Our regular sat alone at a table decked out with birthday decorations, waiting for a family that never showed. What started as a heartbreaking moment became something unforgettable for everyone at the café. I walked into the café like every morning—keys in one hand, apron in the other.
The air smelled of fresh cinnamon rolls and strong coffee. It was early. Only two tables were taken.
Quiet. Then I saw her. Loretta sat at the big round table by the window, the one we saved for birthdays or groups.
Pink streamers hung from the edges. An unopened cake box sat by her purse. A small vase held fake roses.
The decorations looked like they’d been there a while. And she was alone. Loretta had been coming to the café almost every day since I started working here.
Eight years. I was just out of high school then, still figuring out how to froth milk properly. She always sat in the same booth.
Most days, Loretta came with her two grandkids—Elliot and Nora. They were sweet but loud, always bickering over pastries. Loretta never minded.
She kept tissues in her purse, small toys in her bag, and extra napkins ready. They weren’t mean, just kids. But their mom?
I never liked how she rushed in and out. Never sat down. Just dropped the kids off with a quick “Thanks, Mom” and left.
We saw it all the time. Every week. Sometimes more.
“Morning, Loretta,” I said, walking over slowly. “Happy birthday.”
She turned to me. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Thanks, Florence,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember.”
“You waiting for your family?” I asked gently. She paused, then said softly, “I invited them.
But they must be busy.”
My heart sank. I nodded, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry,” I managed.
She shook her head, brushing off the sadness. “It’s okay. They’ve got lives.
The kids have school. Their parents work. You know how it is.”
Yeah.
I knew. She deserved better. I went to the back room, sat for a moment, and stared at the floor.
This wasn’t right. Not after all the time she gave. Not on her birthday.
I got up and headed to the manager’s office. Elton was at his desk, typing on his laptop. His shirt was too tight, and he smelled like energy drinks.
“Hey, Elton,” I said. He didn’t look up. “You’re late.”
“By two minutes.”
He shrugged.
“Still late.”
I let it go. “Can I ask you something?”
He glanced at me. “What?”
“It’s Loretta’s birthday.
Her family didn’t come. She’s alone out there. Can we do something?
Maybe sit with her? It’s slow this morning. We’d get up if customers came.”
He squinted.
“No.”
“No?”
“We’re not a charity. If you’ve got time to chat, you’ve got time to clean.”
I stared at him. “She’s been coming here forever.
It’s her birthday. No one showed.”
“That’s not our problem,” he said. “Do it, and you’re fired.”
I stood there, silent for a second.
Then I turned and walked out. That’s when I saw Gideon coming in from the back, apron already on. He looked at me.
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