Suddenly Single. Millie Criswell

announced, Lisa breathed a sigh of relief that her turn had finally come. “Here.” She began waving, then stood. “I’m coming,” she called out as she made her way toward the counter through the hoard of people waiting in line, openly coveting her good fortune.

      At the unemployment office the “you snooze, you lose” rule was firmly in effect.

      Mr. Pip-squeak had so many freckles that his face looked like one big red blob. He was looking over her work history and frowning deeply, which didn’t bode well for her finding a decent job.

      People tended to underestimate her abilities.

      “I’m afraid, Miss Morelli, that with your lack of experience, there aren’t many jobs available that fit your qualifications.”

      Lisa couldn’t keep the dismay from her face. “But I worked in a bookstore. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?”

      “That’s true. But we have no current listings for that kind of job. You are, of course, free to apply at the major bookstore chains, if you like. They always need help during the Christmas holidays.”

      As if she hadn’t already done that. Puleeze! And the Christmas holidays were still eleven months away. What was she supposed to do until then, hit the streets with a tin cup?

      “What we do have is a job at the Holiday House Motel. It pays minimum wage, but no benefits, I’m afraid.”

      “Doing what?”

      “Cleaning motel rooms, that sort of thing.”

      She fought the urge to gag. Just what she wanted to do with her life: change sheets that had been soiled from—

      Yuck!

      “Is that all you have? I must be qualified for something better than that. What about selling cosmetics?” She leaned over the counter. “See how carefully my eyeliner is applied? I’m very good at—”

      “Afraid not.” Rubbing his chin, he flipped through the thick stack of cards that listed all the current jobs that were available. “There is a job waitressing, but you don’t have the experience, I’m afraid.”

      “The good news is I’m a quick learner. Where’s it at?”

      “Little Italy. Delisio’s Deli.”

      Lisa’s face lit. “I’ll take it.” She grabbed the card from the startled man’s hand and headed toward the door.

      “Wait, Miss Morelli! I have to place a call, let them know you’re coming. You can’t just go there on your own.”

      “Don’t bother. Manny Delisio and I are old friends.” Sort of.

      “THAT’S THE FOURTH DISH you’ve broken in as many days, Lisa. You should be more careful. I’m not made of money, you know.”

      Old friends, my ass!

      Manny’s nostrils were flaring, and his new toupee was slightly askew. What Francie ever saw in the guy was beyond Lisa’s comprehension. Of course, Manny might have looked good when he was seventeen. He sure as hell didn’t now.

      It was at the tip of Lisa’s tongue to tell Manny that he was the cheapest SOB who had ever walked the face of the earth—or should she say, “slithered?” But then she thought better of it, owing to the fact that she needed this job and the money—not that there was much of it—that went with it.

      “Did you get Mrs. Paulie’s cheesecake? She’s a good customer, don’t keep her waiting. She’s waving at you. See?”

      “I’ll get it right now, Manny. And I’ll refill her coffee cup, too.” Lisa hoped she sounded suitably contrite and efficient, at the same time.

      “Good. Now get moving. We haven’t got all day.”

      Mrs. Paulie was her usual charming self when Lisa approached with her order. “About time you brought the coffee and dessert. The other girl who worked here was much more efficient. Are you new? You look new.” The old lady peered at her through inch-thick lenses.

      “Yes, ma’am. I just started this week.”

      “Thought so. You’re not as good as that other girl.”

      Deciding not to respond, Lisa had just started to fill the older woman’s coffee cup when a four-year-old boy ran by and kicked Lisa behind the right knee, causing her arm to jiggle. The coffee went all over the table, not to mention Mrs. Paulie, who began screaming at the top of her lungs.

      “Shh! Shh! I’m so sorry, Mrs. Paulie. I’ll help you clean up. There’s no need to scream.”

      “Stop, you stupid girl!” She pushed Lisa’s hand aside as she attempted to blot up the mess. “Look what you’ve done. I’m burned! I’m burned!” She jumped up from her chair, causing all the patrons of the delicatessen to look over, including its unhappy, scowling owner who was shooting imaginary bullets at Lisa.

      I am so screwed.

      “Are you okay, Mrs. Paulie?” Manny asked, rushing over with a handful of clean towels.

      The woman glared at him. “Do I look okay? I’m burned, and my dress is ruined.”

      Lisa thought the dress had been ruined before Mrs. Paulie put it on, it was that ugly. Orange sunflowers. Need she say more?

      “Go in the back and stay out of the way, Lisa,”

      Manny ordered. “I’ll talk to you after I’m done cleaning up your mess.”

      Without an argument, Lisa hurried to the kitchen, hoping to avoid the glares of the whispering patrons. She found Mr. Tarantino behind the grill, flipping burgers.

      “Hey, Mr. T. How’s it going?” She liked the older man, even though he smoked and smelled like three-day-old fish. And he liked the fact that she called him “Mr. T.” The old TV program The A-Team was one of his favorites.

      Having overheard Manny’s blustering, the grill cook smiled kindly. “Don’t worry about Manny, Lisa. He’ll get over it. He always does.”

      “I’m not so sure. He looked pretty mad.”

      “He and his wife had another fight last night. He’s always a shit when that happens. I’m better off not being married, I think.”

      Lisa smiled. “Thanks, Mr. T. I hope you’re right.”

      “Would you mind watching my burgers for just a sec? I gotta take a leak.”

      “Sure.” Taking the spatula from the man’s outstretched hand, Lisa began lifting the burgers to see how cooked they were.

      Unfortunately, her action caused the hot pad that was perched precariously close to the edge of the grill to fall onto the hot surface. It ignited immediately.

      Flames shot up from the cooktop toward the ceiling before Lisa even realized what was happening. She yelped, trying to remember what to do for a grease fire.

      “Flour!” She searched frantically for the canister. “Where the hell is it?” she shouted, becoming more panicked by the second as she watched the flames grow higher and hotter.

      “Mr. Tarantino, come quick! We have a problem.”

      Problem sounded so much better than towering inferno.

      But it was Manny who answered her call for help.

      He removed the fire extinguisher from the wall, which happened to be located right next to the door leading back into the restaurant, and just a few feet from where Lisa was now standing.

      I am so screwed!

      “Get back!” he ordered, then began spraying white foam all over the burgers and incinerated hot pad. The fire was put out quickly.

      After he was finished, Manny motioned for Lisa to approach the grill area. “You nearly burned down my restaurant.”

      Lisa