the diner. The path ended at the back door. People were certainly inside. She could hear all sorts of chatter, so she knocked once, and then pushed open the door.
“Hello?”
Julia didn’t look all that different this morning; she was wearing a bright pink dress covered with a white apron, and standing near the stove.
“Shirley, right?”
Shirley nodded.
“Good morning,” Julia greeted. “I have to get these orders out, then I’ll fill you in on what’s happening. I’m sure you want to know.”
“I sure do,” Shirley answered, walking into the kitchen and closing the door behind her. The room was big, and unlike the kitchen at CB’s, this one was neat and clean. Sparkling clean. “Anything I can do to help?”
“I’m a little shorthanded right now, with Rosie being out at the cabin.” Julia flipped a big slice of ham onto a plate and then two eggs, one after the other, yolks still intact and bright yellow. “Greta’s running off her feet, and the dishes are piling up.”
Shirley headed toward the double sink where dirty dishes were indeed piling up. Washing a few dishes was the least she could do. “I’ll get these washed up in no time.”
Julia laughed, grabbing up another plate. “That’s only half of them. Greta has several tables to clear off yet.”
“I can do that, too,” Shirley offered.
“Nope. Not dressed like that.” Julia filled another plate with ham and eggs. “We don’t want to set any tongues wagging.” She carried three plates toward the door. One in each hand and one on her forearm. “If you don’t mind doing a few dishes, I’d sincerely appreciate it. The breakfast rush will be over soon.”
Like at CB’s, the diner had hot water right at the sink. All she had to do was turn on the faucet. When she had time, she was going to check out how that happened. Right now, she had dishes to do. She poured in some soap flakes and then filled the sink with hot water.
The Swaggerts’ house was the first place she’d seen a hot-water tank. She’d had to keep a small coal fire burning to keep it hot, and didn’t see anything resembling that big old copper tank anywhere in this kitchen.
She did see where the dishes were to go once they were washed. Open shelves held plates, cups, bowls, glasses and big trays for all the silverware.
When Julia returned with her hands full of dirty dishes, she set them on the long counter next to the sink. “It’ll slow down, I promise.”
“I don’t mind,” Shirley said. “I’ve washed dishes my entire life.”
“How long have you been in California?” Julia asked as she walked back to the stove.
“Not long,” Shirley answered.
“Where you from?”
“Nebraska.”
They talked as they worked. Julia cooking and carrying plates out the door, and Shirley washing and putting away dishes. Julia said she’d never been anywhere except California and Shirley explained that she came here to become a singer and how she’d got the job at CB’s.
Another woman, Greta, who was a waitress, buzzed through the door with dirty dishes and back out with plates full of food at regular intervals. She was young, with dark brown hair, friendly green eyes and a giggle in her voice despite the pace at which she moved.
The pace at which they all worked slowly tapered until it nearly came to a stop. Shirley wiped down all the counters and washed out the sink while Julia scrubbed down the long flat grill on one side of the stove that also had six burners on the other side. On her last trip through the door, Greta had carried a broom and dustpan.
“You must have a lot of customers,” Shirley said, hanging her wet dishcloth over the edge of the sink.
“We did today,” Julia answered. “Some days are like that. Breakfast is usually our slowest meal.”
“You’ll do this all over again for lunch and supper?” Shirley asked. That’s how it had been at the Swaggerts’. As soon as she’d finished cleaning up after one meal, it had been time to start the next one.
“Yes. We’ll close for a few hours now and then again in the afternoon. If not, I’d have a room full of freeloaders sitting in the diner, doing nothing but staring across the street.”
“Why? What’s across the street?”
“Star’s Studio.” Julia opened one of the three refrigerators lined along the far wall. “I’ll fry you some ham and eggs now. How do you want your eggs?”
“You just cleaned the stove,” Shirley said, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to get it dirty just for me.”
“It’ll get dirty soon enough, anyway. I’ll have to make something to take up to the other girls.” Julia grinned. “I told Rosie to keep all of you girls out there until I sent word that the coast was clear.”
“I didn’t know that,” Shirley said. “The rest of them were still sleeping when I left.”
“I figured as much, and needed the help, so didn’t mind in the least.” She slapped a slice of ham on the stove and cracked open an egg. “Over easy?”
Shirley’s stomach had been growling for the last hour. The aromas had been the reason. That and she was hungry. “That will be fine. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Julia said, cracking a second egg. “Greta and I were just about drowning when you opened the door.”
“I’m glad I could help,” Shirley said. Then, because she truly wanted to know, she asked, “What’s Star’s Studio?”
Julia’s dark brows tugged together. “It’s a movie studio. Jack McCarney owns it and makes some of Hollywood’s best movies over there.”
“They make movies right in the middle of town?” Shirley wasn’t sure where she’d expected movies to be made, but it wasn’t in the middle of town. Then again, she’d never seen a movie, so knew very little about them.
“Yes, there are studios all over this part of the city.” Julia flipped the ham and eggs onto a plate. “Let’s go sit down.”
The front room of the diner was long and narrow, with tables and chairs, and a long counter with stools. The entire room was red, black and white, including the checkered floor. They sat at a table, and Greta carried over three cups of coffee.
“So you worked at CB’s,” Greta said, sitting down at the table.
Shirley could only nod because she’d poked a fork full of food into her mouth. It tasted so good compared to what she ate at CB’s.
“Roy Harrison con you into that?” Greta asked. “He tried that on me, but I’d heard to be wary of him and his two-bit contracts.”
The food turned cold in Shirley’s mouth, not so much at Greta’s words, but
