What was he doing here?Sammy looked around the restaurant dining room. Located on the top floor of the hotel, the room was lined with windows. Through the panes, New York showed off, Times Square shining its lights into the room.
When he’d made the reservations last week, he’d anticipated spending a quiet evening with Robin after their grueling day. Maybe even starting a tradition of eating in rooftop restaurants. First Duluth, now New York. He hadn’t imagined spending it alone.
Some hero he’d turned out to be.
His body went hot and cold alternately as he reviewed the afternoon. Yeah, Victor deserved what he’d gotten.
But.
The ruin of the cake and the horror on Robin’s face turned his blood to ice.
How could he have messed that whole thing up?
The maître d’ called his name, and Sammy followed the man to a table next to a window. A romantic table for two complete with candles and a view stared at him. He definitely should have canceled the reservation.
But it turned out that staring at the walls in his hotel room was not an option. He’d tried that for the better part of two hours before his restless energy had chased him out and up to the roof.
The waiter placed a plate of baked trout in front of him. A side of roasted root vegetables lent the dish some color. The smell ignited a growl deep in his stomach.
He picked at the fish, ate a few of the roasted carrots and beets. This plate had nothing on the fish burgers Jack made at the VFW back in Deep Haven.
Pushing aside the remnant of the meal, he dropped some cash on the table to cover the bill. His wallet snagged on something in his pocket. He still had the 3x5 cards. They fell open in front of him and he flipped through. They’d executed Robin’s plan perfectly. His face burned as he remembered the teasing they’d received from the other competitors. He didn’t mind for himself so much, but he ached for Robin. She’d worked so hard for this only to have her dream crumble at her feet.
The wording on the final sheet caught his eye, the rules for the competition. “Each team must present their cake before a panel of three judges.” What if there was a way to redeem this mess? Flicking the card against his finger, he thought it through. Just might work. Now he needed to talk to someone in charge.Please, Lord.
He shrugged into his leather jacket and headed for the door. At the hostess stand, a man and woman were checking in. His breath stilled as he recognized the male judge from the competition. Huh. Sometimes God did answer wild prayers.
“Excuse me,” he said.
“Don’t I know you?” the judge said.
Sammy schooled his face into a look he hoped was contrite. “I’m afraid you probably do. Sammy Johnson. I’m Robin Fox’s assistant.” He held out his hand.
“Right. The guy who took out Victor LaVigne.” The judge chuckled and took Sammy’s hand. “I always did think ole Vic needed to come down a notch or two.”
“I didn’t want to fight…” But never mind, this wasn’t about him.
“I’m glad to meet you, Sammy,” the woman said. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I heard what Victor said to you and your partner. He deserved it.”
“I just wish Robin didn’t have to suffer for my mistake and Victor’s lack of ethics.”
The woman threaded her hand through her husband’s arm. “Yes, such a shame about that ruined cake. It was so beautiful.”
“Tell Robin we wish her the best.” The judge started to move toward their table.
“Wait.” Now or never. Time to put all the cards—er, cake—on the table. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure, go ahead.” The judge pointed to where the maître d’ was waiting for them to take a seat. “But I’m hungry after this long day. Mind if we sit and order?”
Sammy followed them to their place next to a window, noting that his own spot had had a better view. So much for romance.
After the judge had ordered, he gestured for Sammy to continue. “I was looking over the rules,” Sammy said. He put the 3x5 card on the table. “See here where it says ‘Each team must present their cake before a panel of three judges’? Well, it won’t be until tomorrow that we will have a panel of three judges. I wondered if, with our unique situation, we could have a second chance to make our cake.”
“Nope. Not a chance.” The man drank a long swallow of his water.
“C’mon, honey,” the judge’s wife said. “There’s got to be some way to help.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do it.”
