she’s thinking of holding at the B and B. Like a mystery weekend. You know.” She paused. “Well, and I just added one of my cousins to the waitstaff. Although her mom won’t be happy.” Oh, brilliant. Like he’d care. “Are you ready for me to take your order?”
His eyes held a glint. “Did you think I wasn’t going to show?”
“No. I doubt you ever back away from whatever you’ve decided is the best course.”
Did that sound as rude to him as it had to her own ears?
His mouth twisted. “Oh, I have my cowardly impulses. ” Then his expression closed and he said, “I’d like the grilled-chicken sandwich and a cup of your soup.”
“Anything to drink?”
“Just coffee.”
“It’ll be right out,” she said, and went back to the kitchen.
Mabel was dishing up soup. Voice dry, she said, “Bridget squealed and said, ‘I can start tonight? Awesome!’”
“She’s young.”
“She’ll do fine,” Mabel said comfortably. “If she’s floundering, I’ll stay late.”
Lucy smiled at her. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
“What’d Mr. Attorney order?”
“Adrian.” Lucy moderated a voice that had come out sharper than she’d intended. “His name is Adrian Rutledge.”
Mabel’s carefully plucked eyebrows rose. “Didn’t mean to be insulting.”
“It sounded insulting.” Lucy sighed. “Forget it. Rhonda and Jen are out there whispering, and that got my back up.”
“They get my back up every time they come in here. Don’t worry.” She nodded toward the front. “Are you getting his order?”
“Yes, and I’m going to take a couple of hours after the rush is over to introduce him to people who knew his mom. He wants to find out what he can about her.”
“Uh-huh.” Mabel’s skepticism was plain, but she grabbed two salads and whisked out of the kitchen before Lucy could demand to know why she was hostile to Adrian.
Lucy did deliver his food, but she didn’t have time to sit with him any more than she had with the hat lady the last time she’d come here. The better business was, the less time Lucy had to do anything but hustle. Between cooking and doing the ordering, she had precious few hours away from the café, and in some of those she kept the books, made deposits and created new recipes.
She liked cooking. She liked experimenting, and chatting with customers, and showing everyone she could succeed. But the responsibility of owning the place and having half a dozen other people’s livelihoods depend on her was so overwhelming, she had no chance to even imagine what else she could do with her life. She hadn’t been on a date in…Lucy had to count back. Four and a half months, and that was playing tennis at the club in Port Angeles and lunch afterward with Owen Marshall. And that hadn’t been what you’d call a success. After watching him throw a temper tantrum when he lost a set to her, she hadn’t hesitated to say no the next time he called.
Lately, no one else was asking, and it didn’t appear likely anyone would in the near future. She knew every single guy in Middleton entirely too well to be interested, and anyway, when would she go out with a guy? Friday and Saturday were the busiest nights of the week at the café. She had to be here.
What’s more, she knew she wasn’t any more than pretty. Lucy wasn’t alone in considering herself to be the plain one in her family. Put her next to her sisters Samantha and Melissa, and she faded into the background. Disconcerting but true. They had regular dates.
Which was undoubtedly why her heart had bounced just because Adrian Rutledge had looked intrigued by her for one brief moment. How often did that happen?
Never?
You’re pathetic, she told herself, before stealing another look out to see how he liked his lunch.
Hard to tell, when a man was chewing then swallowing.
It was two o’clock before she could escape, and then not without guilt. But Shea, her assistant cook, had shown up, and Bridget was to come at four to help set the tables for dinner. Lucy could spare a couple of hours.
Adrian had waited with apparent patience, sipping coffee and reading the weekly Middleton Courier.
“My mother’s accident is in here,” he said, closing the newspaper and folding it when Lucy walked up.
“Well, of course it is. I told you, everyone knows her. And we don’t have that many accidents right here in town.”
The editor had referred to her as “the kind woman known affectionately as ‘the hat lady,’” which Lucy had thought was particularly tactful. She was glad he hadn’t mentioned that the hat lady was homeless. From his write-up, it sounded as if she might have been a respectable senior citizen who was borrowing a Safeway shopping cart to get her groceries home, rather than an indigent whose shopping cart was the next thing to a home. Adrian wouldn’t have to be embarrassed after reading the article in the Courier.
“Where do we start?” he asked.
“The library.” Lucy had already decided. “I know Wendy is working this afternoon. She was really fond of your mother.”
He held open the door for her. “She’s the librarian?”
Lucy nodded, and after suggesting they walk since the library was only three blocks away, she said, “Yes. Wendy’s from Yakima, but she married Glenn Monsey who was working for a builder over there. Our old librarian was ready to retire when Glenn decided to come home to work with his dad, who’s a contractor.”
“I hadn’t noticed any new building.”
Was he bored? Or sneering at her town? Just because she sometimes thought Middleton was dull didn’t mean she’d put up with an outsider saying so. Eyeing him suspiciously, she said, “They do more over in Sequim than here in town, but we have new houses, too. Plus, they do remodeling.”
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