room in my kitchen for you. First, though, you’re going to eat every bite of that chicken sandwich. I don’t want to see anything left on your plate before you head back to give Tony a hand. You’re looking too skinny these days,” she said, her concern hardening her voice a little.
I popped a French fry in my mouth.
“You got it. Thank you, Miss Ethel,” I said.
She nodded and started wiping down the counter. I dug into my meal enthusiastically, knowing that she would be watching to make sure I was eating. The diner was a small one, but not necessarily one with a lot of patrons. I’d have asked her for a job ages ago, but I knew that she didn’t have the capital to hire someone like me. It was just her and Tony running this little place.
True to her word, the sandwich was still pretty hot. I ate it all, reveling in the feeling of a full belly before I took my dishes into the back.
“Hey, Tony,” I called out, hoping not to startle him.
“Hey there, Cami,” he smiled warmly. He was a kind older gentleman, his accent thick and very Italian. He always greeted me with a smile and a word of welcome. Every time I was around him, I felt at ease, sort of like he was the grandfather I never had.
“Ethel said you could use my help today?” I offered.
The part about Tony that I appreciated the most was he never looked at me with pity. To him, I was just another human being and that was refreshing.
“Want to get started on the dishes?” he asked.
I nodded. He turned the knob on his radio up higher. They were playing nineties music and an Avril Lavigne song started. I was humming along to it when Tony started singing the lyrics out loud.
I stifled a chuckle, hazarding a glance back at him. He winked, and I couldn’t hold back my laugh after that.
I remained at the diner well into the evening hours. Tony and Ethel insisted that I stay for dinner, and they wouldn’t let me leave until I ate a slice of her homemade apple pie too, with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream. I was so full by the time I made my way back to the mansion that I knew I probably wouldn’t be hungry tomorrow.
There was no one at the house when I slipped inside. There were donuts and muffins on the kitchen counter, and I wrapped a few in some paper towels to hide in my bedroom. I slipped into the bed and curled up under the blanket, trying not to shiver. Thankfully, someone had turned the heat on, and soon enough, I was comfortably warm in my bed. I set the alarm on my phone, wanting to wake and get out before anyone showed up to see the house again.
* * *
The house went through several showings that week. Sometimes I hid in the house, but most of the time I managed to slip out unnoticed. That Friday though, I was hiding in my closet when a man came walking through with his real estate agent.
“The space has potential. This is far bigger than my place in California, but it would bring me much closer to home,” he mused. His voice was gruff, a bit growly and I peeked between the slats of the closet door. From what I could make out, he was pretty tall. Maybe six foot two or three, if I had to guess. His hair was a dark mahogany, and thick like a lion’s mane. I guessed that he was in his mid to late thirties. A beard covered his chin, well-groomed and trim. There were two long scars that cut across his forehead and the left side of his cheek. I stared at them for a while, wondering how he’d gotten them. I watched him closely, almost mesmerized by his strong stance and confident demeanor, as if the scars weren’t even there.
“It’s been on the market for quite a while. It’s overpriced in my opinion for its current condition. The original owner passed away and the house was left to his two children who want to get as much as they can for it,” the agent explained. I glanced at him for only a second, but my gaze was drawn back to the other man.
“Have there been other offers?” he asked.
“Not that I know of. Most everyone that has walked through wants something move-in ready at this kind of price point, Mason,” the agent said thoughtfully.
I let his name roll off my tongue in silence. I liked it.
“I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty. Plus, this place used to mean something to Hudson, right? If I fix it up, maybe I could bring some of that back,” Mason said.
“I think you could gain a lot of value in a property like this as long as you get it for a reasonable price,” the man replied.
“Let’s do it. Let’s send a cash offer that you agree is fair. I’m not really afraid of paying a little more to get the ball rolling. I want the timeline shortened though. Once this place is mine, I want the keys by next week,” Mason said bluntly, and his agent nodded.
“Got it, boss,” he grinned.
When they moved out of my room, I covered my mouth to suppress a gasp as the reality of the whole situation finally hit me. He was going to buy my home.
I’d have to find somewhere else to go.
I slunk back in the closet, hiding behind several boxes for a few hours until I was certain that the house was empty. The loss of my home left me feeling rattled and sad. I’d grown comfortable here. There was no way some rich man would let a homeless orphan stay here without paying some ridiculous rent that I couldn’t afford. I had no way of making money anyway.