She nodded, as if she found speaking difficult. After several moments, she said, “There are over a hundred branches spread across the Midwest.”
“And you know this because?”
“The time I spent with Laura and Bella. The bank is all over social media with advertisements.”
“Right.”
“Your family owns the bank?” She seemed to have gone a bit pale and clamped her hands together until they grew white.
“My grandfather started it back in the 1960s.”
“Three generations, like with Gallagher Jewels.”
She was silent then, until they arrived at the restaurant. Once again, the driver helped Maisy out of the Lincoln Town Car. Chase took her elbow as he led her into the dining room. He’d requested a private room and was happy to see that the manager was able to accommodate him.
The hostess led them to the table. He didn’t miss the way she cast Chase appreciative looks, which he ignored. Once inside the room, he pulled out Maisy’s chair. He’d asked for specific food items and saw that a special menu had been printed with his suggestions. He’d taken a chance she’d be available and was pleased everything had fallen neatly into place.
Maisy took her time reading over the meal suggestions. “This is amazing,” she commented, and set the paper menu aside.
“Do you see an entrée that suits you?” he asked. Seeing that he knew so little about her, he hadn’t considered that she might be allergic to seafood.
“I did. The entire menu is simply amazing.”
Chase grinned.
“The seafood salad sounds…”
“Amazing,” he suggested, grinning.
“You’re laughing at me.”
He was, and couldn’t resist grinning all the wider. “I am a little.”
He was grateful she didn’t take offense and smiled back. “You might dine on lobster and king crab every day, but I don’t.”
“Understood. By all means, order whatever appeals to you.” Then he added jokingly. “With dressing on the side?” Every woman he’d ever met ordered it that way.
Maisy shook her head and grinned. “No way. I intend to enjoy every bit of the Thousand Island dressing smothering the Dungeness crab. Oh, what a treat. Thank you.”
He enjoyed her appreciation. For his own lunch he chose Hood Canal fried oysters, which were said to be some of the most sought-after oysters on the West Coast. He rarely ate fried foods, but, like Maisy, this day called for something special.
The waiter entered with a bottle of champagne he’d preordered. Bollinger, from France and one of the most beloved champagnes in the world. He doubted Maisy would appreciate it as much as he did. Doubtful she would know the difference.
“A toast,” he said, and raised the flute after the bubbles had dissolved enough for them to taste. “To paying it forward.”
“When are you finally going to tell me what you did? At least give me a hint.”
“I will, I promise.”
“You did something for Laura, didn’t you?”
“I’m not saying.”
Frustrated, Maisy groaned and then smiled, convinced whatever he’d chosen to do involved her friend. And really it was the least he could do after the way he’d threatened Laura.
He raised the champagne flute, and she touched the rim of her glass to his and met his eyes, smiling. He waited until she took the first sip. Her eyes widened. “This is very good.”
Her enjoyment pleased him. He’d underestimated her, andnot for the first time. She knew good champagne when she tasted it.
