Chapter 3 - The Diner's Secret
On Monday morning, I walked into Sal’s Diner before the morning rush. The smell of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon filled the cozy restaurant, a sharp contrast to the high-stakes emotional confrontation of two days prior.
Sal was behind the counter, wiping down the stainless steel coffee pots with a white rag. When he saw me, he put the rag down and gestured toward a booth in the corner.
"Coffee?" he offered.
"Please," I said, sliding into the vinyl seat.
He brought over two mugs and sat down across from me. "How is the kid?"
"He's resting," I said, taking a warm breath from the mug. "Sal... I don't even know how to thank you. Or apologize for the scene on Saturday."
Sal waved his hand dismissively. "Don't you dare apologize. You've got a prince for a son, ma'am. Do you know why I called you?"
I shook my head.
"Evan came in on Saturday morning and asked if I could advance him three hundred dollars from his next two months of shifts," Sal explained, his eyes softening. "He was frantic. He said he was short on his 'final goal.' I knew what a bike cost—and I knew he’d already earned enough working for me to buy three of those bikes. That’s when I realized the numbers didn't add up."
Sal leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "I caught him trying to sell his vintage baseball card collection—the one his dad gave him—to one of my line cooks for quick cash. That’s when I forced him to tell me the truth. When he refused, I called you."
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"He was trying to protect me to the very end," I said, feeling tears prickle my eyes again.
"He loves you," Sal said simply. "And around here, we take care of family. Evan isn't just a dishwasher to us, ma'am. He's the heart of this kitchen."
