She shakes her head. “I’m new, remember?”
“Oliver’s…well, you’ll meet him soon enough.”
“Okay. And what’s down there?” she presses.
Liam smiles in a flirty way. “Guess we’ll find out. C’mon, new girl, let’s get to work.”
“They finally broke through the basement door,” reports Eduardo, when he reenters Canton’s a few hours later. The restaurant is closed due to the construction, so Taylor and the others busy themselves polishing glasses, refilling salt and pepper shakers, folding napkins. Readying for next week’s crowd, which will consist of members returning from the retreat, though there ismore than enough time to prepare. There’s a different energy in the air, almost like it’s an unexpected day off from school. Every so often, when Rose slips away to check on the basement progress, Jerry sneaks down behind her.
“Fucking dusty as hell,” adds Jerry, a little while later, upon his return. “Hard to tell what it is. Some sort of room.”
“Doyouwant to have a look?” Eduardo asks Taylor, who gives an adamant “No.”
When he raises his eyes, Taylor says, “I…I can’t do basements. I get claustrophobic.” Even thinking of the basement is enough to make the sweat start to gather at the back of Taylor’s neck.
Liam, like Taylor, seems content to stay put. He restocks the liquors behind the bar and adds items to a growing pencil-and-paper grocery list:olives, blue cheese olives, toothpicks, lemons.
“You know there are apps for this,” Taylor points out. “Instacart? DoorDash?”
“Everything here is good old-fashioned paper.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
This is intriguing; she’s been hoping to come across records of some sort. Something that might show how Vivian—and her mother—is connected to the Knox. She’ll have to find out where such information is stored.
“Did you see the ‘Wall of Shame’ downstairs in the foyer?” Liam asks with a grin. “It’s the Knox’s policy—also pen and paper—to publicly list the members delinquent with dues. Right now, there’s just a Northrup Terrence on there.”
“Everything that can be paper is,” Eduardo interjects. “They don’t want, how do you say it? They don’t want to create a footprint.”
“Digitalfootprint,” Liam adds.
“Oh.” She folds and unfolds a napkin. “So, who does the shopping?”
“Rose, usually,” Liam says. “Today? Probably you.”
“Me? Great,” she says sarcastically.
Eduardo looks sharply at her, and she wishes she could take it back.
“I mean, it’s fine. I’m just curious about what’s going on downstairs.”
“When—or if—they want us to know, they tell us,” Eduardo says rather sternly, and Taylor feels appropriately chastised. He fishes through the backpack perched on one of the barstools and pulls out a red apple and a book,1776by David McCullough. It’s his signal that he’s taking his break.
“So, have y’all worked here a long time?” Taylor asks.
“Ten years this summer,” Liam says. “The Professor”—that’s what he calls Eduardo, on account of all the books he reads—“is ancient, though. How long you been here, Professor?”
“Seventeen years,” Eduardo replies.
“Seventeen years, wow,” says Taylor, but inside she’s crestfallen. That’s a year shy of when her mother would have been here. “You’ve probably…seen a lot.”
“Not that I can tell you, but yes.”
“Oooh, all righty, then,” she says. “Well, y’all know what they say: ‘Never rat on your friends, and always keep your mouth shut.’ ” She gives a short laugh, but no one else laughs. Maybe they don’t get theGoodfellasreference?
“Seventeen years,” she repeats, trying a different approach. She wants to pick their brains while Rose isn’t hovering. “What can you ‘not tell me’…I mean, do people ever get, like,hurthere?”Like Vivian, falling down the stairs?
