FREYA'S POV
My feet ached inside my worn canvas sneakers because I had been standing behind the counter at Carl's Diner for ten straight hours. I picked up a damp cloth and wiped the sticky breakfast syrup off the laminated wood surface while the overhead ceiling fan circulated the smell of fried bacon and strong coffee around the small room. I tossed the cloth into the stainless steel sink behind the counter and leaned against the cold metal refrigerator to rest my legs for a brief moment.
Carl walked out of the kitchen holding a large cardboard box full of fresh paper napkins, and he placed the box on the floor next to the electronic cash register.
"You look completely exhausted today, Freya," Carl said while he adjusted the straps of his white apron.
"I am tired because I worked the closing shift last night, and I had to open the diner this morning," I replied. "I need the extra hours to pay my monthly bills, so I cannot complain about the heavy work schedule."
"You work too hard for a twenty-three-year-old woman, but I greatly appreciate your dedication to this restaurant," Carl said. He reached under the counter and handed me a sealed white envelope. "The mail carrier dropped this envelope off for you an hour ago. The return address belongs to the primary debt collection agency."
I took the envelope from his hand, and my stomach muscles physically tightened because I knew exactly what the letter contained. I tore the top edge off the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of thick paper. The bold black letters at the top of the page stated it was a final warning notice, and the total amount due at the bottom of the page was four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. My parents acquired this massive debt when their small logistics company was forced into bankruptcy by a larger corporate entity five years ago, and the financial responsibility fell to me after they both passed away in a car accident shortly after the bankruptcy was finalized.
"Is the news bad?" Carl asked while he watched my facial expression.
"The collection agency gave me exactly thirty days to submit a payment of ten thousand dollars, or they will initiate legal action against me to garnish my wages," I said while I folded the paper and shoved it deep into the front pocket of my denim jeans. "I currently have exactly four hundred dollars in my checking account, so I do not know how I will find the rest of the money before the deadline."
"I can give you a financial advance on your next paycheck if you need it, although I can only spare a few hundred dollars right now," Carl offered generously.
"I appreciate your offer, but I will figure out a way to handle this situation myself," I told him because I refused to take money from a man who was already struggling to keep his own business operational. I valued my independence above everything else, and I strongly hated relying on other people for assistance.
The brass bell attached to the top of the front door rang loudly, and I looked up to see my favorite customer walking into the diner. Thomas was a man in his late sixties who always wore faded flannel shirts and scuffed brown boots. He visited the diner every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, and he always sat in the exact same corner booth near the large front window. I did not know his last name or his current occupation, but I enjoyed his company because he was consistently polite and he always asked about my daily life.
I grabbed a clean ceramic mug from the shelf and filled it with hot black coffee before I walked across the room to his booth.
"Good afternoon, Thomas," I said as I placed the steaming mug on the table directly in front of him. "Do you want to order your usual slice of cherry pie today, or do you want to look at the printed menu?"
Thomas smiled and took a slow sip of the hot coffee. "I will gladly take the cherry pie, Freya. You always remember exactly what I want to eat, and that is why you are the best waitress in this entire city."
"I remember your order because you have ordered the exact same food every week for the past two years," I replied and pulled a small paper notepad out of my apron pocket. "I will tell Carl to cut a large slice for you, and I will bring the dessert out in a few minutes."
"Please sit down with me for a moment before you return to the kitchen," Thomas requested while he gestured toward the empty vinyl seat across from him. "The diner is completely empty right now, so you have enough time to take a short break."
I looked around the room and confirmed that he was the only customer inside the building. I slid into the booth across from him and placed my hands flat on the table.
"You look highly stressed today, and you usually have a very positive attitude when I see you," Thomas observed. He placed his mug down and looked directly at my face. "Did something negative happen to you recently?"
"I received a very demanding letter from a debt collection agency this morning, and the financial situation is causing me a significant amount of anxiety," I admitted because I felt comfortable talking to him about my personal problems. "I owe a massive amount of money to a bank, and I simply do not earn enough money at this waitressing job to pay the remaining balance."
"Financial problems are incredibly difficult to manage, but you are a smart and resilient young woman," Thomas said. "You will eventually find a practical solution to your problem, or a solution might unexpectedly present itself to you when you least expect it."
"I do not believe in unexpected miracles, Thomas. I believe in hard work and logical solutions," I stated firmly. "I plan to request more shifts from Carl, and I will find a second job on the weekends to increase my total income."
"You cannot work every single hour of the day because your physical health will eventually fail," Thomas warned me. "You must allow other people to help you when you are facing a severe crisis."
"The wealthy corporate executives who ruined my parents' lives did not offer any help when my family lost everything," I replied, and my voice became slightly louder because I still felt angry about the past injustice. "Wealthy people only care about increasing their own bank accounts, and they do not care who they destroy in the process. I will never rely on anyone else, and I will certainly never accept help from anyone who belongs to the upper class."
Thomas looked down at his coffee mug for a long time before he spoke again. "Your perspective is completely understandable, Freya. However, you might judge certain people too harshly based on your past experiences. Some wealthy individuals genuinely want to improve the world, even if their methods are highly unconventional."
"I highly doubt that statement is true," I said and stood up from the booth. "I need to go to the kitchen and get your pie now."
I walked away from the table and pushed the swinging wooden door to enter the kitchen. The air inside the kitchen was hot because the large gas grill was turned on, and I wiped a line of sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. I walked over to the stainless steel sink and washed my hands with antibacterial soap and warm water for twenty seconds because health regulations required strict hygiene. I dried my hands with a paper towel and threw the used towel into the plastic trash can. I retrieved a white ceramic plate from the upper cabinet and walked over to the refrigerated dessert display case. I opened the glass door and used a metal spatula to transfer a large piece of cherry pie onto the plate. I walked over to the commercial freezer, opened the heavy door, and used a metal scoop to extract a large ball of vanilla ice cream from a cardboard container. I added the scoop of vanilla ice cream to the side of the pie on the plate because I knew Thomas enjoyed the combination of hot and cold temperatures.
I picked up the plate and walked back into the main dining area. Thomas was looking out the front window, and he seemed deep in thought. I placed the plate in front of him, and he thanked me before picking up his metal fork.
"I have a very serious question to ask you, Freya," Thomas said after he swallowed his first bite of the food. "What would you do with your life if you suddenly acquired five million dollars today?"
I frowned at the ridiculous question because I knew I would never possess that massive amount of money. "I would immediately pay off my parents' debt so the collection agencies would stop harassing me. After that task was complete, I would rent a commercial building in the downtown district and open my own community bakery. I want to bake affordable food for the people in this neighborhood, and I want to teach cooking classes to teenagers who need a safe place to go after school."
"That is a very noble and specific goal," Thomas noted while he took another bite of the pie. "You are not interested in buying expensive clothes or traveling to luxurious vacation destinations?"
"I have absolutely no interest in those frivolous things," I answered honestly. "I only want financial stability and the opportunity to run my own business without interference from outside corporate investors."
"Your answer confirms everything I already believed about your character," Thomas said quietly, although he seemed to be speaking to himself rather than directly to me.
I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant by that strange statement, but a sudden loud noise interrupted our conversation. The heavy glass front door of the diner was shoved open with extreme physical force, and it slammed loudly against the interior wall.
I turned around quickly and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man walk into the building. He wore a dark, perfectly tailored suit that looked incredibly expensive, and his dark hair was styled immaculately. A second man wearing a simple grey suit walked in directly behind him and closed the door.
The first man looked around the diner with an expression of absolute disgust on his face, and his sharp, cold eyes finally locked onto Thomas.
"Who is responsible for serving food in this unhygienic, dilapidated establishment?" the man demanded in a deep, authoritative voice that echoed across the completely silent room.