When Penny passes away, it falls to Kylie to pick up the slack at the diner—and to take care of Roy, the old geezer who lingers too long and never seems to take a bath.
“It’ll be hard on him today.” Tyler nodded toward the window at the twelve-passenger van as he filled the acrylic countertop display with fresh-baked rolls. The van operated by the senior center carried citizens with no other means of transportation to and from the grocery store, bank and Penny’s Place diner. “I’m glad I’m back here. I wouldn’t put up with him the way Penny does—did.”
Kylie wished she could trade places with Tyler in the kitchen. Away from all the customers, not just Roy. All morning, condolences had been handed out for the woman Kylie had barely known. Kylie just wanted to work her double shift and go home.
Penny died last week, and the diner had shut down for the funeral. Kylie had only waited tables there for about a month, a job she hated in a town she despised, but after running out of money at college—for tuition and food—she didn’t have much of a choice. The rock-bottom rent for her studio apartment was the only bonus Gainesville held for Kylie until she could earn enough cash to return to her graphic design studies at DeLane.
Waitressing, face to face with people all day—that was the last thing that matched Kylie’s personality.
Kylie had met Roy on her first day. Evidently, he was a regular. She didn’t know his name for the first week or so. She was terrible with names and had struggled to keep up with her tables in that first week. Roy always sat at the counter, and Penny always took care of him.
Kylie wiped down a table and put the dollar tip in her back pocket. One dollar closer to saying goodbye to the cornflower blue walls with yellow polka dots the size of dinner plates and endless requests for refills.
That’s what she kept telling herself, at least. One dollar at a time.
The bell over the front door banged against the frame, and Roy took his place at the counter seat. The diner ran a waitress short today until Penny’s husband could hire more staff, so Kylie had the ten tables and the five seats at the counter.
Penny had had the patience of a saint. She’d always greeted Roy in the same manner. Always put up with him paying in pennies. A joke between the two of them maybe. Penny’s Diner only takes pennies. He’d taken a lot of her time, sometimes staying for over an hour for a cup of coffee, and he never left a tip. Well, never a good one. A single penny. No more, no less.
“Why don’t you do something about him?” Kylie had Tyler ask Penny one day after Roy boarded the red transit bus. “He smells and no one wants to sit next to him. He’s a waste of space.”
Penny had rolled up the dishtowel and snapped it at Tyler’s leg. “No one is a waste of space. We may be the only social interaction that poor man gets.” Tyler had dropped it and no one else had questioned it again.
“What’ll it be Roy?” Kylie slung the very same dishtowel, the one with the purple stains from the season’s special raspberry pie, over her shoulder and poured the black coffee she knew he’d ask for.
Roy, a good three days past due for a bath, looked confused. He eyed the steaming coffee cup and then eyed Kylie. She sighed impatiently. At least there wouldn’t be five people to wait on at the counter. Roy’s stench would drive them to a table or out the door.
“Where’s Penny?”
“Roy, Penny passed away.” The words came out flat. “Remember? Remember last week when you couldn’t come to the diner for a few days because we closed down? That was because Penny died.”
“Oh.” He started at the coffee and twirled the cup on the saucer.
“Anything else?” Kylie asked as a four-top came through the door. “Roy, is there anything else I can get you?” She already knew the answer.
He shook his head and sipped at the coffee.
Kylie left him at the counter, cleared her nostrils and her impatience with a couple of deep breaths and went to seat the couples.
“Miss, Miss?” She hadn’t even taken the drink orders before Roy was calling her back.
“One minute, Roy.” She smiled at the table in front of her, took their requests and went to the counter.
“Penny always stayed up here and we talked and stuff.”
“Roy, I’m the only one here. Do you see the other table? They need drinks and food, too.”
“But Penny never left the counter.”
“I’m not Penny, Roy. I’m Kylie.” He hung his head like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Kylie cringed and softened. “Look, I’ll check on you in a little bit.” He barely nodded and she went about serving the other table, along with two more that walked in while she was coddling Roy.
When she got back to the counter, Roy had left. His cup was half-full, still steaming. Forty-nine pennies lay on the right side of the cup. One shiny new penny on the left. Her tip. She went to the door and hung her head out, but Roy was gone.
“Hey, Tyler! Did the transit van pick up Roy?”
“What, he’s gone already? What’s your secret?”
Kylie frowned. “Yeah, he left, but I didn’t see him get picked up.” She supposed Roy knew what he was doing. She went about her double shift covering double the real estate in the diner, and Roy was soon forgotten.
#
Kylie walked the two blocks home to her small studio apartment above the bank, her jean pockets weighed down with dollar bills and quarters. She’d lost track after twenty bucks, but today, with the double, she’d at least be able to afford the electric bill.
She fumbled with the lock on the old door, flipped the lights, threw her keys down and emptied her pockets on the counter. A quick count of her tips and she was satisfied that in a few more days, the month’s bills would be covered and the rest of the income could go into her college fund—the fund her parents had stopped funding because she was “irresponsible” and needed to “learn a lesson.” If she wanted to finish, she’d have to go it on her own.
She kicked something on the floor and sent it skidding across the kitchen. She couldn’t get used to the mail slot and walked right on top of the letters and bills every time she came home.
She gathered the mess, threw away the sales fliers and coupons for fast food. The diner provided one meal per shift. It was peanut butter and jelly the rest of the time.
A hand-addressed letter caught her attention. It was a letter from Penny’s lawyer. Penny had left everyone at the diner a small bonus of a hundred dollars and a personal note. Kylie was shocked. She turned the check over and over. She didn’t have a chance to get to know Penny at all outside of training. The other employees had worked with her for years. She opened the letter.
Dear Kylie,
I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to know each other. I’m sure you’ll do great at the diner. Gainesville is lucky to have someone like you.
Penny.
P.S. Take care of Roy for me, will you?
Kylie stared at the note and read it several times. Lucky to have someone like her? Penny hadn’t even known her. If she’d had any idea how Kylie truly felt about the small town and the dumb diner, she’d have never included Kylie in the bonus. Or taken the time to write the note.
And take care of Roy? It made her dread her double shift tomorrow even more. And all the penny-counting she’d have to waste her time with.
She scooped up the loose change from the countertop and dumped it into a large glass bowl in the bottom of her closet. A few boxes from college packed neatly away for her return trip lined the bottom, and then she had an idea.
A few semesters ago, Kylie’s sorority had held a coin drive for a community project at DeLane. No one had wanted to fool with counting money, so the girls had sprung for a battery-operated coin counter. Dump the coins in the top and the digital readout did the rest. She dug through the boxes until she found the machine and flipped it on.
Nothing.
Well, a quick stop to the corner market in the morning for a fresh set of batteries was a small price to pay for all the time she’d save counting Roy’s dumb change. She retrieved a few loose dollars to pay for the batteries in the morning, changed into her pajamas and crashed for the night.
#
Right on the money, the bell above the door rang as the transit van pulled away. Roy took his place at the counter.
“Hey, Roy. Coffee?” Kylie tried to keep the words short and to the point. If she opened the door for conversation, he’d walk all the way in and overstay his welcome.
He smiled and nodded.
“Penny’s gone, isn’t she?”
Kylie offered a half sympathetic grin as she poured his coffee. “Yes, she’s gone.”
“And you’re Kylie?” He took a sip.
“Yep. All day every day.”
He almost choked as he chuckled and gave her a grin.
“Need anything else?”
He shook his head. “Not too busy today? You stay at the counter? Talk a while?”
Kylie shifted and grabbed a washcloth. “I’ve got to get ready for the breakfast rush, Roy.”
“Oh.” He started fishing pennies, one by one, from his pocket.
“Hey, that reminds me. Since I’m working out here alone, I thought this might help.” She pulled the coin sorter from behind the counter and carefully showed Roy how to work it. “That way, you can help save me some time. You put your pennies for your coffee in here. This tells you how many you’ve paid.”
Roy lit up and grinned a yellow, ragged smile from ear to ear. He spent the next fifteen minutes feeding the machine pennies. Kylie went about tidying things and waiting on a couple of stragglers.
“Got it figured out?”
“Forty-nine. On the dot.” He put one extra penny beside the machine. Kylie’s tip. “This was a nice thing you did for me.”
“I’m not so nice, Roy. Just trying to get work done.”
“It’s nice to know someone was thinkin’ about me when I wasn’t nowhere near them.”
Kylie shifted uncomfortably and tried not to make eye contact.
“You’re not too busy right now. Want to have some coffee with me?”
“Honestly, no. I don’t want to.” Since the coin sorter went well, she thought maybe she could solve another problem. “Quite honestly, Roy,” she lowered her voice, “you need a bath.”
He looked surprised, then reared back his head and belly-laughed. She could smell his foul coffee-laden breath from behind the counter.
“That’s probably right. Probably right. But, usually, baths are for church-goin’ and funerals.” He laughed again and fished another penny from his pocket and left it next to the machine with the first one. “We’ll see, Kylie. We’ll see.” The transit van pulled to the curb and honked, and Roy left, leaving his aroma to linger over the counter.
Tyler poked his head around the corner. “Betcha wish you stayed at DeLane.”
Kylie would’ve snapped the towel at him, but she didn’t know how.
#
The next day, Roy showed up in clean clothes. Clothes Kylie had never seen him wear. The overalls were gone. He wore a white oxford button-up and black trousers that jingled with pennies when he walked in the door. Kylie, Tyler and a couple of regular customers did a double-take.
Roy had even trimmed up his beard.
She went to the counter and poured him his coffee. She set the coin sorter next to him. He smiled with still-yellow teeth, but she couldn’t smell his breath. All she could pick up was the steaming black coffee.
“Wow, Roy. You clean up nice!”
“It was a chore. It was a chore.” He sipped the coffee and turned the cup in the saucer. “I suppose you’re busy today.”
“I suppose. But you holler if you need anything, okay Roy?”
He nodded and worked on the coffee.
Kylie went about waiting and bussing tables. She enjoyed the extra money the doubles were putting in her account, but the diner really needed another pair of hands, even if it meant sharing the tips.
When she had a moment to look up, Roy was gone. One penny on the counter. Forty-nine in the machine.
#
Roy didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after that. Tyler hadn’t seen him. After her shift on his fourth absence, Kylie flagged down the transit van and quizzed the driver, but it was his first day back after an illness, so he didn’t know anything.
“Why didn’t the transit company check on him?” Penny’s note rang through Kylie’s brain. As much as she didn’t want to deal with Roy, she could feel his absence in the pit of her stomach. “Can you take me to his home, uh…” She struggled to read his embroidered name tag.
“Joe. Name’s Joe. Get on.” Joe nodded sheepishly to the fare box. Kylie rolled her eyes and deposited four quarters from her tips.
It took twenty minutes to get to Roy’s tiny home on a dilapidated lot. Weeds grew in the landscaping and paint chipped off the siding. Kylie asked Joe to wait, since there was no one else on the van, and he was happy to do so.
She knocked on the door. Then she tried the door handle. The door swung open with a creak and Roy’s familiar odor smacked her in the face.
She coughed a little before announcing herself. But there was no answer. She worked her way through the barren entry and checked some of the rooms, but Roy was not there.
She went out the back door and saw him sitting in an old metal rocker facing the back of the property. A tall oak tree dwarfed the house and the yard.
“Hey, Roy!”
He didn’t turn around.
She approached him, and then she understood. He sat there, holding a brown leather book in ash gray hands. He’d shaved again and had on a crisp blue oxford with black trousers.
Church and funerals. Roy had cleaned up to go home.
Kylie had never seen a dead person before, at least not one out of a casket. She called for Joe, who stumbled through the yard. Joe fumbled with his phone and called 911.
Her head spun. She should’ve checked on him the first day he didn’t show. She sat down with her back to the oak tree, staring at Roy just sitting in that chair, his head bowed down to his chest.
Emergency crews came and went. Someone handed her the book that had been in his lap. Joe’s arms were around her. Kylie felt guilty, as her first thought was that Joe didn’t smell much better than Roy. But she allowed herself to weep with the old driver and then he took her home.
Kylie rode in Roy’s seat back to her studio, clutching the brown book.
It wasn’t until she was in her apartment and after she’d showered that she realized she shouldn’t have taken it. The book was an album filled with photos of people she didn’t know.
Or did she?
There was Joe, the kind transit driver. Old Mildred was pictured with a much younger Roy in front of Gainesville Bank, the same one Kylie lived above now. Mildred always complained that the diner pies weren’t like the ones that her mother used to make, but ate two slices anyway.
She could make out a few more faces if she imagined them more wrinkled and weathered. Some rode the transit. A few she had to help onto the transit with their doggie bags. She supposed if she’d taken the time to really look at the faces of the riders, she could match more photos with more people. She had to remove the photos and look at the names.
She sobbed again.
She didn’t know their names.
As she closed the photo album, two envelopes fell to the floor. One had Penny’s name. The other had Kylie’s name, but it was misspelled.
Both had faint brown stains from a coffee mug.
Kylie set Penny’s aside. She’d give that to Ed tomorrow at the diner. She opened hers and cried again as she read his shaky cursive.
Kilee,
You are nice and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Penny would be proud of you for helping out an old geezer like me.
Roy
She turned the envelope upside down and a single penny fell into her lap.
#
Six months after Roy’s funeral, Kylie stood prepped and ready outside Penny’s Place for the grand reopening. Even Tyler had spiffed up and wore a chef’s hat for the occasion. Joe and Mildred—and way too many people for the number of tables—lined the street all the way to the bank.
Ed came, dressed in a suit. “I’m sure glad you left the name the same.” Ed admired the lettering on the window. Kylie had used her graphic design skills to redo the fonts and artwork, but it was still Penny’s Place. The menus and business cards had gotten a much-needed update, too.
“I wouldn’t think of changing the name. It will always be Penny’s Place.” She put an arm around his shoulders and led him inside.
Ed hadn’t wanted to mess with the diner, he was too old. Kylie, after Roy’s death and much soul searching, had decided to take on the role of manager with the option to buy Ed out as soon as she had enough money.
One dollar at a time.
He looked around in stunned silence. The tables were newer, as well as the countertop and display cases. The walls had a fresh coat of paint.
“I tried to match it as close as I could.” Cornflower blue walls with yellow polka dots, freshly painted. The only addition to the walls was the photo gallery.
Inside each dot of sunshine was an eight-by-ten photograph, blown up from Roy’s album. Under each photo, Kylie had hung a small bronze plate with the names and dates for each image. Several people had died since Kylie had taken over the diner. Some of them were still regulars.
And Kylie knew them all by name.
