The Woman at Table Six

I've been working at Smith's Diner for about six months. It's your typical old-fashioned diner, with photographs on the walls, big red booths, black-and-white tiled floors, and an old jukebox.

The diner has been open since 1930. Generations of families have celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, and ordinary afternoons here. Seeing familiar faces isn't unusual.

But there's one customer I've always been curious about.

Every Thursday at exactly three o'clock, an elderly woman walks through the doors and sits at Table Six.

Her name is Charlotte Rose.

She always orders the same thing: two bowls of chicken and dumplings, two Cokes, and two fudge brownies.

What's peculiar is that Charlotte never touches the second meal. She just stares at it, occasionally glancing toward the entrance or checking her watch.

It's as though she's waiting for someone who never arrives.

I've served Charlotte several times. She's a lovely woman who calls everyone "dear" or "honey." She always pays her bill and leaves a generous tip.

There's something warm about her presence, but sometimes, when you speak to her, she stares into the distance, and a loneliness seems to settle over her.

I've never wanted to pry.

Finally, one Thursday afternoon, I decided to ask our longtime cook about her.

His name was Walter, although everyone called him Bubbles, a nickname he'd earned as a child because he loved blowing bubbles at people.

"Bubbles, do you have time for a story?" I asked.

He chuckled.

"You're curious about Miss Charlotte over there, ain't ya?"

I glanced through the kitchen window.

"Why does she come here every Thursday and order two meals?"

"April, grab yourself a seat. You're in for quite a story."

I sat beside him.

"Miss Charlotte's been coming here since she was twenty years old," he began.

"Now, I wasn't around for all of it. Smith's has been in the same family for generations, and the owners passed down stories about their regular customers. I've known Charlotte for years myself, though."

He smiled.

"Used to hear about how she'd stop in after teaching school and order herself a vanilla milkshake."

"She was quite the woman. Outgoing, friendly, never judged a soul. Had long blonde hair and the prettiest blue eyes."

"She had plenty of fellas trying to court her, but Charlotte wasn't interested. Until one afternoon, she spotted a young man sitting at Table Six."

"His name was Robert Paul. Everyone called him Robert, but Charlotte called him Rob."

"One of our old waitresses, Patty Sue, noticed Charlotte staring at him. Told her, 'Charlotte, go talk to that man!'"

I laughed.

"Well, Charlotte came back the next day wearing her finest red dress, black heels, and her hair all curled. Walked right over and introduced herself."

"That boy was smitten. Bought her two milkshakes, and they sat laughing for hours."

"After that, they were inseparable. Winter, spring, summer, or fall, they came here together. Rob always ordered chicken and dumplings with a Coke."

"About a year later, he got down on one knee, right here in front of everybody, and asked Charlotte to marry him."

"She said yes before he could finish!"

Bubbles laughed.

"Charlotte even came here after her wedding, still wearing her wedding dress. Spilled a chocolate milkshake right down the front. Most ladies would've been furious, but Charlotte just laughed."

"She loved that jukebox, too. Those two would dance for hours."

I looked toward Table Six.

"What happened to Rob?"

Bubbles' smile faded.

"April, just keep listening."

I nodded.

"About a year after they married, Charlotte announced she was expecting their first baby, Annalise. They had more children over the years, and every Thursday at three, the whole family came here for dinner."

"As the children grew older, they stopped coming. Eventually, they had families and lives of their own."

He paused.

"Now comes the sad part."

"Rob passed away about a year ago. He'd been sick for a long time, and Charlotte took care of him as best she could."

"But Charlotte's sick, too. She's got dementia."

My stomach sank.

"Some days, she remembers Rob's gone. Other days, she believes he's coming through those doors to meet her."

"That's why she orders two meals. She's waiting for the man she fell in love with all those years ago."

"Doesn't she have family?" I whispered.

"Her children send money, but they hardly ever visit. Thankfully, she's got a kind neighbor who checks on her and helps look after her."

Bubbles sighed.

"That woman spent her whole life loving everybody around her."

I looked through the kitchen window again.

Charlotte glanced at her watch.

By the time Bubbles finished, tears were rolling down my cheeks.

All this time, I'd thought Charlotte's routine was strange.

But she wasn't simply ordering an extra meal.

She was waiting for her love to find her.

A week passed.

Thursday arrived, and at exactly three o'clock, Charlotte Rose walked through the doors of Smith's Diner.

She settled into Table Six and ordered her usual meal.

Two bowls of chicken and dumplings.

Two Cokes.

Two fudge brownies.

I brought her order to the table, but this time, instead of walking away, I pulled out a chair.

"Miss Charlotte, would you mind if I joined you for dinner?"

She looked up, her blue eyes brightening.

"Why, of course, dear."

I smiled.

"Would it be all right if I came back next Thursday, too?"

Charlotte gently touched my hand.

"I'd like that very much, honey."

I excused myself for a moment and headed into the kitchen.

"Bubbles, could you make one more bowl of chicken and dumplings?"

He looked toward Table Six, then back at me.

A gentle smile spread across his face.

"Coming right up, April."

A few minutes later, I returned with my dinner and took the seat across from Charlotte.

And that afternoon, for the first time, there were three bowls of chicken and dumplings at Table Six.