Margo set the container on the pass. “Morning,” Tyler said from the grill, not looking up.
“Morning.”
“Eggs?”
“Two orders. Both for one person.”
“That’s a lot for one person.”
“He’s hungry.”
Tyler cracked four more eggs into the simmering water. Anna passed by and squeezed Margo’s elbow on her way to a four-top. Joey looked up from a ticket he was marking.
“Morning, Margo. You took him pancakes yesterday.”
“He has to eat, doesn’t he?”
“I’m not arguing.” Joey went back to his ticket. “Just making an observation.”
Stella lifted the camera—people in the room she wanted to look at without looking at. Through the viewfinder, she saw the cream scarf against the dark wood, the coat she hadn’t unbuttoned, the container in her hand.
Margo’s eye moved. Brief—a quarter-second, a half-second at most. Across the dining room. Toward the corner. Toward the booth.
The shutter clicked before she knew she was pressing it. Margo at the pass, profile, the takeout container. The empty booth in soft focus behind her, three tables back, the salt and pepper still in their usual arrangement.
Margo’s eye came back, returned to Tyler. She said something Stella didn’t catch.
Stella let the camera drop.
Tyler plated the orders in two stacked containers. Hollandaise in a small lidded cup on the side. He’d done the muffins on the griddle for an extra minute because he knew Bernie liked them browner than the menu version.
“Tell him I said hi,” Anna said, bringing over a thermos of coffee from the back without being asked. She set it next to the containers. “And tell him to be nice to the nurses.”
“I’ll tell him.” Margo picked up the thermos and tucked it under her arm.
“Bea’s going to come by Monday with her sketchbook.”
“He doesn’t want a sketchbook in the hospital.”
“He’ll like that she’s coming.”
Joey pulled the door open for her with one hand, but then she stopped and turned back, one hand on the doorframe.
“He’s getting out tomorrow,” she said.
Anna at the four-top turned around. Tyler at the grill looked over.
“Tomorrow morning. Nine-something.” Margo shifted the bag to her other hand. “I’m driving him.”
“What about food when he gets home?” Anna asked.
“The Circle has a schedule.”
“Oh?”
Margo buttoned her coat with her free hand. “I have Friday. And Saturday. And Mondays and Tuesdays.”
She headed out into the parking lot and the door swung shut behind her.
