Bridget plopped down on the hidden chair beneath the four-leaf-clover patterned counter and pulled out a battered copy of Deep Secret, by Dianna Wynne Jones. Flipping through to the recently dog-eared page, she quickly absorbed herself in the story, a story that stayed riveting and suspenseful every time she read and re-read it. After a few pages, she was interuppted by the sound of a car engine coming closer. Bridget sighed and tucked the book back into her apron as one, two, three, four, five, six! Seven! people walked through the diner door.
Melina, alerted by the cheerful ding-a-ling of the bell over the door, smoothly rose from her chair, her wrinkled face already arranged in a smile, and graciously greeted the party. Marcus, the cook,slipped off his Fall Out Boy playing headphones. He flashed a smile at Bridget as she rose, stretching, and started towards the group. “I know,” he said, “I thought we’d have a break too.”
“Well,” said Bridget, “You can’t miss what you never had!”