Waitress rushed to the little girl, who choked. A day later, she was afraid her father would sue he

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Seeing that the ambulance could not get here in time, the waitress rushed to help the little girl. A day later, when she saw her father, she got scared that he would sue her.

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Roxana saw off the last customer and, exhaling tiredly, sat down in a corner of the large hall.
Mornings usually saw fewer visitors in the café, and working with her partner, they had no trouble managing—taking orders, serving, fulfilling additional requests, accepting payments, and even finding time for breaks.
The waiters had a favorite spot near the bar for this purpose. It almost hid anyone sitting there while still allowing them to observe the hall and their customers.
Before settling into their secret resting place, Roxana gratefully cradled her coffee mug, smiling involuntarily.
The drink's surface bore a gently quivering foam with a skillfully drawn funny face—a greeting from Josh, the bartender, who had been not-so-subtly hinting at his interest in Roxana.
Josh's attraction was understandable. Many people were drawn to Roxana. Though not the kind of beauty that turned heads over heels, she possessed a special, light, and gentle girlish charm that often proved more potent than striking looks.
Roxana was petite and slender, with slightly reddish, fluffy hair, and golden eyebrows and eyelashes that seemed dusted with gold powder. Her brown eyes usually sparkled with cheer and curiosity.
Her small, neat, slightly upturned nose, barely speckled in winter, bloomed with golden freckles come spring.
These very freckles had been the source of Roxana's despair and worry until the end of school.
"What kind of face is this?!" she would lament to her mother and her mirror reflection. "It's like a freckled egg!"
"Oh dear!" her mother would chuckle. "You're just being silly. You'll grow up and realize how wonderful it is to have sunshine on your face!"