“It was a joke? You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t look so long-suffering. I hate when you do long-suffering. I promise there will always be books and book club meetings and clubbies hanging around. You think I’d want to miss the semi-monthly Rowena-Jocelyn battles?”
That started me giggling. As soon as she was sure I wasn’t angry, Bridgy joined in, and I guess we were too loud, because Ophie stuck her head in the pass-through.
“Shush, right now. New customers came in and we can hear you all over the dining room. Well-mannered ladies—”
“We’re sorry.” I pulled my order pad from my pocket. “I’ll get right to it.”
Bridgy leaned in for a tentative hug. “Are we okay?”
“As Holly would say, we’re slammin’.” And I gave her a quick hug.
I could have used roller skates to serve the lunch crowd. Bridgy put two pitchers of ice water and paper cups on the table outside for the customers sitting in the sunshine waiting to be seated. She came back inside wiping her brow.
“We need an umbrella out there. Or better yet, an awning.”
“Sure. Order some sailcloth. You sew. I’ll hang.” I chuckled, more because we both knew we’d weathered another friendship storm than because my words were amusing.
When the café was down to a few post-meal coffee drinkers, I was feeling like a used floor mop and looking for an excuse to rest for a minute, when Ophie came out of the kitchen, holding Chicken Sunday in her freshly washed hands.
“I don’t understand how you could name Wednesday’s special Chicken Sunday.”
“We’ll call the salad ‘Chicken Sunday on Wednesday.’ We write the specials on the chalkboard, and for this one we’ll put two copies of the book on the ledge. When people ask about the specials, we’ll talk about the book, play up the grandma role.”
“Sell salad and books as a package deal?”
“Exactly!” I pretended I’d been planning that all along. “How about we take a dollar off the price of the book when bought with a salad? Think the grandmothers will go for it?”
“Once they taste my chicken salad, all I can say is, you better order more books.” Ophie did that spin on spike heels thing she does and went back to the kitchen.
Keeping an eye on the few remaining customers, I peeled an orange and leaned against the counter eating it section by section as I planned my next move. I was determined to discover whether or not Delia owned an island.
If I called and scheduled a meeting with Tighe Kostos, he’d prepare some elaborate version of “none of your business” and that would be that. My best plan of attack would be to catch him off guard at his hotel. He’d never expect to see me in such an upmarket place as the Tower View, and I’d have a better shot at getting the truth out of him.
I called Bridgy out of the kitchen and confided my plan. She offered to go with me and started biting her lower lip when I told her I wanted to go alone.
“Is this because you’re still mad about the book misunderstanding?”
“No, silly. I think Kostos will feel less threatened if he only has to talk to one person. Remember how defensive he was at Times Square?”
“Oh yeah, he was that. Listen, check the tables and then meet me in the kitchen.”
My plan was in motion. I did another round of “can I get you anything else?” and then ducked into the kitchen. Bridgy came out of the office, holding some black material and a pair of turquoise-studded sandals.