CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CHECK
The week after the hearing, Ethan went to three job interviews.
At the first restaurant, the manager asked why he had left the bistro.
Ethan answered plainly.
He said he had been dismissed after paying part of a customer’s bill and that the former workplace was undergoing a separate court-supervised review.
The manager thanked him but offered the job to someone else.
At the second restaurant, the interviewer recognized his face from local coverage.
“We try to stay out of public disputes,” she said.
Ethan understood what that meant.
At the third, a small place called The Orchard Room, the chef asked him to carry four plates across a busy dining room while answering a question from an impatient customer.
Ethan did it without spilling anything.
The chef, Janelle Ward, watched him for a long moment.
“You don’t seem easily rattled,” she said.
“I get rattled,” Ethan admitted.
“I just try not to make it the customer’s problem.”
Janelle asked about the incident with Victor.
Ethan repeated the facts without making himself sound nobler than he was.
He admitted that he had not expected to lose his job.
He admitted that he had been angry.
He also admitted that he might have been more careful about how he approached the register.
Janelle listened.
“Did you take money from the till?”
“No.”
“Did the customer receive the food?”
“Yes.”
“Then I know what I need to know about the payment.”
She offered him a trial shift.
Ethan accepted before he could begin doubting it.
The Orchard Room was smaller than the bistro and had mismatched chairs that rocked when guests leaned back.
The kitchen ran on a narrow schedule.
There was no room for the elaborate presentations Victor had favored.
During his first shift, Ethan served an elderly couple celebrating their anniversary.
The man asked whether the soup contained celery.
Ethan checked with the kitchen rather than guessing.
The woman asked for an extra spoon.
He brought one.
At closing, Janelle counted the drawer with him and thanked every worker by name.
Ethan walked home in the cold with tired legs and a paycheck date written on a slip of paper.
His phone rang near the corner pharmacy.
It was Owen.
“Mom says you have a new job.”
“Mom continues to be remarkably efficient.”
“Is it better?”
Ethan watched a bus splash through a puddle.
“I think it could be.”
Owen hesitated.
“Do you still think about the old man?”
“Every day.”
“Does he think you’re his hero?”
Ethan smiled into the phone.
“He thinks I should remember to eat lunch.”
“That’s probably wise.”
Ethan stopped outside his apartment building.
He could have bought a hot meal for himself, but he had promised Marta he would come to a meeting about what happened to the memorial materials.
He picked up a loaf of bread instead.
He planned to share it with whoever arrived hungry.
