“Is that so?” Sam nodded as if Hank were the Dalai Lama and his words required deep contemplation. He settled back in his chair. “I used to travel quite a bit myself when I was in the Navy. Are you a military man?”
“Uh, no.”
“Hank’s an actor—the one in town causing all the fuss,” Bethany interrupted as if the words tasted like burnt popcorn. She had come up behind him with a golden grilled cheese on a plate in one hand and a steaming bowl of soup in the other. She set them in front of Sam with a sweet smile. “Can I get you anything else?”
“I see you have macarons today. I’ll take two of those, if you don’t mind.”
“Absolutely, I don’t mind. Let me get them for you.” Bethany turned and left without a word to Hank.
Hank couldn’t stop an eye roll. He might as well be wallpaper for all the attention Bethany gave him. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to feel a teensy bit annoyed by her treatment. Even if he weren’t a well-known Hollywood figure, he was still a paying customer. He hadn’t seen many of those since he’d entered her restaurant.
“She don’t much like actors.” Sam mumbled the words around a mouthful of grilled cheese.
“Yeah, why is that?”
Sam raised a brow and wiped his face with a napkin. “Doesn’t trust ’em. Can’t say that I blame her.” He took a sip of his coffee. Hank watched fascinated as Sam’s Adam’s apple moved with each swallow, and then he set down his mug with a clang, almost spilling what was left in the cup. “She got her heart broke by one of them theatrical types. Grab a seat, why don’t ya.”
Hank couldn’t stop himself from pulling out a chair, which screeched against the hardwood floor. One of the legs was shorter than the other. He sat, and the chair lurched to one side with a thump. “Who was it?”
“Huh?” Sam looked up from his plate like he’d forgotten Hank was there.
Hank moved and the chair tilted in the opposite direction with his weight. “The actor who broke her heart. Someone on television?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Sam picked up the bowl and drank from it, making loud slurping sounds.
Hank waited for him to finish. Watching Sam eat was a study in characterization and a lesson in patience. When Sam set the bowl down, he wore a tomato soup mustache, which he dabbed at with his napkin.
“Yeah, she don’t say much about it. Some fast-talking bum from the Big Apple. He took her money and broke her heart, I guess. I don’t ask questions. She’s a sweet lady that deserves better, that’s all I know. She takes care of everyone.” Sam’s face lost its friendly expression. He squinted at Hank. “What did you say your last name was?”
Hank sighed. “I didn’t—it’s Haverill.”
“Oh.” Sam wrinkled his brow and tapped a shaky finger against his lips. “Sounds familiar. How do you spell that?”
As if his ego hadn’t already taken a stomping, Sam was present to finish the job. Hank clung to what was left of his dignity and cleared his throat. “H-A-V-E-R-I-L-L. Haverill.”
Sam cocked his head and nodded. Hank grimaced, waiting for the inevitable.Sam may be old, but unless he lives in a cave...
“Scottish?”
Wow. Sam lives in a cave.Hank was saved from answering by the arrival of Bethany and two large chocolate-cherry macaron cookies, which covered the entire plate she placed in front of Sam.Nice lady indeed.
“Here ya go. I made them this morning.” She turned to Hank. “I upheld my part of the bargain—you’ve been fed. I hope you can now see the quality of the food and how special this place is to everyone.”
“Sure I can.” He suspected Bethany had a lot to do with what made the place special.
“And how devastating it would be to this community if we couldn’t continue to operate?”
“I can imagine.”
“So you’ll continue renting to us?” Bethany turned hopeful gray-green eyes on him.
“Well, I don’t know...why don’t we discuss it overdinner tonight?” He flashed her a smile women tended to find persuasive.
She hesitated, frowning, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. “Sorry, I can’t. The restaurant stays open late.” She motioned behind him. “Your bill’s on the table.”
He looked over to see a yellow piece of paper tucked underneath his empty bowl next to the fifty. Rosie and the girls had vanished, but a few of the other tables were occupied with what looked like regular customers.
“You can pay up front.” No warm smiles. No free meals. She wanted him to leave. She hadn’t bothered to disguise it. He was being dismissed.
