"And get some rest," Gina added on my behalf.
"Yes, Mom," I teased. "Lucky it's Sunday. We can all have a couple of days to rest."
"Don't think I won't be checking up on you." Gina peered out into the sitting area as the bell above the door tinkled. "We've got company." She drew out the last word ominously, but grinned and sashayed out to greet our customers.
"She's right, you know," Erin told me as she started to wash the vegetables. "Those boyfriends of yours keeping you up too late?"
"Maybe they are." I turned back to making the lasagne. "Before that, you would have told me I wasn't getting enough attention."
She laughed. "That's true. Who needs middle ground anyway? I'm happy for you. Have all the orgasms." After a moment she added, "Can I live vicariously through you?"
"Can I stop you?" I placed the last of the lasagne sheets on the rack and started to clean the flour off the counter.
"Now you mention it—" She glanced over at me and grinned.
I flicked a handful of flour in her direction, not getting it within a foot of her. Instead, it sprinkled to the floor. Lucky for me, my knife skills were better than my flour-flicking skills.
She laughed until she realized who was going to be the one to clean that up.
"You suck," she said affectionately.
It was my turn to grin. "I have my moments. I could make a bigger mess if you like?"
"Is now the time to tell you that you have flour all of your face?" She cocked her head at me.
"I do not," I protested.
I glanced at my reflection in the stainless steel backsplash. Sure enough, I had a smear of flour across my forehead and another down my cheek.
Erin giggled. "Told you so."
Being the mature, professional I was, I stuck out my tongue at her before washing my hands in the other sink and wiping my face with a cloth, ignoring her amusement.
"See, this is what I like about working here," she said after a couple of minutes. "Who else would let us joke around the way you do?"
"Good point," I said. "I should run a tighter ship from now on." I waved the cloth in her direction. "No more laughing. No more joking. Not even smiling."
I struggled to hold back a smile of my own.
"Good luck with that," Gina said, pinning an order to the board. "We wouldn't last fifteen minutes."
"That sounds like a challenge." I took a quick look at the orders before starting to put them together.
"If I last an hour without doing any of those things, can I get a pay raise?" Erin asked.
"See?" I said without taking my eyes from Gina. "Erin can't even last a minute without making a joke."
I flicked a quick smile over in her direction to show I was teasing. Both of them were already paid above the usual wage. What Gina got in tips was extra, not a subsidy.
Of course, living in New York City, she needed every cent she got. Erin too. If I could give them more without it looking suspicious, I would. It was better they didn't know how much money I had sitting aside. If they knew, they'd ask all sorts of questions I wasn't going to answer.
Erin pouted, but she was still smiling. She had it good here and she knew it. She could certainly do a lot worse. That reminded me of Granger Fairfield and his associates.
And those photos.
I glanced down at Erin's shoes and froze.
Okay, it had to be a coincidence. Hundreds of people had the same kind of shoes. Thousands. They were as generic as they came.
