She flipped her hair at me. “Follow me.”
Once seated, I pulled Laurie’s stroller as close to me as possible, trying not to block the aisle.
What a hassle, dining in a non-kid-friendly place. I read the menu.
Peruvian Marinated Skewers of Beef Heart in a Tangy Aji Panca Sauce, Grilled Adobo Rubbed Pork Loins, Sweet Potato Purée, Pisco Marinated Dried Fruit Chutney, and Traditional Peruvian Cold Potato Torte Layered with Sliced Avocado.
It was worth the hassle.
What would I order? I couldn’t decide. Breastfeeding works up an enormous appetite, so I decided not to decide and ordered both the marinated skewers and the cold potato torte. My mouth watered as I watched the waiter serve a couple seated near me.
The waiter twirled around. He was tall and lean with a dancer’s build.
“My name is José. I’ll be your waiter today.”
José raised an eyebrow at my double order, then asked, “Is someone joining you?”
“No. I’m eating for two.”
José’s face flushed.
Well, I sort of was anyway.
José spun on his heel, but before he could get away, I asked, “Is George Connolly working today?”
José turned back to me, his brow furrowed. “George?” He quickly glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry, I don’t know anybody named George.”
While waiting for my lunch, I mulled over José’s answer. Did George really work here? Why would Michelle lie to me about that? It made no sense. Maybe José was being secretive because George was working “under the table”?
The business lunch crowd started to thin. Everyone was returning to their human filing cabinets, as Jim and I called our offices. Cubicle after cubicle that files you away from each other and the world.
My stomach churned as I thought about my inevitable return to my own office.
Ordering office supplies, doing payroll, and shuffling paper were the absolute last things on earth I wanted to do right now. How could I leave my little apricot? I needed to earn a living, that much was true. We wouldn’t be able to afford our mortgage on Jim’s salary alone. But wasn’t there something I could do while I was with Laurie?
Work from home!
Doing what? There was a gal from my office who hadn’t returned after her maternity leave. Monica. She’d started her own business making and selling children’s jewelry.
Could someone really make a living selling jewelry? I dismissed it from my mind. Monica had always been craftsy, and the baubles she’d brought into the office had everyone raving. I, on the other hand, didn’t have the slightest clue about glue guns and glitter.
José served my lunch, which I wolfed down. The beef dish would have been too spicy for me on its own, but the potato torte and avocado mellowed out the spices.
Would the spices affect Laurie later? I hoped not.
I studied the staff. When he wasn’t waiting on me, José was busy hitting on the hostess. She snubbed him, just like she had me.
Where was the manager? I could ask him about George.
By the time my bill rolled around, I felt satiated and sleepy. I fought the weight of my eyelids and the impulse to run out and check on the parking meter. Instead, I asked José to direct me to the manager.
His face creased with concern. “Was everything all right?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
He seemed unconvinced. “May I tell him your name?”
“Kate Connolly.”
His eyes widened, then his face flushed again. “One minute.”
I watched as he hurried through swinging doors. Why was he so flustered?
I pulled Laurie out of her stroller. Still sleeping? I gently rubbed her face. She twitched her feet. Good. Still breathing.
After several minutes, José reappeared, followed by a disarmingly handsome man. He was about five-foot-ten, with black hair. His eyes were so blue I wondered if he was wearing colored contacts. He was sharply dressed in slacks and a blue button-down shirt, accented by a burgundy tie. The only thing that contradicted his elegant style was a five o’clock shadow. Which, while some consider in fashion, has always struck me as unkempt.
Maybe he had a rough night?
He sauntered over to me and casually rested both hands on the table. “Rich Hanlen. May I help you, Ma’am?”
Ma’am, was it? I sighed. I guess when you have a baby, no one calls you “Miss” anymore.
“Is George Connolly working today?”
He straightened, folding his arms across his chest. “George? I don’t believe—”
“Michelle Avery told me he worked here.”
He scratched the stubble on his chin, then glanced around the restaurant. “Why don’t you come back to my office?”