Grant
I’m a couple of minutes late for dinner with my brothers. It’s a regular thing, although not all of us can always attend due to our busy careers. Sebastian is sometimes in Northern Virginia to deal with his jewelry business, and he might not be around this weekend because he had to fly there to deal with some financing issues.
I place my hand on the steakhouse door and notice Noah walking up. Well, it’s more like shuffling like somebody put him in a ball and chain. On each leg.
“What’s going on?” He’s generally more upbeat. Or has his nose glued to his phone.
“Hey.” He sighs, raking his dark hair.
“Somebody steal your camera?” Noah’s a wildlife photographer who’s working on his first novel. He is determined to win the Pulitzer with it—or so he claims, which is why it’s taking him so long to finish. He probably hasn’t even written the opening sentence. But given the amount of time he dedicates to photography, I suspect that that’s his true passion, and he’s just saying he’s working on a book because that’s what a lot of his “cool” colleagues are doing.
“No.” He sighs again. “I just wanted a croissant.”
“And…why is that a problem? You can grab one from anywhere.”
“I don’t want one from anywhere. I want one from Bobbi’s.”
This is weird. Noah loves all carbs equally. “What’s so special about Bobbi’s?”
He looks at me like I’m simple. “Bobbi made it.”
I pat his shoulder, hoping he gets over this weird obsession with the bakery. The food is good, but not worth this kind of angst. “Try again tomorrow. Go early. Before they’re sold out.”
“She dropped the last one.” He has the look of a man who’s just been informed by his doctor that his erectile dysfunction’s permanent and nothing can cure it. “The last croissant. On the floor.” He shakes his head. “Still wanted to eat it.”
“Dude.” I lead him into the steakhouse. “Let’s get you fed.”
The hostess notices us and smiles. “Mr. Lasker. Mr. Lasker.” She smiles at each of us in turn.
I stop at the sight of Aspen and her grandfather Kenny in front of the hostess. It looks like they were talking to her, but she’s decided to ignore them.
Aspen’s in a typically shabby outfit—a black dress made with cheap fabric. It also looks like it came out of a time capsule buried twenty years back. What’s her motivation for wearing that when she’s out with her grandfather?
Kenny isn’t much better. He seems much frailer than I remember, but then, it’s been fourteen years. The man’s shoulders are rounded, and he seems smaller and more delicate. None of the force he exuded back then is evident. His suit doesn’t fit, and he seems to be uncertain of his surroundings.
I look around, but don’t see Kat. Is she here? It’s hard to imagine Kenny without his wife. Whatever you can say about them, nobody could deny they’re in love.
Aspen steps forward to shield her grandfather from my view. But she isn’t big enough to hide him, and it only serves to annoy me. What the hell does she think I’m going to do to her grandfather, and why is he letting her do it? He was so protective of her during our dinner at their place. I haven’t forgotten the way he gave me the third degree.
“What’s going on?” I ask her.
“Nothing,” the hostess says quickly. “Your table—”
“Aspen, what are you doing here?” I ask again.
She bites her lip, her cheeks reddening. “We had a reservation for six fifteen, but the restaurant apparently can’t find it. Or a table.”
“Well, it isn’t easy to accommodate people without a reservation,” the hostess says, addressing me directly. “Obviously, she made a mistake.”
Her attitude is annoying. I’m not familiar with this particular hostess, but from the way Aspen’s face is turning an even brighter red, I know this woman has been obnoxious and snotty. She seems more interested in convincingmethat there’s nothing wrong than figuring out how to make things right for Aspen.
I keep my gaze on the hostess. “Aspen here is my assistant. She made my reservation for tonight. Which youdohave, correct?”
“Yes, of course. We—”
“Yes, of course you do. And I’m quite certain she didn’t screw up herownreservation. So you’re going to give her and her grandfather an apology, and a good one, and then give them the best table in the house. If that’s too much for you to handle, perhaps you should look for another job that you’re better qualified for.”
Her jaw slackens. “You can’t talk to me like that!”
