She drooped, and to her horror, her chin quivered.Don’t cry!“What am I supposed to do?”
He peered closely at her. “Are you hungover?”
She looked at the floor.
“We are not going to discuss this during business hours,” he said tightly.
“Then can I buy you lunch? Today?”
She could swear she heard Miss Sloane’s big clock ticking behind her while he considered her invitation. At last he nodded decisively, then he dropped his gaze to his work and waved her off with one hand.
It was impossible to concentrate on her work. Mostly she shuffled papers around on her desk, trying to look busy. At noon, he reached for his coat. She watched him grab hers as well, and he carried it to her desk.
“Where do you want to go?”
“I know a place. Can you drive us?”
He nodded. “If it’s not too far.”
“Sweet little Mexican joint called ‘The Peasants Larder.’ Carlton Street, one block west of Parliament.”
“Near the CBC building,” he muttered. “I’ve driven past it.”
She sat quietly in his car as he drove, unsure if he wanted her to talk or not.
“Here it is. Just park right there.”
“Why this place?” he asked as they got out.
“A friend of mine suggested it, and I’ve been meaning to try it. The owners used to live in New York, and they designed this place after a restaurant there called ‘Serendipity Three.’ She told me it’s very eclectic.”
“And the food?”
“Her words to me were ‘I hope you like it spicy.’?”
The decor was adorable. Walnut-stained barn board covered the walls, and no two chairs were the same. Everything was mismatched, as if it had all been picked up at antique sales. The tables looked hand built.
Sassy loved it immediately. The place was half full, and everyone was talking and laughing loudly. A harried-looking waitress arrived right away to take their orders, and Sassy asked about the piano across the room.
“You should’ve come last night,” she said. “Oscar Peterson was here. Oh yeah. This place is always jumping with big names. You’ve heard of Anne Murray? The Canadian Brass?” She bit her pencil. “A couple of weeks ago we had that guy… a skater. He won the Canadian Junior Championships. What’s his name? Gosh. I—Toller something. Cranston? Anyway, the owner’s deal is that if you entertain, you get your meal free.”
Tom looked at Sassy. “Is that how you’re going to pay our bill?”
“I can’t. It’s a short lunch and my boss would kill me if I was late getting back.” She smiled up at the waitress. “But I will definitely keep that in mind for next time.”
She left, and Sassy braced herself. “So. First, I’m really sorry. Second, thank you for your donation. Third, I’m an idiot.”
“Not usually,” he replied, but she saw it in his eyes. She’d hurt him.
“Well, I was last night. I was overwhelmed, I guess. The concert and all that emotion, the money being stolen…” She exhaled, her shoulders dropping. “It’s not just that. It’s everything. I feel so stupid these days. I miss Marion and I miss my dad, and I have no idea where Joey is. I can’t think straight. I feel so alone sometimes, but I’m supposed to be a grown-up. I’m so embarrassed. Forgive me? Please?”
He tilted his head, considering. “No more temper tantrums?”
“I can’t promise. I’m a Libra.” She paused. “Tom, I know this has been hard for you, too. I barely gave it a thought because I’m so naturally selfish—” She hesitated, hoping he’d correct her, but he didn’t. “But the truth is, I know my dad was important to you.”
“He was. He was more like a dad to me than my own.”
She hadn’t realized that. “I’m so sorry.”
