A Room With A View

Chapter Forty-Two - Madeline

November 14th, Tuesday

Madeline couldn't keep the smile from her face. She hummed the title song from her musical as she swiped a towel across a vacant table at Cafe Clark.

"Can you be true, if I love you, Julian." Madeline sang the last words allowed, using the water glass as a microphone.

"Someone's in a good mood," Len said, coming up behind her.

"Yes," Madeline enthused.

Len folded her arms over her chest. "Is this a 'I just had sex good mood' or something else?"

"No!" Madeline sputtered. She hid behind the water glass, her cheeks hot. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a lazy grin spread itself across Len's face.

"Then what is it?" Len asked.

"Something else." Madeline bit her lip. She waited, wanting to savor the moment.

Len rolled her eyes and sighed. "Tell me, I beg you," she said, in the most monotone voice imaginable.

"I got the part!" Madeline said.

Len threw her arms around Madeline. "Congratulations! I knew you'd get it!" she shouted into Madeline's hair.

"Here give me this," Len said, stepping back. She took the towel and glass from Madeline. "You are a star," she said in a fake French accent, "and no star should wipe ze tables of a cafe."

A laugh bubbled up in Madeline's throat, but quickly sputtered out. Sheldon was staring at the two of them from the host stand. He did not look pleased.

"I think I do need to wipe ze tables of the cafe," Madeline said out of the corner of her mouth.

Len nodded and mutely handed back the towel, hurrying off to tend to a customer.

Madeline paused, towel in hand. She had just learned about the part last night. The audition Patricia had set her up with had gone incredibly well. Madeline had never felt so completely alive. It had been like the music was coming through her. But of course, she had to credit Terri, her singing coach, for that. There was no way Madeline would've been able to score the part without Terri. She'd have to send Terri flowers. Or chocolate. Something special to tell her just how much her efforts were appreciated.

"Something on your mind?"

It was Sheldon. Madeline snapped back into her body and stared at him.

"N-no," she said. She didn't know why Sheldon made her nervous. Perhaps it was the way he looked down at her from the tip of his long, narrow nose. Like the food critic from Ratatouille.

"Then you should be able to clean the tables, yes?" he asked.

Madeline nodded. She vigorously rubbed at the table, feeling Sheldon's eyes boring into her back, and moved onto the next one. It was between the breakfast and lunch rush, so Madeline had been sent to table duty, since she wasn't needed at the host stand. She didn't mind the work when Dennis was manager, but with Sheldon it just felt demeaning.

Sheldon stepped away, his focus elsewhere, and Madeline breathed a sigh of relief. She finished wiping the tabletop and moved away toward the kitchen. Cyrus was on the line, and he always knew when she needed a deep-fried Oreo pick-me-up.

"You're early," Cyrus said, seeing Madeline walk into the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" She dropped the towel into the bucket of cleaning solution by the door. It splashed and scattered droplets of water all across the orange tile.