“I have to get back to work,” said Ryan. “But thanks anyway.”
“Come on,” Warren pressed. “You’re your own boss, who’s going to tell on you? At least come in and have a drink.”
Ryan caught Fred’s eye, frowning a little. “Do you mind us crashing your lunch?”
She smiled, edging toward the door of the restaurant. “Of course not.”
He gave anall right thenshrug. “Fancy a celebratory coffee, Mum?” he asked, moving to follow Fred.
“Lovely,” Martha replied.
Ryan reached the door first and held it open for the rest of them. Warren strode up to the maître d’s station.
“Hello there!” he greeted the tall, beautiful woman in an orange and yellow headscarf. “Warren Reeves, I’m the numpty who called because I’m late. And now I’m here in person to grovel for forgiveness. You don’t mind if our friends join us, do you?” He offered her a winning smile.
She laughed. “No groveling required, Mr. Reeves, and of course, that’s fine.” Then she caught sight of Fred.
“Freddie? Oh my god, I heard you were back in town!”
“She’s not back,” said Ryan. “She’s just perching.”
Fred rolled her eyes and elbowed him, smiling. “Hi, Cherry, it’s been a while.”
“It really has!”
“Hello, Cherry, my love,” said Martha, popping her head around Fred’s shoulder.
“Martha!” Cherry beamed. “Lovely to see you, how are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. How’s your gran getting on? She getting used to that new hip?”
“She’s like a new woman, all up in everyone’s business more than ever. You here for some lunch?”
“Just for coffee,” put in Ryan. “We’ll make ourselves scarce when their food arrives, or we’ll be jealous.”
Cherry laughed, her eyes twinkling. “No problem. We only serve Coast Roast Coffee here, is that okay for you?”
“I’ll struggle along with it.” Ryan grinned back.
Cherry led them to a table for four in the window, and they took their seats; Warren sat opposite Fred, and Martha sat next to her. The walls of the restaurant were painted a deep terra-cotta, and all around them were framed paintings of sandy beaches, palm trees and huge exotic flowers. They ordered coffee, and when Cherry handed them menus, Warren said, “Don’t worry about the menu, we’ll just take a selection of whatever starters you recommend and two of your signature dishes to share.”
Cherry cocked her head to one side. “You want me to choose your food for you?”
“Yes, please.” Warren smiled at her. “I’m writing a ‘places to eat in Pine Bluff’ piece for theDaily News, so I’d like to try the dishes you feel best showcase your restaurant. Surprise me.”
Fred cringed.
“O-kay,” Cherry said. “I’ll speak to the chef.”
When Cherry left, Ryan said quietly, “I hope lobster isn’ton the menu, or you guys are about to be hit with a massive bill.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Warren, pulling a Moleskine notebook and a pen out of his messenger bag. “Oh, well, with any luck we’ll get a discount because of the article thing.”
His flippancy made her squirm in her seat and she determined to pay full price for her meal, even if it did turn out to be lobster. She hardly dared look at Ryan for fear of what she’d see in his expression. He would most definitely be thinking that Warren was a bit of a twat.
For his part, Warren seemed completely oblivious. “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he addressed Martha, “but are you in fancy dress?”
Martha looked down, as though only just realizing what she was wearing, and laughed, straightening her Victorian-style mobcap. “I’m Mrs. Christmas, for some of the time at least. I spend so much time dashing between the hardware store and the grotto that it seems easier to keep the costume on. This has become my Christmas uniform. We were just on our way back from the bank when we saw you.”
