Title: The Breakfast Nook

Author: J.D. Rush

Series: Big Things; follows "We're Moving On Up"

Rating: PG, if that. (More for sappiness than anything else.)

Summary: It's the most important meal of the day.

Spoiler: Nothing except for Big Things references.

Disclaimer: This gets tricky. Frohike, Scully, and Billy belong to the usual suspects. I'd say Maddie belongs to me, but she belongs to herself. Either way, CC can't make claims on her.

Author's Note: This story has been altered from its original form for personal reasons.

The Breakfast Nook

Wednesday, June 26, 2002

"Maddie, table six," my pal Jennie called out, adding with a smirk, "your favorite customers." Since she didn't say it sarcastically, I assumed she meant it literally, and I could already feel a smile crossing my face.

I had been working at the Breakfast Nook for a couple of years, much longer than I expected. Originally, it was just supposed to be a morning part-time job to help supplement my income-- college doesn't come cheap, you know--and you'd be amazed how much you can pick up on tips just from the morning breakfast rush. No one was more surprised than I was to discover that I actually LIKED the work. Okay, maybe not the work, but I did like the people. 

Our customers were, for the most part, regulars. In the summer, we got some tourists that passed through, but generally, it was the same familiar faces day after day. You got to know them by name, not just their favorite entrée. Many were seniors, who liked to talk about their families or current events or reminisce about their pasts. And the management encouraged us to spend time with the patrons--not just throw the food at them and kick them out quickly to get in a new batch of diners. Their philosophy was to create a friendly, family atmosphere, one that would entice customers to come back. It was a much slower pace than most restaurants, and one I thoroughly enjoyed.

That was one of the reasons why those two were so conspicuous when they wandered in that Sunday morning three weeks ago--you just naturally noticed strangers when they came into the place. And those two were definitely 'strange'.

They might have been coming back from church, or perhaps on their way there. The woman was dressed in a simple light-weight cotton summer dress, very neat and classy. The man was dressed. . .well. . .more like a bank robber, I guess--black pants and a short-sleeve maroon Henley shirt, and even in the early summer heat, he was wearing a black leather vest and a pair of fingerless gloves. Very peculiar. Normally I don't memorize what people wear into the restaurant, but it's hard to forget something like that. 

At first, I thought that perhaps they had just entered the place simultaneously--they just happened to both be coming in at the same time, with no connection to each other. But that theory was quickly dispelled when the hostess seated them together. . .at one of my tables. I grabbed a pot of fresh coffee and a couple of menus, and made my way over to them.

"Good morning! My name is Maddie, and I'll be your server today," I said as perkily as I could without making myself nauseating. After handing them each a menu, I held up the pot. "Would you both like some coffee?"

"That would be nice," the lady answered politely. Up close, I could see she was rather attractive. Not drop-dead gorgeous or overly pretty but. . .attractive. It's hard to put into words, I guess. She had very unique features, not really what's considered a raving beauty. But with her flaming red hair and bright blue eyes, she was quite striking.

"And a glass of o.j. for me, thanks," responded her companion. Getting a good look at him, I was even more mystified that these two were sitting together. He was somewhat, well. . .homely. . .if I'm going to be honest. Short, stocky, with perhaps a day's growth of beard on his baggy cheeks; his thinning, graying hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, like a refugee from the 60's.   But he had laughing hazel eyes behind those thick wirerimmed lenses, and there was this air of, I don't know, SOMETHING about him that I found intriguing.  

A very odd couple indeed.

I flipped over the cups on the table and filled each of them with hot coffee, then left the pair alone so they could peruse the menu. When I returned a few minutes later with a glass of orange juice, they were ready to order. 

I quickly learned that her name was Dana and his was Frohike--or at least that's what he wanted me to call him. By the end of the meal, I had also discovered that they had recently moved into the neighborhood and that they had a son named William, who was staying with his grandmother for the weekend. In fact, they were on their way to go pick him up, and take the elder lady out for her birthday.

It's amazing what you can learn from just a few well-worded questions.

As they were getting ready to leave, I thanked them for their business, ending with a chipper, "Hope we'll see you again."

"You can bet on it," Frohike had replied with a smile. "The food was great, and the service wasn't so bad, either," a teasing tone to his voice. Only after they left did I notice that they had left a substantial tip--$3.00 on a $10.00 tab.

You don't forget things like that.

True to their word, they were back the next Sunday, with perhaps the cutest little boy I had ever seen. If I didn't already know Dana and Frohike were married, I probably would have assumed he was Frohike's grandson. When they had said they had a child, I was thinking more along the lines of a grade-schooler. . . certainly not a baby! He couldn't have been much more than a year old, if that. This couple just kept getting more and more fascinating.

When I brought over a highchair for the boy and helped him get settled in, I was rewarded with a huge four-tooth grin. I'm not big on babies, but this one was absolutely adorable, and so well behaved. I've had brats old enough to know better running around like animals while their parents just look away, pretending not to notice the little monsters. But Billy just sat there, laughing and basking in his parents' affections. If I could be guaranteed to have one like him, I'd have a dozen. Well, okay, maybe not. But still, he was a cutie.

The only thing is, Billy didn't look much like Frohike. The nose, the face, the freckles--they were all Dana. But the other features. . .let's just say I got the feeling that Frohike wasn't the father. My suspicions were only confirmed when they told me they had been married less than a year, and it was plain to see Billy was way older than that. But even if he wasn't Frohike's child, you'd never know it by the way Frohike interacts with him. It's so obvious that Billy is the center of Frohike's universe. He's always playing with the boy or talking to him. Dana plays with him, too, but many times, she'd just sit back and watch her boys go at it, a contented, peaceful smile on her face. 

That week, I found out a little more about the pair.  Dana worked as a teacher at Quantico--she was enjoying her last few days of vacation before classes started in a couple of weeks. As for Frohike, he was a journalist for an independent newspaper called 'The Magic Bullet'. And from what I could understand, he also played 'Mr. Mom', watching over Billy during the day while Dana was at work.

As Lewis Carroll would say, 'curiouser and curiouser'. 

The trio made another appearance the next Sunday, officially making them 'regulars'.   I was quite pleased when they specifically asked for me. They could have sat anywhere, but they wanted to be at one of my tables. It made me feel good, like I was doing my job well; and besides, it gave me yet another chance to snoop, and try to figure out what made that family tick. Once again, they ordered the same thing--for Dana, the fresh fruit cup and an English muffin while Frohike went to town on the Lumberjack Special (eggs, sausage, homefries. . .a cardiologist's wet dream). I found it amazing that such a small man could put away that much food. And each week, Dana would kinda crinkle her nose at his choice, but wouldn't say anything. Baby Billy got to enjoy the best of both worlds, as Dana and Frohike would share bits of their meals with him.  

That day, along with yet another generous tip, Frohike also left me a copy of the latest issue of "The Magic Bullet". It was. . .unusual, to say the least. Some of the articles were WAY out there, but I was impressed at how exhaustively researched and well-written they were and I read the issue, cover to cover. 

I was looking forward to discussing some of the articles with Frohike, and now it seemed like I was going to get my chance--a few days earlier than expected. Since they had only been weekend customers up to that point, I was curious what was up. So I grabbed my usual pot of coffee and two menus (even though I knew their order by heart) and made my way over to table six, only to find a mystery awaiting me. . .

Frohike and William were sitting there, but no Dana.

While temporarily thrown, I quickly recovered. "Hey guys, on your own today?" I joked, pouring one cup of coffee, then handing a menu to Frohike. I couldn't help noticing that he had finally made a concession to the summer heat wave that was sweeping through the area. The gloves and black leather were gone, replaced with a blue novelty tee shirt that said 'Microsoft Bytes' and a pair of knee-length cut-off jean shorts. 

"Hiya, Maddie," Frohike greeted me with a grin. "Yeah, Dana had an early morning staff meeting. She was gone before we even woke up. So it's just a boys' day out, eh, buddy?" He tenderly stroked Billy's hair, earning a big smile from the child

"Why does that sound dangerous?" I teased.

"Now you're starting to sound like my wife," he teased back. "I'll have you know I'm not THAT bad."

"Oh, I don't know. I've heard some of the stories about you, remember?"

"Dana tends to exaggerate," he feebly defended himself. "To hear her talk, you'd think I was in trouble all the time."

I gave him a knowing look. "Andddd. . .?"

He smirked sheepishly and fairly begged, "Um, can we drop this subject?" 

"Sure thing," I laughed as I took out my order pad. "The usual, right?"

"Actually, I was thinking of something different today," he commented, opening the menu. "I'm in the mood to be adventurous."

"Now I'm REALLY scared!"

He just sort of looked over his glasses at me and glared. "Keep that up, and I may be less than forthcoming with a tip this time, young lady." Too bad his smile ruined the threat.

"I'll keep that in mind. Still want some o.j.?"

"Yeah, I need all my energy to keep up with the kid. He really keeps me on my toes."

"Oh, I can't believe this little angel could cause any trouble."

"You just don't know him well enough," Frohike groused, playfully. "Since he's started walking, he's a terror. I swear he gets into EVERYTHING!"

Chuckling, I leaned over the table and gave Billy's tummy a tickle. "If you promise to be a good boy, I'll get you something special," I told him. He giggled and bashfully ducked his head towards his father. 

So freaking cute!

While Frohike was pouring over the menu, I went off to make up their drinks. For Billy, I mixed a little bit of strawberry syrup into his milk--not much, just enough to give him a treat--and poured it into a covered plastic cup with a bendy straw. When I got back to the table, Frohike was busy trying to tie Billy's bib around his neck. Billy was oblivious--he was too interested in playing with his Blue's Clues puppy.   

"Anything strike you?" I asked Frohike, placing the juice in front of him, and putting Billy's cup on his highchair tray. The child immediately picked it up and starting slurping away, merrily.

"As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to try The Sopranos' Supremo," Frohike decided, handing me the closed menu.

"You're a brave man, Frohike," I chuckled, writing down his order. "Do you even have a clue what you're getting into?"

"Not one iota," he admitted.

"That's probably for the best. And for the little one?"

"Maybe he can share mine--put some hair on his chest."

"I wouldn't want to be the one who has to explain to Dana why her baby suddenly has a hairy chest," I quipped. 

"Hmmm. . .you might have a point there," he admitted. "Can you whip up something for him?"

"Anything in particular?"

"I dunno. Something he'll like. I trust you, Maddie."

My heart actually fluttered when he said that. Though I didn't know him that well, something told me his trust was not something he gave easily--especially in regards to his son.   "Challenge accepted," I announced, flashing them both a friendly smile, then headed off to the kitchen to place their order. 

While I waited for it to come up, I puttered around--stacking napkins, filling the creamers and the maple syrup servers, and generally doing the dozens of little things that have to be done to keep a restaurant running smoothly. But in between, I watched the boys--I couldn't help it. I could never get over how much Frohike loved that baby, how attentive he was to his child's needs. It was just so sweet and touching.

And it wasn't only Billy that got that kind of attention from Frohike, either--Dana was usually also a recipient, although she didn't always know it. Sometimes I noticed that he'd watch her as she ate, a look of utter devotion and love on his face. Once, she lifted her eyes at just the right moment and caught him in the act--he immediately looked away, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She just smiled shyly, and went back to her meal. 

God, I wonder what it's like to have a man look at you like that.

That was something else I'd discovered over the past couple of weeks--how obvious it was that Dana and Frohike really loved each other. At first glance, they might appear a strange pair, but spend any time with them, and you see how perfectly matched they were. The way he could make her laugh, the way she could make him smile. They were always teasing each other, almost like best friends instead of husband and wife. They were so much fun to watch, and I couldn't help but be a little envious. It must be nice to be involved in a relationship like that. I'd love to find out how they met, what brought them together. Maybe Frohike was writing some story about the F.B.I. Or maybe Dana was investigating a case that somehow involved Frohike. Then again, they could have just been set up on a blind date. Give me another couple of weeks. . . I'll figure it out eventually.

"Maddie, pick up."

I was snapped out of my musings by Louie, the cook. I took the plates from him, and after one look at Frohike's dish, I started chuckling again. The Sopranos' Supremo was Louie's own creation: a pepperoni, sausage, pepper and onion omelet, smothered in tomato sauce, and topped with melted mozzarella cheese. It smelled delicious, but I wouldn't eat one on a dare--at least not at nine in the morning. 

As for Billy, I took his baby-sized Belgium waffle, added a few banana slices, sprayed it with a little whipped cream and topped it with some chocolate sprinkles. (And a cherry, of course.)

When I laid the plates down on the table, I thought Frohike's eyes were going to bug out of his head. "Oh my God," he groaned. "What have I done?" 

"Good luck, pal," I kidded him. "You're going to need it.

"Um, is it too late to change my order?" he asked, eyeing the concoction on his dish.

"You're the one who wanted to be adventurous, remember?" Meanwhile, Billy had dropped his stuffed animal and was attempting to get to his waffle.

"Maybe we can just switch," Frohike debated, looking back and forth between the two plates. "You think Billy would like this omelet?"

"Two words--hairy chest," I reminded him. Just then, Billy let out a frustrated high-pitched grunt, his tiny hand mere inches from his plate, but unable to reach.

"Guess the decision's been made, huh?" With that, he cut up a piece of the waffle into tiny bites and passed them to the child; Billy grabbed one and shoved it into his mouth, granting us both a huge grin. "And it passes the test," Frohike commented. "Thanks, Maddie--it looks great."

"No problem. If you need anything, just yell."

Taking one final glance at his own plate, he muttered, "You guys sell Rolaids here?" 

"I'll see what I can do for you," I snickered as I headed off to wait on one of my other tables.

I checked back with them periodically over the next half-hour or so. Billy put quite a dent in his waffle--he ate about half of it, along with all the banana slices. And despite his initial reluctance, Frohike scarfed down the entire omelet. (Gee, maybe Billy IS Frohike's son after all. They certainly both have the same appetite.) When it was obvious they were both finished, I sidled up to the table. "Still need those Rolaids?" I joked.

"Nope, I'm fine," he grinned. "And my compliments to the chef. That was excellent."

"Louie will be pleased to hear it," I replied as I cleared off the table. Balancing the plates in one hand, I reached into my apron pocket with the other and handed Frohike a couple of wet-wipes to clean up Billy--the kid was a mess!

"Thanks--you're a doll," he enthused, ripping open one of the packets and shaking out the towelette.

"Just doing my job. Can I get you anything else?"

He chuckled at that. "Are you kiddin'? I'm stuffed. Just the bill will be fine."

"You got it. Be right back." It only took me a couple of minutes to dump off the plates in the kitchen and add up the tab. By the time I returned to the table, Billy was relatively clean, and Frohike was staring out the window, a contemplative look on his face. Not wanting to disturb him in case he was composing a story in his mind or something, I just dropped the check on the table and said, "I'll pick it up when you're ready."

At the sound of my voice, he turned his gaze from the window to look at me. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" he asked.

Truthfully, I hadn't really noticed--my shift starts at six in the morning, so it's hard to judge. But since he asked, glanced out the window; the sun was shining, and the sky was clear, cloudless blue. A perfect summer day. "Yeah," I sighed wistfully. "Gorgeous."

"Much too nice to be at work," he commented.

"You can say that again." Good thing my shift was over in a couple of hours--at least I'd get to enjoy part of it.

"Know what? I think I'm gonna play hooky," Frohike confided. "I deserve a day off. Maybe I'll take Billy to the park or something." 

"I think he'd love that," I agreed. "Or maybe the zoo--something outside."

"What would you do on a day like this, Maddie?" he inquired, curiously.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Oh, I don't know. Go to the beach, maybe. Or window shopping downtown." Realizing that a couple of guys wouldn't be interested in either of those things, I added, "My former boyfriend would say it's a perfect day for baseball."

His eyes lit up when I said that. "You know, that's a fantastic idea. Are the Orioles playing at Camden today?"

"Not sure--let me check." I went and got one of the spare newspapers we leave hanging around for our patrons, and brought back the sports page for him. As he was checking it out, I asked, "Has Billy ever been to a ball game before?"

"Uh-uh, and I think it's high time he got to one, don't you?" He didn't let me answer, instead letting go with an exuberant 'whoop'. "Yup, they're in town, and playing the Yankees at 1:00." Turning to Billy, he said, "That'll give us just enough time to get home, changed up, and drive out to the park." He picked up the check, then took out his wallet and handed me a ten and a five.

"I'll be right back with your change," I told him.

"Keep it," he replied, already hauling Billy out of the high chair.

My mouth almost hit the floor. . .that was WAY beyond the customary 15%, or even his usual generous amount. "But. . ." I started to say, but he cut me off.

"Hey, no buts," he smiled, slipping Billy into his stroller. "You made my little boy happy today--you deserve it."

I didn't quite know what to say, so I just stammered, "Thank. . .thank you."

"You're welcome, hon. Enjoy the day," and they were off.

As I was folding up the newspaper to return it to the communal rack, I was joined by our busboy, Mickey. Well, I guess 'busboy' is rather misleading--Mickey is actually a 68-year-old retiree. He's a good friend of the owners and works part time at the restaurant, "to keep myself young" he jokes. Placing his bin on the table, he stated, "They're good people."

"Yes, they certainly are," I concurred, helping him clean the table. As we moved the highchair, however, I noticed Billy's stuffed puppy on the floor--they had been in such a hurry, they probably didn't even realize they had left it behind. I picked it up, planning on keeping it safe until they came back on Sunday. But when I went to drop it into the 'lost and found' box, I happened to glance out the window and noticed Frohike was standing at the corner, probably waiting for the light to change.  Since they lived only a short distance from the restaurant, it was apparent that they hadn't bothered taking the car on such a beautiful day. Knowing how much Billy would miss his toy, I ran out the front door, hoping to catch up with them.

"Frohike! Frohike! Wait up!"

About to push the stroller off the curb, he stopped and turned around. When he saw it was me, he smiled. "Looking for more money?" he teased.

"Actually, you forgot this," I explained, slightly out of breath, and handed him the puppy. "Figured Billy would miss him."

"Blue! Blue!" Billy cried out happily as Frohike leaned over and gave him the doll. 

"Jeez, thanks, Maddie. The little fella would've made my life a living hell without his favorite toy. I owe you one." 

"No problem--have a great time at the game, guys."

"We will." And with a final disarming smile, he started pushing the stroller across the street. 

I watched them for a couple of moments, thinking what a lucky woman Dana was, and wondering if she had any idea how blessed she was before I turned around and headed back to work.

THE END