“You live in Morehead City?”
“Yes.”
“I live in Emerald Isle. If you drive me home, I’ll pay for the cab to your house, or back here to Beaufort, if that’s what you prefer. Plus a bonus for your time.”
“What?” She stared at him. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark and his features were becoming clearer.
“Drive me home. I live on the island. I’ll pay for your cab to wherever you want to go.” He leaned forward, his shoulders hunched.
He was thirty-something, maybe forty, she guessed. “Are you joking? You’re a stranger. I don’t see an axe or duct tape, but—” Was she crazy? Sitting here chatting with a strange man in a dark, lonely garden? She sat straighter, pressing her upper arm against her side, feeling the reassuring pressure of the pink mace sprayer tucked into the interior pocket of her vest.
“My name is Ben Bradshaw. I’ve been ill and I overtaxed myself. I couldn’t hurt a kitten. I’ll give you the money for the cab now, if you’d feel more comfortable.” He reached into an inside pocket in his formal jacket. “Here, you can even hold my cell phone.”
She eyed the phone in his hand. “Why don’t you call a cab yourself?”
“Because my car will still be here.”
“Listen, I’ll go inside and let the hostess know you want to leave. Some of the guests are friends of yours, right? They’ll be happy to drive you home.”
“I want to leave quietly. Not have anyone fussing or saying I told you so. Or seeing I had to leave my car behind because I was too weak to drive it.”
Juli looked at the bright round moon, at the couples walking nearby and at the cheap broken shoe in her lap.
Sometimes it was important to know when to call it a day.
She held out her hand for his phone. “My name’s Juli Cooke. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bradshaw. I need to get my backpack and tell my ride I’m leaving.”
“It’s Ben, please. I’ll wait here.” He brushed the back of his hand across his forehead.
“Don’t get any ideas, right? This is just about a ride home. Nothing else.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
Sammy Robards was in the kitchen. She saw him note her entry through the back door and watched anger flash across his face.
He stabbed his finger in her direction. “Is that what you’re paid for? I’ve got guests in there. You’re paid to serve them.”
She held her shoes in one hand and the tray in the other. Without a word, she handed him the tray and kept moving. What was there to say?
Frankie was in the coatroom. He looked startled, caught hiding from work. He was only marginally reliable although people tended to like his gently tousled sandy hair and boyish looks.
“I don’t need a ride home tonight. I’m leaving now. Got another ride.” She knelt and scrounged in the back behind the hanging wraps for her backpack. It wasn’t exactly where she’d left it, but her fingers finally touched the mesh side pocket and she pulled the pack out. When she stood, Frankie was giving her a look, no doubt amazed.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”
He followed her to the door. She glanced back over her shoulder. “I’m going home.”
“How are you getting there?”
“No worries. I’ll see you tomorrow or the next day.”
The tall man who’d stared through her, Luke, the one who’d made her feel invisible, stood in the coatroom doorway. They nearly collided. Guests always wanted something, but if she was walking out on the server job, she certainly wasn’t going to fill in for the coat check person and definitely not for this snobby guy who’d started her whole evening crashing downhill. She swerved around him and kept going, glad to exit the back door for the last time.
Ben was as she’d left him. She sat on the bench to pull her sneakers out of the backpack and shoved the broken shoe and its mate into it, along with her little white server cap.
“Ready?” Ben asked.
She had doubts, but she’d made her decision. “I am.”
When they moved into the light, she saw how truly pale he was. She touched his arm, then pulled her hand back, resisting the impulse to offer support.
“Are you okay?”
“I can manage. I don’t want to draw attention.” He leaned back against a white pillar while the valet brought up the car.
When Ben went to the passenger side door with an unsteady gait, the valet smirked and eyed Juli in her server outfit. Ben didn’t seem to notice and Juli ignored it. A server leaving mid-party with an unsteady guest was bound to give a bad impression. That was life.
Ben asked, “You know the way to Emerald Isle?”