The server chews her lip.
“Mom,” says Louisa. “I’m sure she has other tables to get to. Look how busy it is.”
“You wouldn’t know it,” says Kristie. “It’s a small town.”
“I might know it.”
“Altoona.”
“Ah,” says Granny, her eyes darting away. “Altoona’s not so small. I know it.” She drains her glass. “Two more glasses of the Whispering Angel, Kristie.” (Claire notes that Granny forgot to say “please,” which is an unforgivable transgression whenClaireforgets, but nobody says anything to Granny. Oh, the world is unfair! But Whispering Angel sounds lovely. Who wouldn’t want to be told a secret by anangel?)
“Shereallylooks familiar to me,” says Louisa when the server has departed.
By the time the food arrives Matty’s stomach is legitimately grumbling. The farmhouse burger looks delectable—it features an over-easy egg along with bacon and Swiss cheese—and Louisa’s fish tacos, just as good. Abigail and Claire are delighted with the grilled cheese. Only Annie is frowning at her plate.
“I ordered this without mayonnaise,” she says.
“Oh, I’m sorry! That must be my mistake. I’m new. I’m still learning the computer system. Would you like me to bring it back to the kitchen?”
“Yes please,” says Annie. Her lips are pressed together so hard they’ve almost disappeared, and her words are clipped.
Abigail shoots her eyebrows to the sky and glances at Matty.Granny never talks this way to service people,is what Abigail is thinking. Right? Matty agrees silently, reading her glance. If anything, Granny is kinder than she needs to be to grumpy Pauline. And she’s very polite to Barbara, and Danny, who does the yard work. She’s polite to everyone!
“Sorry,” says the server. She scoops up the plate, flustered. “I’ll have them put a rush on this. It won’t be long.”
At the end of the meal, Kristie brings the check and explains that the manager took off Annie’s meal because of the mistake with the mayonnaise.
“You didn’t have to do that,” says Louisa, and at the same time Granny says, “Thank you,” and hands over a credit card. When Kristie returns with the slip for Granny to sign she says, “Thank you, Mrs. Fitzgerald.”
“I don’t like when they do that,” says Granny as she signs the slip.
“Do what?” Louisa asks.
“Say your name like that when they hand the credit card back to you. Like they know you!”
“Oh, Mom.” Louisa rolls her eyes. “Privacy is over, didn’t you know that?” She says she needs to duck into the bathroom before they head home, so it is only the children left for Annie to address when she says, “I should hope that’s not true.”
10.
Kristie
Two of Kristie’s two-tops get sat at the same time. Kristie takes a deep breath: she’s still shaking, off her game. She mixes up the specials with the first table and has to go back and tell them it’s halibut, not swordfish. She delivers the drinks to both tables, the meals to her four-top, and tells Natalie, who’s working the other station on the deck, that she’s going to the bathroom.
She splashes cold water on her face and dries it with a scratchy paper towel. Her hands are shaking and she presses them to her cheeks to make them be still. She considers herself in the mirror.
It’s not such a ridiculous coincidence that the McLean/Fitzgerald clan would eat at Archer’s while Kristie is working. Rockland is lousy with restaurants, sure, but Archer’s has one of the best outdoor seating options, with beautiful views of the harbor, the moored sailboats, the occasional one-hundred-foot-plus yacht.
Louisa, of course, she recognized from Hannaford, from thehouse, from all of the research she’d done before that; Matty she recognized from the photo of the cross-country race. The two little girls she’s never seen—Louisa’s Instagram is private, and Kristie was not bold enough to submit a follower request. But the person Kristie really wanted—needed—to see wasn’t here. Martin Fitzgerald. Why did he not join his family for lunch? Danny has said he is ill, but he hasn’t said what kind of ill, or how serious the illness is.
Does Annie Fitzgerald know who Kristie is? She did press her to say Altoona—but maybe she is the kind of person who always wants to know where a server is from. If she knows who she is she wasn’t exactly happy to see her.
Well, what did Kristie expect? A welcome wagon, a kiss on the forehead, an invitation to Sunday supper?
Suddenly grief for her mother rolls over her in waves and she worries she’ll start crying again. She needs to get out there and serve the halibut. But thinking about the halibut her grief is replaced by a roiling nausea. She turns into one of the stalls and is sick in the toilet. She hears the door to the bathroom open, and then the door to the other stall. The person in the other stall uses the bathroom, then flushes. Kristie steels herself and opens the door of the stall, emerging at the same time as... Louisa. Of course. They head toward the sinks together, as if they are dancers in a choreographed number. Kristie splashes more cold water on her face and reaches for a paper towel.
“Hey, you okay?” Louisa asks.
“Yeah, I just—yeah. Yes. I’m fine, thank you.”
