There’s no time to reply because Colin appears from the back. He’s changed, even to kitchen clogs, and looks as giddy as a contestant who has won the lottery. “We’ll check at the end of dinner service to see if he’s still this happy,” I murmur, knowing that Merrie can be a tyrant.
Merrie just smiles then starts giving instructions. She’s a good teacher when she has the chance, and even I enjoy listening to her as she explains to Colin not only what he needs to do but why.
There’sa line when we open at four and things heat up in a hurry. Colin is bouncing around the kitchen with incredible speed, and already learning to anticipate Merrie. He barely even notices Sierra when she arrives for work, his attention is so fixed on Merrie.
Apparently, she’s the new center of his universe.
I explain Colin’s presence to Sierra, she shrugs and we get to work. She’s answering the phone now and checking reservations, which makes sense since she’s doing a lot of the seating. I need to serve all the alcohol so she’s been hostessing, but she’s also delivering food to tables when I can’t be in twoplaces at once. It works, though, and we have a good rhythm together.
“Mike’s coming,” Sierra announces some time later when she comes to pick up a trio of salads from the kitchen. “In forty-five minutes, he says.”
I’m proud of myself for not dropping the two bowls of soup I have balanced on my left hand. I even think I’ve hidden my reaction until I catch Merrie’s raised eyebrow. “Really?” I say, as if disinterested. I haven’t seen or heard from Mike all week, with the exception of a text message sharing our appointment with Daphne Bradshaw next Wednesday.
“Some kind of kinky date,” Sierra says, peering at the salads. “Which one has the mustard vinaigrette? They look the same.”
“No, they don’t look the same,” Merrie says. “You can see the balsamic on these two because it’s darker.”
“Oh, right.” Sierra loads up the plates, balancing one on her forearm in her latest trick.
“Kinky date?” I remind her and Merrie smirks before she turns back to the grill. Colin is oblivious to us in his determination to please Merrie.
“Table for three,” Sierra says, then sticks out her tongue. “If it’s two women, that’s just gross.”
“But not two men?”
She smiles at me and I wonder just what kind of books she’s been reading at night, her phone glowing under the covers.
“Table seven will be clear by then,” I call after her then heft the appetizers for table fourteen.
“Best table in the house,” Merrie muses. “How strange and unusual a choice.”
“He likes to sit with his back to the wall,” I reply, then realize after I’ve turned away that even that shows too much interest.
I ignore Merrie’s chuckle because that’s the best possible choice at this time.
I will not be happy that Mike is coming for dinner – not until I know what kind of kinky date it is.
Who am I kidding? I’m thrilled that Mike is coming for dinner.
Just knowing that I’ll see him again soon is enough to put a bounce in my step.
22
MIKE
The Carpe Diem Café is busy when we get there, so I’m glad I called ahead. Sierra shows us to that table in the front corner, that one with a lot of elbow room, and I’m glad of the extra space. Carson and Bryan are big guys, as tall as me. They’re not delicate little flowers who can perch on a barstool while they eat a substantial meal. After a good game like the one we had today, we’re all famished.
Carson is sniffing the air with obvious anticipation and Bryan is looking around as he takes off his coat. They want to know when the café opened – i.e., how long they’ve been missing out – and I tell them a bit about it as we get settled. Bryan claims one seat against the wall of windows, the one that gives him a better vantage of the street, the door and the restaurant as a whole. Bryan always needs to see all the women. I sit beside him and Carson, who will be all about food so long as he’s here, sits opposite Bryan. I’m not sure how I’ll decide what to try tonight, then Sierra slides into the empty seat across from me.
“Mike,” she says in an undertone, her gaze boring into mine. “We have a problem.”
My daughter. My heart squeezes so tightly that I can’t even breathe.
“Kitchen ran out of food,” Carson suggests.
“No more beer,” Bryan offers and they grin at each other.
Sierra gives them a hostile glance, which doesn’t visibly trouble either of them. “This is a private conversation,” she informs them, frost dripping from her tone.
